Rev. Susan Maginn
Wy'east Unitarian Universalist Congregation
October 7, 2007
Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime;
Therefore we are saved by hope...
Nothing we do, however good, can be accomplished alone;
Therefore we are saved by love.
No good act is quite as good from the standpoint of our friend or enemy as from our own;
Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness.
--Reinhold Neibuhr (adapted)
What if Nobody Forgave?
From What If Nobody Forgave? And Other Stories Edited by Colleen M. McDonald, 2nd Edition; UUA,
Skinner House Books, 2003
A wise old man who knew a great deal about people because he traveled from place to place arrived at a strange village. In this town all the people were carrying what seemed to be great bundles on their backs. They couldn't look around very well, and they never looked up because of the heavy burdens they carried.
Puzzled, the wise old man finally stopped a young fellow. "My good man, I am a stranger to your land and am fascinated by these large bundles you all carry about but never seem to put down. What is their purpose?"
"Oh, these," answered the young fellow in a matter-of-fact way. "These are our grudges."
"My," Said the wise old man, "that's a lot of grudges to collect at your age!"
"Oh, they're not all mine. Most of them were passed down in my family. " The young fellow heaved a weary sigh. "See that man over there? I have quite a lot of grudges against his family. His great, great grandfather called mine a horse thief when they both wanted to be elected mayor."
The wise man looked around and shook his head sadly. "You all look so unhappy. Ist here no way to get rid of these burdens?"
"We've forgotten how," said the young fellow, shifting his load a little. "You see, at first we were proud of our grudges. Tourists came from miles around. But after a few years, Grudgeville became a dreary place. Nobody came. And we had forgotten how to stop holding our grudges."
"If you really want to get rid of these grudges, " said the wise old man, "I think I know five magic words that will do the trick."
"You do?" asked the fellow hopefully. "That would be a miracle. I'll go and have the mayor call the people of Grudgeville together." And off he went, as fast as his grudges would let him.
The mayor lost no time calling the people to the village square. The mayor and the wise old many stood on a platform where they could see all the hunched-over villagers.
When the people had quieted down, the mayor said, "Good people pf Grudgeville, a wonderful thing as happened! A very wise stranger has come into our town. He says he can tell us the magic words that will rid us of these grudges we have carried for generations. How many of you would like to be able to straighten up, have your grudges disappear, look at the world in a whole new way? Listen to the wise words of our visitor, then, and do as he tells you."
"My friends, these are simple words, yet some people find them hard to say," said the wise stranger. "I think you have the courage to speak them. The trick is that you must say them to each other and truly mean them. The first two words are "I'm sorry." Can you say them? The other three of "I forgive you." Can you say that? Now say these words to each other.
There was a long pause, then a low grumble from the townspeople. First one person and then another, said the words. Soon they were all saying them to each other- quietly at first and then louder. And then - would you believe it? Just like the wise man predicted, the grudges disappeared! What joy there was in the town. People were heard saying "Look how these trees have grown!" and "Is that you, Jim? How good to see your face!"
There was dancing in the streets that day, and it wasn't long before the mayor changed the name of the town to Joytown.
By Rev. Rob Eller-Isaacs
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 kept us from staying open to others:
"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 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 being less than our spirits call us to be:
"We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love."
For those and for so many acts which have made us think that we are separate and
disconnected from the rest of the world:
"We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love."
Adapted from worship materials of Temple Israel, Stockton, CA
Quiet moments of reflection open my soul.
Blessed with another week of life, I give thanks to the source of life.
For all the good I have known during these days that have passed, I am very grateful.
I know that I have not always responded with my best effort, but often I did earnestly try.
I have tried to give my family and friends love and devotion, and I hope that I grow more
loving as the years pass.
Even as I regret my weaknesses, I rejoice in my accomplishments. Let these
achievements lead to many others.
May I be blessed each week with the sense of having grown in goodness and compassion.
We are all taught that forgiveness is a good and even virtuous thing to do. Just like in our story with the children today, we can easily see how damaging it is to harbor resentments and carry a lifetime of grudges around with us. It is like drinking poison and hoping someone else dies.
We all want the liberation that offering and receiving forgiveness promises. And very often forgiveness is simply a matter of acknowledging that we have hurt someone and we need to apologize and ask for forgiveness. When someone is brave enough to apologize, it is a turning point to developing trust and love within a relationship. It can be a glorious experience of freedom, of seeing the world in a way never imagined possible.
But very often the real road toward forgiveness is not so clear. I find that forgiveness is rarely as simple as it is often taught to be. Life is not a fairy tale. Life is messy. So today I want to talk about the messy side of forgiveness by talking three struggles to find forgiveness. I'll tell you the story of a man named Jesse, we'll talk about the Amish community and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
There was a man who I will call Jesse who grew up in the foster care system after his mother died when he was 7. Most of the homes where Jesse was placed were fine, but there was one home that was abusive. Jesse was physically abused by the foster father and by an older foster brother. Years later, Jesse is in his 30s and he wants to let go of the anger he has, but he does not know how to forgive. Jesse has gone through many years of his childhood and young adulthood floating under a numbing pain in silence, not wanting to talk about the loss of his mother or the chaotic life of foster care or the physical abuse. He is just starting to feel this pain and this loss and does not know where to turn.
It is just in recent years that Jesse has begun to yearn to break the silence and give voice to his childhood experiences. He has begun to remember what happened in his life and to name the injustice of it. Jesse's memories are what some have called "dangerous memories." His memories say something not just about the details of his own narrative, but about systems of power. His memories say something about the system of power of his birth family when they did not or could not keep him in the family after his mother died. His memories say something about systems of power in our culture that do not cherish the value and vulnerability of children. His memories say something about systems of power in the foster care system that could place a child in an unsafe home. (F. Keshgegian, Redeeming Memories)
As a displaced child, Jesse became one of the many marginalized in our culture. Marginalized people are seen as useless and not contributing to society. The marginalized are people with mental and physical disabilities, people just getting out of prison, people who are very young or very old, people who are not white or people do not speak English. Often people who are marginalized begin to internalize this sense of worthlessness and begin to live as if their life has no meaning or value. As Jesse begins to claim his memory as a form of violation and oppression, then his memory itself can become an act of resistance to his experience of marginalization. Jesse is one of the lucky ones in that he is not willing to disappear into the margins. (Ada Maria Isazi-Diaz)
Where does forgiveness begin for Jesse? Does he forgive the foster care system? Or his mother? Jesse cannot talk to his dead mother and who would he call if he wanted to forgive the foster care system? Or does he need to forgive the abusive foster family? Jesse understandably does not want to contact the foster family and they have never asked for his forgiveness. So can Jesse forgive them if he never talks to them?
Some say that we can know true forgiveness even if we do it alone, even when there is no repentance, even when there is no justice. But if no one is asking for your forgiveness, if no one is repentant for the injustice, can you really forgive in solitude?
October 2nd was the anniversary of when a man entered an Amish schoolhouse killing and injuring many children before killing himself. Soon afterward, members of the Amish community visited the widow of the gunman as a way of forgiving. At that time, I was concerned that the Amish community was forgiving as a way to avoid feeling the pain of the children's death. But then I saw that this community has been about the business of forgiveness for 300-400 years, that forgiveness is central to their community life and always has been.
The Amish people see a distinction between forgiveness and reconciliation. For the Amish, reconciliation is something that can only be done when both the violator and the violated are able to talk through what happened. They know that with the death of the man who killed the children, they will never have reconciliation. However, forgiveness is something that can be done regardless of whether the violator is dead or even if the violator does not believe that s/he has done anything wrong.
Forgiveness is often portrayed as a singular experience and I have found, and I think the Amish community would agree, that forgiveness is a long process and the deeper the hurt then longer and messier the process is. Forgiveness is far more cyclical than it is linear. The Amish community did not complete the forgiveness process on that day when they met with the widow of the man who killed their children. That was only the beginning. As long as they miss their children, they will be forgiving. This community will likely be forgiving for the rest of their lives.
Many of you may have heard of the Truth and Reconciliation commission that is led by Bishop Desmond Tutu in South Africa. In the wake of Apartheid, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission has made it possible for perpetrators of horrific crimes to come forward and confess what they did under the Apartheid system. Their confession is not heard by a judicial system. It is heard by the people who were victimized by the crime.
I saw a video recording of one such encounter where a black man was confessing to the murder of 5 black protesters while he was employed by the whites. The man was confessing before 5 women. These women were the mothers of the dead protesters. The man explained what happened that day and then said that he was there to ask for forgiveness from the women, but not expecting it. The women asked him a series of questions about how the events of the day unraveled. One woman finally said, "You killed your own people for money. I have no forgiveness for you." Another woman said, "I forgive you. Ultimately your judgment is not up to me, it is up to God. I want to let go of this and so you are forgiven by me."
As I watched this exchange, I thought, "This is about as clear as forgiveness can get. The violator and the violated are sitting at the table of reconciliation." But I wondered if the true peace and liberation of forgiveness was available to the man or to any of the women as a result of this meeting. I wondered if the man felt forgiven when he left or if he still felt just as haunted as his eyes looked. I wondered if the women felt better by just hearing this confession or if it was worse to hear such a story and then watch the murderer of their sons walk away a free man. You see, punishment for the confessed crimes is not a part of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The mission is to hear the truth of what happened in the form of a confession. I am generally critical of punitive justice as a source of true healing, but I wonder if true reconciliation and true forgiveness is possible - for both the violator and the violated - if there are no consequences for the confessed violations.
But I can also see that what is happening under the leadership of Bishop Tutu is a miraculous first step. That the commission is looking at this work from the perspective of how these people will live among each other for generations to come and that the work of revealing what happened is a first step to a future of lasting peace in South Africa. The work in South Africa is proving to be a model for Liberia and possibly even for Native Americans in this country.
None of us can create the world as we would have it be. We cannot make people see justice in the same way that we do. We cannot make people repentant. We cannot make the peace of forgiveness manifest for ourselves or for anyone else. When there is so much that we cannot change, we can easily feel powerless and even hopeless.
For Jesse, there is much to accept about those things he cannot change. Accepting the tragedy that there is no one asking for his forgiveness, no matter how deserving he is. This acceptance is difficult but it is so important. (Joretta Marshall) Acceptance allows Jesse to be with what has happened in his life, to make room in his soul for the experience. Most of us do not like to sit with pain - whether it is our own pain or someone else's. But it is only through being with our own pain that we can truly come out on the other side - capable of finding true joy and love, true faith and peace. And if and when we do come to the time of letting go our the pain, we will do so being at peace with what happened, not simply forgiving as a way to deny the pain.
It is easy for those who have been so hurt to run away from the pain of the past - to numb the pain with addictions or cover the pain with vengeance. There is no neat and tidy ending for the story of Jesse's forgiveness. Chances are Jesse's forgiveness will be far more cyclical than linear. He will have phases in life where he is at peace with what happened, others where he is overcome with the loss. He will have phases in his life where he will be able to teach others about child abuse and others where he is unsure about to share what he has been through.
When I hear stories like Jesse's I can't help but wonder: Where was God when Jesse was being beaten? My own beliefs lead me to wonder if God was there all along. God was far from the hand that hurt Jesse's young body, but maybe God was there that night when the beating came but Jesse felt himself float above his body. Maybe God was there when Jesse was able to find a hiding place. Maybe God was close to the cat that snuggled up to him, licked his hand and purred him to sleep. Maybe God was close to the person who finally moved Jesse out of that foster home.
I imagine that God is not all-powerful. I don't believe that God is in control of events as they unfold - not for Jesse, not in South Africa, not in the United States. Not even God can make our world into God's image. Perhaps God also has to do the difficult work of acceptance.
God may not be all-powerful, but I do imagine God as being all-present and in times of devastation, this presence takes form in those mysterious and often far too brief moments of relief. I imagine God as being that which brings us, however slowly and indirectly, from brokenness toward wholeness, from pain toward peace.
Bad things happen to good people and we are often left behind, wondering how to make sense of it all. May this congregation always be a place where we can bring our questions and hopes for "This Old World", Hymn #315
This old world is full of sorrow, full of sickness, weak and sore;
If you love your neighbor truly, love will come to you the more.
We're all children of one family, we're all brother, sisters, too;
If you cherish one another, love and friendship come to you.
This old world can be a garden, full fragrance, full of grace;
If we love our neighbors truly, we must meet them face to face.
It is said now, "Love they neighbor," and know well it is true;
This the sum of human labor, true for me as well as you.