The sermon for this week is “Forgiveness – What’s the Deal?”  Forgiveness has been on my mind lately, and in the paper; and seems to me, it’s a tough nut to crack. As a race, we’re not that good at it, have few role models for it, and do not seem to be able to practice it, as much as we think it’s good for us, and others.  We’re pretty bad on both ends, both the forgiving of those who have hurt us, and the ability to ask forgiveness from those we have hurt. Culturally, it’s not much modeled or celebrated.

The Catholic Church, probably the world’s largest promoter and distributer of forgiveness, has been on the other end of the table lately – in relation to the large scale sexual abuse by priests, and the Church’s ineffective measures to stop it. The latest gesture was a church service in Dublin, officiated by Bishop O’Malley from Boston, and an Irish priest, to which victims were invited. The priests confessed verbally to the church’s failings, prostrated themselves on the floor, and then washed the feet of a number of the victims.  Symbolically, it was powerful stuff, and appreciated by many church members, while others felt it was theater, only meaningful if accompanied by punishment for the offending priests and compensation of some kind for the victims.

We don’t have too many good ways to say “Sorry.” The basic apology is often no more than a grudging “I know you didn’t like what I did, but it’s done now. Let’s move on.” The confession of sins in the church is dark and private, and more beneficial to the sinner than the sinned against. Sorry is for losers. We don’t like that kind of humbling experience, showing weakness. Our sense of denial is strong that we have done wrong, intentionally or not; it’s hard for us to like someone we’ve hurt. And, on the other hand, we hold on to grudges, even if they weigh us down long after the offense has occurred.

We have no physical gesture to convey our acknowledgement that we have hurt another.  In church, we may strike our breast, “Mea culpa, mea culpa,” but that’s ritual, not personal. I was surprised to hear from an Indian acquaintance that after hurting his friend, he begged forgiveness by kneeling on the ground and touching his forehead to his friend’s feet.  Raymond Carver’s short story, “Intimacy,” took my breath away when I first read it. The narrator tells of a visit to an ex-wife, whom he left on bad terms. Now that his life is better, he goes back to see her. But words fail him, and he finds himself on his knees holding on to the hem of her skirt or shirt, something. Can’t say I’ve seen that in real life; we don’t do that lowering business. Begging is definitely not cool.

I have suggested to two people dear to me that they join a forgiveness support group — it’s awful hard for them, and has cost them peace and happiness. They both come from cultural backgrounds where crossing certain lines is like death – they stop talking or dealing with the offender forever, i.e., the offense is unforgiveable. My friend S knows this, and she has said “it’s like holding a hot potato” – more harming to her than the offender. Still, it’s hard for her. The other is not convinced that forgiveness is always a good thing. Slowly but surely, his list of people and places (of business) not to deal with has grown larger, limiting him and his family in certain ways.  He claims that if everyone acted similarly, the world would have to shape up, and not allow the rude and nasty to survive.  I claim they don’t see themselves that way, and are not likely to change.

I think I’m a pretty good forgiver.  My sister says, “You let everyone off the hook.” Not exactly true.  If so, it’s because I’ve been in circumstances where I’ve done things I’m not proud of.  I didn’t intend to; I wish I had done otherwise. When circumstances improved, I was more my better self. In order to forgive myself those actions, by logic I had to learn to forgive others. It also helps to have a good relationship with nature, which is not judgmental. And also to read, a way of looking into other people’s lives and motivations. Yet, entertainment-wise, I have to agree that a good revenge story beats out forgiveness every time. We do admire Jesus for his ability to forgive the thieves, the Pharisees, the Roman persecutors, us; but then, he is God, holding all the cards – what real harm could they do? We humans have a lot more to look out for.