photo by Lara Herscovitch at Hammonasset Beach State Park
One thing we know will happen within a community: there is going to be conflict. I don’t care how altruistic our reasons for gathering; when we get people together, sooner or later someone’s going to fight. Even in non-profit and justice kinda work. Maybe especially in non-profit and justice kinda work.
I’m part of the Christian Church. We like to think we’re all-loving and sacred and spiritual… holy and righteous… the blessed Children of God. We create wonderfully written statements of our faith and covenant to love each other. Beautiful statements. Powerful statements. Filled with love and mutual admiration. Sometimes reading them brings me to tears.
And then we come down off that mountain, get back to our proverbial fields, and… We argue. We fuss. We fight. Sometimes we do each other wrong.
Jesus said where two or three are gathered, he’s there too. Know why? Because he knows that eventually we will need him to mediate our fight. One of us will do something that hurts the other and we will fight.
The hurt doesn’t have to be intentional. Most often it isn’t. (Not that being unintentional makes it hurt less.) And it doesn’t mean the person causing the harm is evil. A lot of times they don’t even realize they’re hurting you.
That’s why in Matthew’s gospel — 18:15-35 — Jesus said the first thing you do when you’re hurt is say, “Ouch.” Let them know they’re hurting you. If they don’t stop, bring somebody with you and talk about it in front of that third party. Maybe their presence can help them see how they are hurting you and get them to stop. If that doesn’t change things, gather a group of folks in the community and try to work it out. If that doesn’t work, try something else. And if that doesn’t work, try something else. And if that doesn’t work…
Keep trying. And remember that in a loving community the objective of settling a disagreement is NOT to win, but to maintain and strengthen the relationship.
We need each other if we ever hope to create a world built on love.
Peter asks Jesus just how many times it’s necessary to try to reconcile with someone:
“Hey Jesus… how many times are we supposed to forgive folks in our community when they mess us over? Seven?” Jesus said, “Seven?! Are you kidding me? You’re supposed to forgive folks seventy times… seventy times seven!”
The disciples were like, “Whaaaat?”
I can understand their reaction. Because that’s a lot of forgiving. Peter knew how benevolent Jesus was, but there has to be a limit.
How many times does one have to forgive? Seven? Seventy? Seventy times Seven?
Whether the number is seven or 70 or 490, that’s a lot of forgiving. And does it mean you have to let your brother or sister keep HARMING you 490 times? Seriously, Jesus?! In my world, I’m thinking more like three strikes and you’re out, baby. I don’t know about this. You’re asking a lot!
A bunch of years ago, I went back to spend Christmas in St. Louis with my family. First time I’d been back in many years. I didn’t avoid St. Louis because of my family — I love them, I care about them deeply, I usually have a pretty good time when we’re together. But I always preferred that they come wherever I was to visit me. I didn’t want to go back to St. Louis.
I won’t go into what happened to me growing up in St. Louis. You’ll have to buy the book I keep saying I’m going to write. Or figure out how to eavesdrop on my therapy sessions… if and when I get back into therapy.
Let’s just say… St. Louis is where most of my trauma happened. St. Louis was the scene of the crimes I felt were committed against me. Real harm by people I thought I could trust. And I was angry. I was mad at my family… my church… my so-called friends… my education… the political systems… the economy… the crime… the racism… EVERYTHING. I felt like everything about St. Louis had let me down. Everything about St. Louis held me back. I could not be all that I could be because of the weights placed on me in St. Louis.
I was angry. I was hurting.
I did not want to go back. I knew nothing was going to be any different. Nothing will have changed. They were still the same people. Still in the same places. Still doing the same things. Still thinking the same way. Same stories. Same jokes. Holding the same chains weighing me down.
It enraged me! Nobody wants to be confronted with the things that they see as the cause of their issues. And what made it worse was knowing there was nothing I could do about it. I knew it would do no good. No… I had no desire to EVER go back to that again.
But my folks wanted me there. And I love them and know that they love me. So, I went. Full of dread… I went with a chip on my shoulder — not looking for a fight, but to give me an early warning of an attack. To give me time to raise my defenses and protect myself.
I took the train so I’d have more time and space to meditate. On the train I could get myself ready on the way there (even reading the book The Way of Forgiveness by D. Patrick Miller), and I could decompress on the way back. Because I knew what would happen when I got home. I knew what it was going to be like.
And you know what… I was right. Seemed like nothing in St. Louis had changed. It was exactly like I expected it to be. Everything was just like it was when I left. Older. Dirtier. More vacant lots and abandoned buildings. Some of the streets were different, cosmetic changes. But at its core, it was still the same St. Louis that formed me. The same St. Louis that hurt me.
It felt like everywhere I turned, there was a trigger. It still hurt. I still remembered the original pain. I still felt betrayed. I continued to feel that they owed me.
But this time… I also saw it differently. I felt it differently. I experienced it differently. And the resentments started fading away. The chip on my shoulder got dislodged several times during my visit. And I realized that it wasn’t all that important. And so, it didn’t hurt that much. I could easily brush it off. Something changed.
What changed? ME. I changed.
I didn’t feel like I had changed. I didn’t do it intentionally. I didn’t say, “Okay I’m going to be different from now on.” But I was. On the train ride back, it hit me. Somehow… I forgave. I let go. Released all the hurt. Released all the bad memories. Released all the resentment. Released all the jealousy… the “what might have been ifs”… the regrets… the anger… the hate. All of those things that left scars on me, I let them go.
I didn’t forget. I’m still suffering from the wounds. But I realized that in spite of it, in some ways because of it… I am who I am — and God tells me that I am wonderful. So, in my heart, I forgave, released it, let it go. And once I did, it no longer had power over me.
In The Way of Forgiveness, Miller wrote:
“Forgiveness begins with the willingness to look at any difficult circumstance of your life in a new way. Forgiveness is not about letting anyone off the hook for a mistake, insult, or crime. Nor is it about trying to forget something that bothers you. In fact, forgiveness may first require that you look more deeply at whatever is bothering you, because looking more deeply at something in particular will be the first step into seeing everything differently. And seeing everything differently is the way of forgiveness.”
What I realized is that many of the people involved in my trauma were also victims of trauma. It doesn’t justify their actions. And it didn’t reduce my resentments. But it did make me look at them a bit differently. Alongside my anger was something else. Buried deep within my anguish I found… pity. Empathy. They were hurting too. And that revelation was enough to start me on the path, exploring the way of forgiveness.
All of a sudden, I was starting to feel a little better. I didn’t forget it, and frankly, there are some folks who I’m just not going to put up with anymore. Still got some healing to do about it. But I can still forgive them.
Seventy times seven or 490 may not be enough forgiveness-es to cover it — definitely not if they get one forgiveness for every offense. And 490 might not be enough to cover all the times I need to forgive myself.
But the point isn’t how many times we each forgive. The point is THAT we forgive. And we can forgive because we are confident in the knowledge that God forgives us for the ginormous debts we owe to creation for failing to keep our side of the covenant… for failing to love. We can, and we must forgive.
So, I continue to practice forgiveness. I reflect on my life and find the old wounds. I search with care — some of them aren’t healed yet. Love softens the blow, but when it ain’t ready… I move on and try another spot. I can come back to it later. But for the rest… I forgive. Forgive them. Forgive it. Forgive myself. And once I start forgiving, it gets easier.
I am grateful for my upbringing in St. Louis. Yes, it left me with many scars. But I’m starting to see those scars as a sign that I have lived… that I have loved… and that I survive in that Way of Forgiveness, the pathway of love.
To get in touch with Kevin directly: kewingct@gmail.com