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 The Journey of Forgiveness |
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25 February 2007 It was impossible for me to watch the just-released movie Amazing Grace and not think of the topic we will be exploring during this season of Lent: the issue of forgiveness. Forgiveness is offered in Jesus’ final words from the cross; it’s the subject of that favorite parable—the story we usually refer to as the Prodigal Son; it is assured to the penitent at the end of confession. Forgiveness is a part of the liturgical life of the church, and as our Amish sisters and brothers vividly demonstrated for a stunned and horrified nation, it is part of the practice of faithful living, sometimes leading us Christians to think that we have an exclusive claim to it. But in fact, most of the world’s major religious traditions teach forgiveness in some way. It is both taught and practiced within Jewish, Muslim, and Buddhist traditions, and was among the many teachings of the well-known Hindu, Mahatma Gandhi. Even as he lay dying at the hands of his assassin, he forgave the man who killed him. Today is the first Sunday of Lent, the six weeks leading up to Holy Week and Easter. It is a time of reflection, of preparation, a time to look not only at our personal practices of faith, but also at our life together. In particular, over these next few weeks, I am inviting you to join me as we explore the teaching and practice of forgiveness. It’s a practice approached from any number of angles, but this morning I want to look specifically at what forgiveness does to one’s self, which was one of the several poignant components of Amazing Grace. Sometimes epic moments such as these of this story give us insight to our own faith and its practice. The title of the movie comes from one of Western Christianity’s most beloved hymns, but the movie actually tells the story of British parliamentarian and antislavery pioneer William Wilberforce. Wilberforce knew and was influenced strongly by John Newton, the one-time slave trader whose own conversion experience led him to write the hymn used in the movie’s title. In the course of the movie, Wilberforce visits Newton in a tiny city church where Newton survives in self-imposed penance, dressed in rags reminiscent of Quasimodo. Time and again, Newton urges Wilberforce to continue the anti-slavery fight; yet Newton himself resists writing his own memoirs or providing a written account of the vile practice he both perpetrated and witnessed. Time and again, Newton alludes to the 20,000 souls who haunt his world, day and night. Souls whose names he never knew, souls whose names he once knew but can remember no longer, souls whose names were changed for the convenience of their captors. Even though he knows the blessings of God’s unconditional forgiveness, Newton cannot forgive himself his role in the trade he comes to revile. Nearly two decades later, Newton finally is able to write. Or more correctly, a scribe is able to do so; Newton himself is now physically blind. But his writings add to the weight of testimony against the inhumanity and immorality of the slave trade, and the tide turns. Parliament to passes the first anti-slavery bill in 1807. The movie release coincides with the 200th anniversary of that milestone.[1] It’s probably pure Hollywood, but Newton is in the gallery as the vote is taken—a vote which passes with an overwhelming majority. Like Legion in the gospels, the demon-possessed man who lives in the tombs, Newton now is fully clothed. His demeanor is no longer that of a haunted man. He is able to receive God’s forgiveness, because through his writings, he finally is able to give an honest account of the things he did. He finally is able to forgive himself. It is shameful to note that only yesterday—a full 200 years after Britain abolished slavery, and nearly 400 years after the first Africans arrived in Virginia, did even one state in this Union finally apologize for its government-sponsored participation in that heinous practice. Sadly, although slavery is no longer a government-sponsored practice here, more people are now enslaved worldwide than at the height of the slave trade in Britain and the United States combined. Newton’s difficulty in forgiving himself is hardly unique. We’ve all heard the claim, “If such-and-such happened, I could never forgive myself.” Maybe we’ve even said something to that effect ourselves. For a trite expression, it reflects a profound truth: forgiveness is a necessary, critical piece of the journey toward wholeness that is part of the very fabric of a healthy psyche and a healthy faith. Forgiveness itself is a letting go of anger or resentment surrounding real or perceived offences. It is letting go of the desire to punish, the desire for revenge. Forgiveness is making the choice not to carry the emotional freight of wrong-doing. That’s not an easy choice. Whether the wrong is done to us or by us, we nurse the anger it generates. One internet website blogger writes, “Grandpa…killed a ‘colored man’ way back when he was hardly a man himself, a mere teenager, just about a hundred years ago. It was the south and he got away with it, yet it ate at him (cancer, in fact) for the rest of his life, finally devouring him in his own shame and separation.”[3] The blogger’s grandfather was every bit as imprisoned by his shame as Newton was by his. Both men recognized the hurt they had caused others, and internalized the anger and shame that hurt generates. The words of Frederick Buechner in Wishful Thinking, plum the depths of the process.[4]
Linda Douty summarizes: “the bitter cost of unforgiveness [is] nothing short of the utter erosion of one’s life.”[4] Luke, with profound psychological insight, shows Jesus’ temptations to rely upon his unique spiritual gifts for his own gratification and glory. For Jesus, giving in to those temptations would be the utter erosion of his life. In the dialogue with the devil, Jesus confronts the potential misuse of his own spiritual gifts, and refuses to go that route. Instead, he voluntarily, openly, centers himself in God’s grace. That same kind of critical honesty with ourselves that is essential to forgiveness. It is what Newton finally achieves with his writing. It is what Peter finally achieves when the cock crows. It is what Judas and the blogger’s grandfather never manage. C.S. Lewis writes that “…the gate to hell is locked from the inside.” Douty concludes: “the invitation to forgive reminds us that we hold the key.”[4] The very, very good news is that we never, ever have to use that key alone. Jesus has done so already, and stands by us and walks with us every step of the way. Thanks be to God! *** [1]www.beliefnet.com/story/210/story_21027_1.html |