FORGIVENESS: SPIRITUAL SALVE FOR THE SOUL Shannon Hodges, Ph.D., OblSB.  

         Perhaps during the course of your own spiritual journey, you have crossed paths with an individual who seemed capable of forgiveness at a superhuman level. For me, Martin Luther King, Jr. was such a person. As a young boy growing up in the segregationist South, I was deeply moved by Dr. King’s message of unity and forgiveness. "No one is free, until we are all free," I remember Dr. King saying in one of his speeches. He constantly preached the need to protest the inhumane treatment of black people, but always insisted that it be carried out in a non-violent manner.

        Terry Anderson is another such person. He was kidnapped by Shiite Moslem extremists in Lebanon and held captive for seven years. His story, detailed in his book Den of Lions, describes much suffering, torture and isolation.  If anyone had reasons to hate and feel bitter, he would certainly be among them. Yet Terry Anderson, like Martin Luther King, Jr. before him, worked actively on forgiving his captors. The question I ask myself on this Good Friday is, "Would I be so forgiving?" Or would I instead allow myself to become bitter, resentful, and asking for retribution? And this is a question not only for Good Friday: St. Benedict tells us that "the life of a monastic ought to be a continuous Lent." This life is one continuous cycle of death and rebirth, of dying to our hurts and anger and rising to become a whole person. There is no part of our life that is not intimately connected to the great journey of moving deeper and deeper into the mystery of God.
 
          As a candidate for oblation, I thought much about the "call to wholeness," as a clerical friend and fellow therapist calls it. In my work as a mental health professional over the past 15 years, I have had many  opportunities to observe the unhealthy effects of resentment. Forgiveness is the solution to our problems: "Forgive as Jesus forgave those who conspired and crucified him," or "Let go, and let God," are messages I hear frequently.

         In all honesty, I find such statements insensitive, lacking in substance and unrealistically vague in daily, practical terms. Forgiveness is not a simple matter. It is hardly as simple as saying to oneself, "Ok. That's done. Its no big deal." Most of us know that it does not work that way. Rather, forgiveness is an ongoing process and not a simple destination. This is especially true when what we are trying to forgive is a part of a greater pattern rather than an isolated incident. Many of us struggle, for example, with forgiving our parents for various missions or even for patterns of abuse and neglect. Such a task of forgiveness may be a lifelong process, chipping away piece by piece.

        I recall a former client who was very angry with his five children. The man was a devout Catholic who had raised his children in the faith; but for whatever reason, all of them have left the Church. "Where's God now that my kids have gone astray? I pray regularly that He will bring them back, but He doesn't seem to hear me. I wonder if He's really there." My client was very angry and quite resentful at his kids for choosing to follow their own paths, rather than continuing on with the family religion. It was hard to resist the temptation to suggest that perhaps God is present by providing spiritual comfort and support to us when we feel disappointed, hurt and devalued, instead of being some cosmic Santa Claus who distributes "goodies." Perhaps the real question to ask ourselves is, "As I affirm the love of God, how can I come to accept and love people even when they make decisions that hurt and disappoint me?"

        The first step on the road to forgiveness is to decide if we even want to forgive. Resentments, after all, provide us a sense of protection from those who hurt us. They serve as a type of emotional armor, thickening our hide and giving us an extra coating. Being asked to drop our resentments leaves us feeling vulnerable. Forgiveness does not mean remaining in or renewing an empty or abusive relationship. If the patterns that we are trying to forgive still remain, it may in fact be better for us to forgive while at the same time removing ourselves from the relationship.

        We may also hesitate at the doorway to forgiveness because we may believe that if we forgive, we are saying that the offense is no longer a big deal.  In other words, we may assume that forgiveness includes condoning the offense. But it is possible, even important, to forgive while at the same time continuing to hold the person accountable. This is a variation on the old theme, "Hate the sin, but love the sinner." Perhaps it might be better stated as, "Love the sinner, but help them understand how their behavior, or sin, if you will, isolates them from others (either drinking, unhealthy sexual behavior, judgment, etc.).

        Sometimes we get caught up in the cliché, "Forgive and forget." Again, this may not be a good idea, specially when dealing with a person who remains at risk to hurt us again. As De Toqueville said, "those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it." Remembering pain and disappointment as a reference point (i.e., not putting oneself in the position of continuing to be hurt) is very different from choosing to hold on to the resentment, where it holds power over us.

        Power is a key to understanding forgiveness. If I continue to resent someone, then that person still has some power over me, even though they may be far away, or even deceased. For example, if when I think of the bully who beat me up when I was ten, and I still get a knot in my stomach, then that bully is still in charge. But when I forgive, I reclaim the power which was taken from me by the bully (I still abhor the bully’s methods, of course). Thus, forgiveness benefits first and foremost the person doing the forgiving.

        We also cannot forgive something without acknowledging the hurts done to us. For example, if I was abused as a child, I cannot come to a point of forgiveness until I can acknowledge the wound. This may seem simplistic, but many adults who were abused as children remain protective of those who abused them, minimizing what was done to them or blaming themselves ("I was bad, and deserved what I got"). To forgive, I must face the reality of what was done to me. This face of reality also includes facing feelings about what happened. This may include accepting anger or  beginning a process of grieving: "If I face my abuse/neglect/disappointment, then I may need to grieve over the issue."

        Everything in our lives - forgiveness, commitments (to a spouse, the monastic community, jobs, etc.) - is a part of the mystical journey we all travel. As spiritual people who have committed ourselves to share a commonality (as oblates) and a community (Saint John's), it is incumbent on us that we look inside and examine ourselves and our life tasks. Pain, tragedy and disappointment will certainly happen, as they are as much a part   of   our   lives as   joy, contentment and celebration. Part of our task as oblates and Christians is to continue moving on our path even when wounded and weary. Daily we carry our crosses, both great and small, as we travel our path in life. Because the journey can be long and trying, it is wise that we seek out guidance. As oblates, we benefit from spiritual direction from an elder monk; others may use rabbis, pastors, or even a good friend. What is important is that we understand and reach out for help and counsel along our way. The good news is that we are given a lifetime to practice both forgiveness and healing.

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