Each year, at the time of new year, we dedicate a service to forgiveness. Many cultures and religious traditions end the old year and begin the new with some kind of forgiveness rituals. In Ecuador many families make a scarecrow out of straw and pin a list of the misdeeds of everyone in the family on it. At midnight this list, or will as it is called, is read aloud and then the scarecrow and the will are set aflame. As they burn, so, it is believed, do the family’s faults so that everyone begins the new year fresh and free. It’ s an ancient human custom. The Maya of Yucatan made an image of the demon who brought the evils which might threaten them in the new year and carried it out of the village. In Estonia when a rumor emerged that the Evil One was seen about town, the villagers would grab sticks and scythes and give the Evil One chase, usually in the form of a cat or a wolf. Jewish people think about the misdeeds of the past months during the New Year time from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur. Some empty the lint or crumbs from their pockets into running water as a means of washing away the sins of the year. In Vietnam people believe that their kitchen gods, the protectors of the family, go to heaven at the New Year and report on the family’s activities. So before Tet begins, families give lots of presents to their gods so that they will be favorably represented. New Year is a good time to think about forgiveness. What does it mean to forgive? Is it what those old adages say: forgive and forget; let bygones be bygones; don't hold a grudge; turn the other cheek; to err is human, to forgive divine? No, no, no, no and no. To forgive does not mean to forget; some wrongs must never be forgotten. Nor does it mean letting bygones be bygones. When harm is done, whether intentionally or not, relationships change and those changes need acknowledgment if the relationship is to survive. Nor is forgiveness the exclusive provenance of the divine, if you have a belief in the divine. Forgiveness belongs to humans as well; it is a human process. It is a process which involves understanding life backwards, and living it forward. And more.
Robert Terry Weston, The Snow Drifts Down
Across the hill and dell, valley and upland, Smooth as a blanket across the world, Softly falling, falling. Quietly, gently as a mother’s kiss On the face of her sleeping child, The snow drifts down, touches, settles Lies on trees and shrub, on field and woodland, Like a soft mantle, Making all things new. So be my heart this day: The pain of things done and injuries unmended, The fears of things unseen and long dreaded, The ache of failures and mistakes of time past, The sudden angry passion and the bitter regret, And strength ebbing away with the inexorable beat of time, . . . “Behold, I make all things new!”
Understanding backwards, living forwards in such a way that all things become new. Forgiveness. For me, understanding life backwards has three parts; assessing the situations of my life, assessing what my mind does with them and feeling the feelings they bring up for me. Assessing the situations of my life means looking back, whether to yesterday or to ten years ago yesterday, with as much compassion and honesty as I can muster. Not fooling myself, but not beating myself up either. Keeping awareness of my own responsibility for what happened, as well as other people’s in an effort to counter that human tendency to minimize our own missteps and maximize those of others. Another way to say is to look back and own my power to effect what happens in my life. Assessing what my mind does with the memories involves observing the meanings I give to things, the interpretations that influence my understandings and responses. You didn’t say hello to me when I walked in today so you must not like me. The reality may be that you didn’t smile, but I’m the one who added the meaning. I’m the one who decided you didn’t like me. My interpretation may or may not be correct and if I take that ball and run with it, I may be running away from my own end zone. As the bumper sticker advises, don’t believe everything you think. Our minds will make meaning on sometimes scanty evidence and it helps to ask ourselves “Are you sure?” before we conclude that our understandings are the correct ones.
Don’t believe everything you think but do believe everything you feel. At the same time recognize that feelings, like the interpretations of our minds, may or may not be correct reads of reality. You didn’t smile when I came in. I decided it meant you didn’t like me. I felt hurt and angry. My feelings are mine and they are real, they just may not be correct indicators of your reality. Can you see that distinction? I may feel hurt and angry that you don’t like me, but actually I really don’t know, from your lack of smiling, how you feel about me.
Nevertheless I will feel my feelings. I may not act on them, but I will allow myself awareness of their existence. For clarity about the past we need to pay attention to our feelings the way we pay attention when our child cries and we try to uncover the source of the tears. So with our feelings. Recognizing and naming them allows us to look at where they might come from and gain some understanding. Feeling them helps them to move. Our feelings might be strong and we might fear where they will lead us, fear they will cause us to lose control. But feelings exist like the tides of the ocean, they ebb and flow. The energy of both our joys and our sorrows comes and goes. We will bend, perhaps, with their force, but we will not break. Our feelings are part of us, but they do not completely define us. Buddhists tell a story of two people, teacher and student, walking across a wide lawn to enter a large house, when the big, loud, vicious dog of the house breaks loose from its chain and runs full speed toward the visitors. The student stands terrified, clueless about what to do. The teacher begins barking furiously and running toward the dog. The dog looks at the teacher, turns and trots away. So with feelings when we move to meet them rather than stand paralyzed by them. Understanding backwards, living forwards in a way that all things become new. Remembering, feeling, aware of the activity of my mind. Once upon a time I met someone and I hoped for great things in the relationship. Is this sounding familiar? I bet I’m not the only one here to have such an experience. Anyway, it was a beautiful gift that seemed to slowly grow. Then, literally, from one week to the next, the person wasn’t there anymore. I don’t know what, if anything, I did to contribute to such a turnabout and when I asked I did not receive an answer. I don’t understand, even now. I resist putting a meaning onto this, although I have a theory. The fact remains, though, that I don’ t know and I may never know. I only know that I was left with feelings of sadness, disappointment, betrayal of sorts, fear, anger. Dealing with them was a kind of grieving process, as often occurs when damage is done, through which I moved with the ebb and flow, toward acceptance of a reality different than I had hoped for. I lived in a present different than I had expected. Different, but not without its joy. I became free to live in the present and move forward into the newness of my future. I call that forgiveness. Not stuck, despite damages.
I recently interviewed a priest, Petero Sabune, a chaplain at Sing Sing, who went to Rwanda to visit the prisons there. You may remember that in 1994 a civil war took place between two tribes and extremist Hutus massacred as many as one million Tutsis in a hundred day period. The government of Rwanda has established gacaca (ga-cha-cha) courts whose emphasis is on reconciliation. Nine judges sit and hear accusations and listen to people tell their stories. Everyone is asked to tell the truth and to take responsibility for what they did. In Rwanda there are reconciliation villages, in which Hutus and Tutsis live together, victims and those who victimized them, live together. Their children play together. Can you wrap your mind around that? I asked Father Sabune how such an attempt at restorative forgiveness could even begin to take place. He answered that forgiveness is a practice that is practiced every day, some days more effectively than others. You understand life backwards. You accept that you cannot change the past. You make an intention, and set up safeguards if necessary, not to repeat the past but to live forward into the present with peace. And then you renew that intention every day. Father Sabune said that just as people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love. I don’t know if love or hate is something we necessarily learn as much as something we act upon. We carry the seeds of both inside us. Which seeds do we water with our words, our thoughts, our actions, our companions, our consumption? Love or hate? Which plants do we fertilize? I believe, as in the story of Joseph and his brothers which I just read, that the human impulse to love, to connect with others, is stronger than the impulse to separate through hate. Thus forgiveness is possible, even in cases of great harm. But forgiveness doesn’t come easily and it shouldn’t come easily. It can never be rushed and it should never be rushed. There is no time table–we forgive when and if we can. Only when and if we can. Forgiveness is not a moral virtue and when harm is done it can do more harm to think that we must move toward forgiveness because it is the right thing to do, or the religious imperative. I’m not telling you that you have to forgive today or even that forgiveness is necessary. Forgiveness cannot be coerced. We move toward forgiveness because it gives us a way to heal, to repair, to recover when damaged, a way for us to understand life backwards and live it forwards. But it moves in its own way, and with its own timing.
Will you sit with me in a guided meditation? Get comfortable in your chairs . . . feet flat on the floor . . . hands resting in your lap. Breathe in and out, in and out. . . . Slowly, comfortably, in and out. . . . Now imagine that you are walking in a quiet place . . . maybe the woods, . . . maybe the beach, . . . wherever you want. . . . As you walk you notice in front of you an old photograph. You bend down to pick it up. . . Look at it. . . . You see an episode from your own life in it. A time of anger, or misunderstanding, or pain. . . . What is the scene? Who is in it? . . . What do you remember? . . . Are you being fully honest with yourself here? . . . How do you understand what happens in the photo? How do you understand the words and actions of the other people in the photo? How do you understand your own? . . . What meaning do you give them? . . . How does your take on this situation make you feel? . . . Are you sure your understanding is correct? . . . Do you feel a little stuck in that photograph? . . . What would you like to have happen now? . . . What needs to happen for you to get unstuck, free of that situation? . . . . Is there anything you’d like to say or do? . . . . Did I mention that you have magical powers? If you pass your hand over the photograph it will change. The scene will change and become the way you want it to be. Want to try it? . . . . Pass your hand over the photo. . . . What do you see? . . . Now if you choose, and only if you choose, will you say these words, written by the Reverend Rob Eller-Isaacs, responsively with me? We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. Keep your eyes closed, and whisper them if you want. Here we go. “For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time that we have struck out in anger without just cause, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For the selfishness which sets us apart and alone, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For losing sight of our unity, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love. For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of separateness, We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.”
Up here on the table is bowl of rocks and a bowl of water. If you will, please come up and take a rock, letting it represent whatever weighs you down in your past. Place it in the bowl of water as a gesture of releasing yourself to live forward, in the present. A gesture of forgiveness. The water will wash away whatever is heavy on the rock.
Play Pavarotti
Forgiveness is the glue of the universe.
Forgiveness is the might of the mighty.
Forgiveness is the quiet of the mind. (Mohandas Gandhi)
May it be so.
Song #348 Guide My Feet