This brief note is an extension of my longer series of reflections on the theme of turning in human development and in the Judeo-Christian tradition. At the end of the third of those notes, devoted in part to Stephen Mitchell's refreshingly unorthodox reading of Jesus's parable of the prodigal son, I started to think about forgiveness, especially in a Christian context. I want here simply to extend those thoughts. Later I expect to write more about forgiveness in different circumstances and traditions.
Reading what Jesus is said to have said about forgiveness, I sometimes found myself puzzled that he sounded like he was describing a bargain, or weighing with one of those scales held by the statuesque and blind figure of justice.
“If you forgive others their offenses, your heavenly Father will forgive you.” “If you don’t judge, you will not be judged; if you don’t condemn you will not be condemned; if you forgive, you will be forgiven.” Why did that language distress me?
Because I’m afraid I’m going to lose in the forgiveness sweepstakes, and end up judged, condemned and unforgiven. Because I secretly decided longer ago than I can remember that it was irredeemably my fault, and therefore unforgivable. Because I wanted, sometimes, to feel good about trespassing, holding that weasely wretch to his debt, judging the fool who tried to climb Mt. Washington in winter in sneakers, and endangered not only his own life but others too; condemning a murderer without compunction to the death he inflicted on others; retaliating in kind for an unimaginably grievous wrong.
I’ll never forget the moment of ringing clarity with which Stephen Mitchell, unbeknownst to him, found me figuratively in the bushes—deep in that hedge surrounded by a moldy, wet igloo of abandoned paper—and set me gently back on my path. What he wrote wasn’t entirely welcome—in fact, there are days when I have wished his words away. It’s irritating that one can’t do that with insight that is so palpably true. Here’s are his words:
“Jesus doesn’t mean that if you do condemn, God will condemn you; or that if you don’t forgive, God won’t forgive you. He is pointing to a spiritual fact: when we condemn it’s like sticky fly paper, but worse: we create a world of condemnation for ourselves, and we attract the condemnation of others; when we cling to an offense, we are clinging to precisely what separates us from our own fulfillment. Letting go means not only releasing the person who has wronged us, but releasing ourselves. A place opens up inside us where that person is always welcome, and where we can always meet her again, face to face. In these sayings of Jesus, God is a mirror reflecting back to us our own state of being or moving in the world. We receive exactly as we give. The more open hearted we are, the more we can experience the whole universe as God’s grace. Forgiveness is essentially openness of heart.”
The last lines of T.S. Eliot’s “Ash Wednesday” are below. May they serve as a kind of concluding benediction to this collection of thoughts on turning. I asked a calligrapher friend many years ago to write them on parchment. They've greeted me on the wall of the steps I tread daily ever since.
Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit
of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.
