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2009 Jerry Davidoff Sermon Award Honorable Mention

Finding Forgiveness
by Rev. John Gibb Millspaugh

Parish Co-Minister, Winchester Unitarian Society
delivered on October 5th, 2008

Imagine this.

Imagine that every autumn, every year, the people of the world attempt to make their peace with those they had slighted, or injured, or wronged in the past twelve months.

Imagine that the task is not so much to smooth things over, or reach a common agreement or compromise, but the task is to own up to the truth. Imagine if someone came to you and said, “I did this. I did this to you, and it was wrong. I botched this thing. I betrayed you thusly. I demeaned you, dishonored you, whether you even knew it. I’d like to ask something of you that you may or may not be willing to consider. I’d like to ask you to forgive me.”

Imagine if Congress and subprime lenders did this. Imagine if family members who meant well, and friends and acquaintances and people who cut you off on the highway did this. Came to you, admitted they botched it, apologized, asked for forgiveness, meant it. Imagine what life would be like each autumn. Imagine what possibilities would open.

Imagine what would happen, if not only they did it, but if you did it. Victoria Safford asks,

Imagine how many deep breaths you would need to take. Imagine how many doors you’d have to knock on, how many phone calls you’d have to make, how many letters, how many lunches and coffees, how many awkward moments with your children and your parents, and with strangers (that cashier to whom you spoke so sharply). Awkward is irrelevant. The task is not about comfort, it is about truth, about wholeness and holiness. Restoration.

How would the world be different if we all lived life this way? Or, a better question: Regardless of what the world does, how would we be different if we paused once a year to take stock, to apologize, to forgive others and ourselves for ways we have fallen short? For times we have “listened to too much noise,” and been “inattentive to wonder.”

In the Days of Awe, the shofar is blown as a wake up call – the sound piercing through our tendency to hurry over the surface of life. It draws the hearer up short, and down deep. Rabbi Alan Lew writes, “It is the sound of the world once again cracking through the shell of its egg to be born. It sounds an invitation, to a journey from denial to awareness, from self-loathing to self-forgiveness, from anger to healing. From staleness to renewal.

The Days of Awe are unusual among world religious holidays in that they do not celebrate any historical event, or any person, or even a season of the spheres. The Days of Awe celebrate the extraordinary human capacity to grow and change and begin anew.

Of course, that capacity is always with us, not just during the Days of Awe. But Rabbi Lew notes the great symbolism to short duration. For just ten days, the Book of Life and the Book of Death are open. We are already in the sixth day. The book is closing. In the same way, we know, on some deep level, that the books of our lives are closing. We may be in the fourth day of ten, or the seventh, but regardless, the time remaining is precious, not to be squandered. We have work to do.

Perhaps more than we allow ourselves to admit, some of that work involves forgiveness. As a Unitarian Universalist, I readily acknowledge: forgiveness is not something I think much about. And I’m not alone. Rev. Paul Mueller writes,

Somehow, when most of us were not looking, forgiveness sort of slipped out of our spiritual and even perhaps our religious lexicon. Understand, I do not think that we meant to lose it, it just kind of happened. We lost track of it as a religious concept. In a way, we kind of put it up in the attic, with some other words that had, over the years, become sort of stiff. Unbending. [The word forgiveness] seemed sort of the equivalent of wearing starched shirts in an era of permanent press fabrics. We never really thought much about it, but forgiveness seemed to say, somehow, more than we meant about our deeds and the needs they often created in us.

I think I personally do not often think about forgiveness because it’s not an easy fit with my theology. I think most people try the best they can. I don’t think of the world in terms of sinners and their sins, atonement and redemption.

Also, I have left forgiveness aside because I have so often seen the concept abused. I spent a summer working as a chaplain at Mass General Hospital, as part of my training for this ministry. Again and again, on the Internal Medicine ward, I’d meet with battered women. For some of these women, it was their second or third time in the hospital. In almost every case, they were preparing to go back to their abuser. They felt that this part of their responsibility as a loving wife, and as religious people. In their churches, they were hearing language like “Forgive and forget” and “Turn the other cheek.”

In promoting unflinching forgiveness, their churches betrayed them. Those ideas about forgiveness, that forgiveness involves forgetting, and requires reconciling no matter what, helped perpetuate abuse. That model of forgiveness is wrong. Forgiveness often involves reconciling, but not in every case, not absolutely. That model of forgiveness is wrong in that it is incorrect: its understanding of what forgiveness is and what forgiveness involves is incorrect. And that model of forgiveness is wrong in that it is morally wrong: it’s pernicious, it is destructive of life.

Depending of how we think of it, forgiveness can be burdensome or libratory. Let me tell you about forgiveness as I understand it, in hopes we can start a conversation about what it is and isn’t, and what role it might play in our lives as Unitarian Universalists.

Someone once said, “Foolish people…neither forgive…nor forget. Well-meaning but naive people both forgive and forget. The wise… the wise forgive, but do not forget.”

The past has much to teach us. If we are to learn from it, we must not forget it but remember it. Forgiveness more often involves remembering than forgetting. Past experiences, ways that we and others have fallen short, even pain has a great deal to teach us. Part of being fully human is making mistakes and harming other beings, and being harmed as well. Forgiveness is not about forgetting the past and thereby increasing the chance we’ll get caught in the same destructive cycles again and again.

Forgiveness is about remembering the past, but responding to it in a new way. Loosening its clutches on us. Shaking off that which binds us, letting the chains drop to the floor, and feeling what it is like to stretch limbs that were beginning to numb or atrophy. Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting the past, it’s about responding to the past from the context of the present: who I am now, and who I am becoming; who you are now, and who you are in process of becoming. Responding to the past from the context of the present.

I have a friend who got hurt by another friend’s callousness, and in 2003, he severed his relationship with her. Just a few weeks ago, though, he learned that she was dying. The book of life was closing. Suddenly his feelings of resentment and pain seemed less important. They were based in the past, in who he was five years ago, and who she was then, not who either of them were today. He realized he still cared about her. He hesitated to reach out to her, worrying he might add to her burden. But he did reach out, and they spoke for hours, and found healing in doing so. Though he still remembers the pain of the injury, he responded to the past from the context of the present. He has found forgiveness.

In that case, forgives involved reconciliation. I don’t think it always needs to. The two are not the same. Forgiveness is a personal response to another’s injustice—“a healing act, centered in the heart.” Reconciliation is a social occurrence that requires two people respecting each other mutually. As Jewish scholars have noted, sometimes reconciliation is possible, sometime is isn’t - but forgiveness doesn’t depend on the other person’s response, and it is always possible. You can forgive someone who is no longer alive. You can forgive someone who you cannot track down. And you can forgive someone who has demonstrated that attempts at reconciliation aren’t safe, people who have demonstrated that they would use your attempt to reconcile to wound you again. Reconciliation is not always possible or wise. Reconciliation is not always possible or wise. But forgiveness is always possible, and is necessary for our sake and for the sake of our own life’s expansiveness, as Debbie Teal wrote in our modern reading.

So I’ve told you what forgiveness isn’t. It’s not forgetting the past, but responding to it in context of who you are in the present, and who you seek to become. It’s not about excusing or accepting bad behavior. It’s not about reconciliation in all cases. But what is it? As we move into considering what forgiveness actually is, I’d like to invite you to get in touch with a situation or a wound that still has a hold on you from the past, that diminishes you. Just hold it lightly. I am not going to ask you to do any forgiveness today. I just want to move this sermon out of the abstract and into the practical. Just hold something lightly in your mind. It could be about forgiving yourself, or another person, or even the universe.

Perhaps you, like me, could use some forgiveness from yourself. For the times of messing up. Botching it. For listening to too much noise, for urges and tendencies you have given into and regret. What would it be like to forgive yourself? Some of us might choose to focus on that.

Others might choose another person or set of people, a family member or a stranger, a leader or a confidant who betrayed or otherwise hurt you sometime in the past, a past that still has some hold on you. So you might choose to think about forgiving yourself, or another person.

And I imagine some of you might choose something more global and impersonal, something about the structure of things that has led us to loss. The loss of a goal, of a dream, of a loved one. Do you see how forgiveness could relate to the structure of things that lead us to loss? I can share an example, for I have known this kind of loss, and the need for this kind of forgiveness. Seven years ago my goddaughter lost her life on the day of her birth. That day I raged, and I raged, and I raged at the universe, at the God, at life, at everything. I sure I’ve not forgiven the universe yet. Some part of me is still ensnared in the anger and sense of impersonal betrayal; I’m not sure I’ve entered back fully yet into the relationship with life, and potential and new possibility. Perhaps, more than the need to forgive myself, or another person, perhaps I need to forgive the universe. Grandiose and irrational as that may be, perhaps I need to forgive the universe for the loss of my goddaughter.

So that’s what it is for me, the situation I’ll focus on as I consider what forgiveness means. What is it for you? Forgiving yourself, or another person, or the structure of things? I invite you to get in touch with a situation that still has a hold on you from the past, that diminishes you. And this is important: at the same time, I invite you to feel the spiritual strength that gives you the wisdom and courage to move toward your life’s potential, and get in touch with that yearning to forgive yourself, or another person, or the universe. I’ll give you a moment.

* * *

What would it mean to do the difficult spiritual work of forgiveness? What would that look like? What is forgiveness?

* * *

Forgiveness is the miracle by which we turn to the good, in spite of wrongdoing, injustice, or injury. It’s the miracle by which we turn toward life’s perpetual processes of renewal. In so doing, we heal the hurt we never deserved.

When we call forgiveness a miracle, we mean, as “No one could suspect, in the nature of things, in the natural cause and effect of things, that anyone should ever forgive.... When we forgive we come as close as any human being can to the essentially divine act of creation.” That’s why forgiveness is miraculous.

There is no process we can go through that will automatically result in forgiveness. Forgiveness cannot be forced by good intent. But we can prepare ourselves for it, make ourselves open to the opportunity, and therefore make it more likely to come about. We can prepare in four ways. Hold it lightly. You’re here now, responding to the past from the context of the present. Responding in four ways.

First, we can remember. We can recall to ourselves the pain of the injury, the thoughtlessness or neglect. We can recall ourselves to not only the pain, but the full range of emotions, the anger, the fear, the bewilderment. We might remember by entering into those difficult emotional spaces once again, or we might remember through a more rational assessment of what happened, and the consequences unfolded from it.

Remembering and uncovering is a process that can take days or years or decades. Remembering is hard to do on your own, because the pain we carry goes deep. So you might consider talking to a friend or family member, or a clergyperson or counselor. In remembering, we’re more helped by that friend who draws us out and accepts the full range of our response just as it is, than we are by the friend who encourages us to quickly forgive. So first is remembering and uncovering, and that might take hours or years.

Next comes a realization: after a certain amount of time, we realize that continuing to focus on the injury and injurer is only extending the suffering, further constricting possibility. That realization presents the need for a choice. Will I keep dwelling in my anger and suffering and outrage? My justified anger, my understandable suffering, my warranted outrage?

Or…or. Or will I focus more on the potential in front of me. This new day. The context of the present, who I am now, and who I am growing to become?

In facing that decision, I am reminded of the folk lore about the tribal elder telling his grandson about the battle the old man was waging within himself. He said, “My grandson, the battle inside me is between two wolves. One is anger and vengeance and hatred and self-pity and guilt and superiority, and that wolf is very hungry. The other is love and creativity and peace and compassion and serenity and forgiveness and he is very hungry too. They are attacking one another, trying to eat one another, and over time, one is sure to win.” The young man asked the old man which wolf would win, and the elder paused, and then replied, “It depends which one I feed.”

We move toward new life when we start feeding the wolf of vengeance only scraps, and actively nurse the wolf of forgiveness. It’s not that we cease to be angry. It’s that anger ceases to prevail.

Forgiveness is a merciful restraint from dwelling destructively in resentment or righteousness. We come to wish ourselves, or others, or the universe well. In spite of everything, we wish betterment and flourishing, with we thereby move ourselves toward healing. Remembering first. Then making a decision about how we want to live. But that’s not the end of the process. Next comes work. The inner work of forming a new attitude toward the person who injured or neglected us. And work of deciding to not pass the pain onto others. You know that you have found forgiveness if you realize you wish for wellbeing of all, even the wellbeing of those responsible. Hard work. Spiritual practice—like prayer, meditation, or another form of focused intent in the presence of the sacred—can be essential to this work. Spiritual practice can be one of the most powerful forces that help us move toward growth and new life.

Remembering, then deciding, then work. Finally comes deepening. With forgiveness, life feels different. Richer. We discover a renewed sense of purpose, a renewed sense of joy, a renewed sense of strength, even if we had not been aware that they were missing. This might be a time of reconciliation. The International Forgiveness Institute says of this phase, “Thus, the forgiver discovers the paradox of forgiveness: as we give to others the gifts of mercy, generosity, and moral love, [we find that] we ourselves are healed.” Lewis Smedes puts it more bluntly: “You set a prisoner free, but you discover that the real prisoner was yourself.”

These are the Days of Awe. The Book of Life is open for such a short time. What about you? Do you yearn to find forgiveness? What would forgiveness look like for you?

Forgiveness is not about forgetting the past, but responding to the past in the context of the present. It’s not necessarily about reconciling with another, or condoning their action, but about finding compassion for them, and a wish for their wellbeing. It’s a miracle that opens us to the expansiveness of life, but only if we prepare ourselves for its possibility. We prepare ourselves by taking stock, remembering. Owning up to what’s real, what still has a hold on us. Then deciding where to put our energy, which wolf to feed, whether to cling to the harm of the past, or reach out to the promise of the present. Then comes the real work, of compassion, and empathy, and wishing for the wellbeing of all. And finally comes the deepening, a new purpose and strength and joy. The miracle.

Debbie Morris mentioned the book by Lawrence Smedes. He writes, “When we forgive…we create a new beginning out of past pain that never had a right to exist in the first place. We create healing for the future by changing a past that had no possibility in it for anything but sickness and death. When we forgive, we ride the crest of love's cosmic wave; we walk in stride with [the sacred source of all], and we heal the hurt we never deserved.”

May it be so for all of us. In this beloved community, may we make it so. Shalom, Namaste, Salaam, Blessed Be, and Amen.

• • •

Victoria Safford. “At One.” Walking Toward Morning. Skinner House Books: 2003. Written in response to the question of Michael Lerner, “Imagine if the entire society, not just Jews, were to dedicate a ten-day period each year to collective self-examination and communal transformation.”

Safford.

These two phrases from Wendell Berry’s poem, “For the High Holy Days: A Purification.”

Lew, paraphrased.

Rev. R. Paul Mueller, “Sermon for a High Holy Days Remembrance,” 1997.

Didier Pollefeyt, “Forgiveness after the Holocaust,” in David Patterson and John K. Roth, eds., After-Words: Post-Holocaust Struggles with Forgiveness, Reconciliation, Justice, University of Washington Press (February 2004), 55-68, 63.

“If reconciliation is presented as the necessary final point of forgiveness, victims can be blocked in their efforts to forgive. There are cases in which forgiveness should not be followed automatically by reconciliation—for example, after sexual abuse by (former) partners. If we do not separate forgiveness and reconciliation clearly enough…the blurring can be a barrier that prevents the victim’s granting of forgiveness. Even if forgiveness is incomplete without reconciliation, forgiveness has value in itself quite apart from reconciliation. Forgiveness is possible without reconciliation. Reconciliation, however, is not possible without forgiveness.” Ibid.

Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don't Deserve. (HarperOne: 1996).

Paraphrasing Jeanne Safer, Ph.D. Forgiving and Not Forgiving: A New Approach to Resolving Intimate Betrayal. 1999, Avon Books, New York: 96.

International Forgiveness Institute: “A Process Model of Forgiving.” (International Forgiveness Institute: June 27, 2001). The other publications of the International Forgiveness Institute develop these four movements of forgiveness in great detail.

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