Simon Doonan Holds a Grudge: On the Proper Understanding of Forgiveness

Simon Doonan writes about the healing power of holding a grudge and challenges our “softy” culture.

I understand the sentiment.  Who doesn’t love a grudge?

Fortunately, his description of forgiveness is far from the church’s practice.   Forgiveness should not to diminish the worth of our own suffering, or to make us a nation of push-overs.  Forgiveness- or in the sacraments of the church, absolution – requires a depth of spirit.  For this reason, it is regulated.

Forgiveness cannot be demanded.  One cannot command someone to forgive, just as one cannot tell someone to “feel better.”  That’s emotional manipulation and blackmail.  The victim of a rape cannot be told to forgive; nor can the person’s mother forgive on the victim’s behalf.

Forgiveness also does not substitute for divine justice.  Liberal Christians may define hell all sorts of ways, but let us not forget what it’s there for.  It’s there so that we have a conceptual place for people who are certainly guilty of all sorts of crimes against humanity we cannot imagine doing ourselves, people obviously beyond our moral universe.  It’s there to say to the sociopaths among us that, even if the SEC won’t get you, God will.

For if Simon is saying, let’s us not abandon justice for the sake of forgiveness, he is perfectly right.

Fortunately, that’s not what tradition expects.

We don’t ask for forgiveness on behalf of other people.  If my friend gets murdered, I may ask God for forgiveness for my desire for revenge; but not for my murdered friend’s murderer.  And of course, I may choose instead to let God make whatever decisions about the murderer’s soul.  My hate can be my own.  I’ll let God do the hard work.

Nor should we forgive people who haven’t asked.  We forgive when people seriously and earnestly repent.  When they stop the excuses, the explaining, and recognize their fault and sin, THEN we can begin.  In these cases, the community of faithful people, through the church, may offer absolution.

This does not replace, of course, the demands of the law.

Certainly in the everyday work of living, we will get slighted and bruised.  These do not require forgiveness.  Instead, it is enough that a faithful person learn not to be offended, and to maintain one’s integrity in doing the work of life and seek the magnanimity and joy in life which we believe God wants for us.  An insult to me may merit indifference more than forgiveness.

The church believes in forgiveness, through the sacrament of confession, because it believes it forms a moral conscience, and it limits the damage victims also cause others harm.  We are rarely simply perpetrators or victims; we both cause harm and we receive it.  So t0 forgive has a task: to stop passing victimization along.

To forgive and absolve was handled carefully through the clergy class.   It was understood as a divine act, a gift, an opportunity to begin anew.  God is, by nature, terrifying, fearsome and jealous; the church could be alternately kind and merciful when the penitent came to his or her senses.  It was not meant to be casual or easy, but an opportunity to confirm a sense of right and wrong: a sense of order.

So although grudges are enjoyable, they are rarely helpful. They may have a place in our private imaginations, but they diminish our public life.  Our resentment may be full of error and misplaced pride as much as an expression of injustice.  Holding a grudge cannot replace restoring justice.  I share, for example, Simon’s outrage about the killing of elephants for ivory.  But I am not interested in either forgiveness or holding a grudge.  It should simply stop.  Now.

Our knowledge of goodness and sin are limited.  So we set limits to our behavior and to who has permission to forgive and absolve.  We believe, or hope, that there is eternal justice.  We know we may each be guilty; or vindicated.  But finally we will err on the side of mercy.

After my mother died, however, I ran into a famous poet who had been her mentor.  I’d discovered another time that he’d surreptitiously done great harm to her career.  When he discovered who I was, he said, “I always regretted not giving her the help she deserved.”

I told him to get a priest.

Palm Sunday Evensong Reflection

“Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”  1 Tim 6:12

Palm Sunday, 2013 Evensong

Everyone loves a parade.

Earlier today we began our service parading.  We processed outside, following a bagpiper and carrying palms and singing “All Glory, Laud and Honor.”  It’s movement for the entire congregation from the hall, outside on the sidewalk, and into the sanctuary. 

There is a hint of ridiculousness about it.  I’m in costume, and we’re waving palms,  Following a fellow in a kilt, a festive Gaelic anthem with his pipes.  I think he was Jewish.  Leading us to the doors of the church. 

It’s an expansion of what we do every Sunday, a miniature of the church’s intention.  On most Sundays, the choir and a few ministers, for the sake of efficiency, process on behalf of the entire congregation. The procession itself can be a miniature of our collective walk on earth.  Today we recollect this moment of expectation, hope and celebration.

Most of us love parades, and this one’s a spectacle.  We follow Jesus on a Donkey.  A Donkey.  An ass.  We might not be that organized – it’s spontaneous and festive; they didn’t receive a license from the police department.  Some of the participants are not in line.  Others might be laughing and shouting.  Still others holding back.  Perhaps we are all following him because we are fools; fools for Christ as Paul says.

Many traditions use the metaphor that describes life as a journey. I suspect the intensity of that metaphor reflects our culture’s individualism – we’re out there alone in uncharted territory with only our Good Friend Jesus holding us by the hand, leading us into the sunset of our days until the apocalypse or the end times.  But that view diminishes the way we live together, which is a more chaotic, and less private than we think.  We tend to go where others go, and we follow them, and lead others, and perhaps we don’t give that all that much thought when we’re always thinking of ourselves as individuals.

Many of us have been talking about “leadership” in the church, and it’s true that there’s a lot to be done, and a lot that could have been done if we knew what leadership was supposed to be.  For some it’s charisma; for others it’s taking responsibility; and for others it’s merely having a follower.  But one of the other ideas floating around is called “active followership.”  We’ve got a lot of people who want to lead and need to learn.  But then there are many of us who are just in the parade.  Some of us don’t even know how we got here, but we’re having a good time and going in the same direction.

The letter of Timothy says “fight the good fight.”  This alludes to one aspect of following.  Good followership might mean working, struggling and fighting – engaging – with other people, even your leader.  It means being the sort of follower who knows how to take the initiative and when to be wrong.  It may mean allowing the leader to do the public work a leader does, for almost all the visible work a strong leader accomplishes only happens when there are lots of people supporting the same vision. 

I sometimes say, “my bishop right or wrong.”  Surely some times I’ll find that a difficult place to be.  But I will submit as I’m convinced he’s got the interest of the church, of the world at large, and not merely his own, in mind.  Certainly we will have our differences, but this practice is partially to admit – and I know this will be hard to believe or hear  – I have, sometimes, been wrong.  But the nature of followership, healthy followership, allows me to admit this possibility, and to offer the person I follow the responsibility of making decisions.  

Certainly being a “follower” of Christ is not easy, especially as he’s always asking us who we think he is; but perhaps what makes it bearable is that we – this community here – we are in this ridiculous parade together.

But let’s take care.  Where is Jesus going, anyway?  In the reading, Jesus overturns the tables in the temple.  Today we’re headed – to the temple.  It would be completely reasonable for you to end right there and say you didn’t want to be a part of the parade any more.  Perhaps it might be the reason we sometimes fight with one another:  for the confrontation at the end of the line, the invitation to transformation, are going to be hard places to endure.  But the good fight, one that is shaped by our Lord’s desire to reveal ourselves to ourselves, is how we will be able to stay in the parade and see the work of a changed world that is promised.

It is not all grimness, though the work is hard.  It is not all sourness, though we can be resentful, impetuous and petulant.  But we are led forward, led in a parade, shouting praises.  Sometimes our solemnity and our serious is more like a circus, but we have confidence in our direction.  It might be all we have, now at this time, moments of levity before our Lord is nailed to the cross.  At least we know now what happens after.  We’re graced like that, on the other side of the resurrection; an Easter world.

And everybody loves a parade. 

On Selling our Inheritance

Last June, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, the organizing body of the esteemed institution that I serve, decided to sell its property on Second Avenue in NYC.  It’s where our Presiding Bishop resides and the central office is located.

Certainly there are some good reasons.  After all, our church is declining and we have little money.  And what do they do there in NY, anyway?  NYC is such an elitist, expensive place, with their snobbish restaurants, cultural activities with foreign artists, and expensive hotels.   They have theater.  An entire theater district.   And we’ve got enough of that, thank you very much.

Couldn’t we sell the building and give all the money to the poor?  To the Sudan.  Just wire transfer it there.  If not the Sudan, then Mali or Honduras.   Just give it away.

I appreciate the sentiment.  It won’t create the changes we seek.

Well meaning people suffer from a few common errors.  The first is from the belief that if we sell our wealth and give it away, we will be doing some good to ourselves and to others.  Perhaps we think that with a little money, the poor would suddenly become the middle class with jobs and houses – in control of their lives.  More likely, we’d merely lose our inheritance, the hard work of our previous generations, and still have lots of poor people.  In addition, we’d also have lost an effective staging area, the organization that can help us transform the relationship of donor to client; giver to receiver.   It takes long term work.  It takes training, advocacy and time.  It means building up relationships and institutions.  Certainly we should reinvent our own organization; but selling our property may only diminish our strength rather than invite us to a shared struggle.

The second is a corollary:  a suspicion of any sort of extravagance.  I respect this – while people are skiing in Vail, others are dying in Syria.  How can anyone have a good time?  Yet, the poor woman generously pours out abundance over Jesus; and then the apostles complain, that money could have been given away.  How can we celebrate the resurrection when there are so many people who are dying needlessly?   We just feted our bishop in NY, and I could hear the occasional people complain about the cost.   We couldn’t even appreciate the party that he was throwing for us.  He’d already become a target.

We are eager to sacrifice, but especially when it’s with money we don’t earn ourselves.  We give the money away, cheaply.   For we aren’t actually making the sacrifices that will ensure our institutions can do effective work; we sell for a song the contributions that previous generations made.  We feel righteous for giving our wealth away; when we are meant to be stewards of wealth we inherited.  Our first step should be to give more; not to buy into financial austerity.

What’s disturbing is the number of many Episcopalians who are also instinctively anti-institutional.  I think this reflects our cultural antagonism toward “institutional” religion.  But this is misplaced:  strong institutions create sustained change.  They represent groups of people of a common mind.    We may identify changes in our culture with individuals or movements; but we forget that there were always organizations that made such work possible.    As our market system becomes more sophisticated, the institutions that make that work possible become invisible.  But they are there.  Social media may make us think  individuals are more effective, but Google, Facebook and Twitter are institutions, not merely platforms.  We are ill served when we forget that.

Certainly the institution of the central office should be held accountable; its administration should be staffed with people who are competent and energetic, who understand that good business practices and institutional power are not, in themselves, bad.  They probably should not be priests, aside from those individuals who must perform the church’s role in public.  But such leadership concerns are altogether of a different sort than the magic we expect from releasing the investments we make.

Our institution does need intentional disorganization and thoughtful reorganization.  But while we are certainly eager to do the former, we have little idea how to do the latter.  And selling prime real estate does not give me confidence in our ability to do so.  To some, the selling signifies prophetic action and deliverance.  But it also reflects our miserliness and desperation.

Emory and the politics of compromise

The president of Emory has gotten quite the ass-kicking for calling the 3/5s rule an example of a good compromise.  I admit, I’m perplexed by the push back in part because I’m skeptical of the counterfactual histories his critics presume.

Certainly the best thing was for all people at all times to recognize the immediate humanity of all people.  It would have been desirable and magnificent if such could have been an option.

But we are far from that time.  Can we know how those founders thought?  Certainly counting blacks completely would have given them some humanity; but it would have mainly strengthened southern power:  they wouldn’t have been able to vote.

The most moral option would have been for Southern States to admit they were wrong and the voting rights of their slaves.  But, however luscious and joyful such an image is, it was probably not an option anyone considered.  Unpropertied white men couldn’t vote either.

Perhaps not counting slaves at all would have been the just option, given they had no real representation.  But in that case, we would not have had a country.  And it also signifies that slaves were not actually people.

I do not think that this compromise was the best world.  In my world, if I were God, all people have always been equal, brilliant, understand evolution, the big bang, and math.  We would all love everyone.  But in a different world, one I do not understand, perhaps the 3/5′s rule was a compromise that was worthy.  One does not need to believe that slavery or the dehumanization of blacks was moral to also acknowledge that we make compromises that are imperfect, frail and open to change.  As this one was.  The better option for blacks at this time – counting as nothing – may have been worse in the long run.  We do not know.

But I do think the president of Emory has been misunderstood by well-meaning people.

Goodbye, Benedict

I’m not a hater, although I wasn’t a fan.

I think it was wise and generous for him to resign.   We need not always stay in roles that we have taekn on.  Sometimes if we stay to long the office becomes the person and vice versa.  There is wisdom in avoiding that, if only to let our organizations reorganize and find ways to change.

I do believe Benedict was misinterpreted.  Sometimes his arguments, I suspect, were much more nuanced than could be articulated in the media.  Still, I share the sentiments of plenty of Episcopalians, Anglicans and Catholics that the institutional response of the church toward clerical abuse was inadequate, and it points to a larger tone-deafness of a hierarchy that seems far too distant from the concerns of the people.

I remain fascinated.  In my mind, the Roman Catholic church remains the only institution with the capabilities to challenge the onslaught of market forces internationally.  It is the main international organization that engages regularly with the most wretched of the earth.  By and large, it is controlled locally, rather than by the many aid organizations populated with prosperous Americans from Ivy League Schools participating in charity tourism.

Although many people have noted that John Paul II and Benedict have appointed all the current cardinals, I think it is too strong to assume that the individual bishops do not think independently.  Oscar Romero was a bishop who was considered conservative and meek – and he became one of the greatest proponents of liberation theology.  We do not know where the spirit will take the church.  We can still hope for openness.

Granted, in my darker moments I share the view of the reformers that the Roman church is a nest of vipers and finally beholden to the anti-Christ.  But then I remember that it is also a human body; and however imperfect it has many parts and many roles.  It has hospitals and schools all over the globe; and although it is run by men, it has schools for girls and women in places where there had been none.  It does its own work, without armies, across nations.  And I believe it has also formed plenty of faithful Episcopalians.

I still consider myself a catholic, in its reformed and humanist tradition, and wish the best for the Roman tree, and for Benedict.  I had hoped for more, but bless him in his quiet days.

Roe v Wade: 40 years

It’s the 40th anniversary of Roe V. Wade, and I’m glad for this.    

But even if I were not, I would still support Planned Parenthood.  

For I would still want to have laws that trust women, and implement practices that care for them.

The main reason is simple:  criminalizing abortion does not reduce abortions.   It results in more unsafe abortions.  If we compare the evidence, countries with strong anti-abortion laws do not have their intended effect.    An Anti-Abortion person should recognize the inefficacy of such laws.

Policies that do reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies, however, include greater prosperity for women, better schooling, and access to different options, and good, high quality medical care.   When women have greater access to consistent family planning and contraception, there will be fewer medical procedures that result in terminating pregnancy.  Most likely, Obamacare will be the single greatest force that will reduce abortions.   Thos who are anti- abortion should fight for an economy that promoted greater health care and more jobs with benefits.

That’s not the current political climate, however.

Churches should also stop shaming women for having sex outside of marriage.  The shame puts religious women in a double bind.   It inhibits the women from coming to the church for help; and it implicitly makes children a punishment.

I’m not the first to say such things.  I’m fortunate that I’ve been trusted to give counsel to women who want to know all their options.  It was important that I was non-judgmental.  I encouraged them to get medical help.  I encouraged them to think of their lives many years down the road; to examine their support systems.  It was their choice; and I was free.  We did not have the heavy hand of the state coming in between our understanding of God’s wish for us.

So today is a good day.  It could be better – too many women are finding their practices restricted for political purposes.  But I am celebrating this day as one that now offers all sorts of families greater options for their prosperity and freedom.   

The Definitive Stewardship Soundtrack

Reblogged from Clergy Family Confidential:

A couple of weeks ago, I suggested some songs that would make a good stewardship playlist in a post titled "Music to Give By." I then solicited suggestions and have now developed the Definitive Stewardship Soundtrack. I wanted to get away from songs overtly about money and use songs that got to the heart of stewardship -- cultivating a culture of generosity.

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As always, Fr. Schenk is amusing and insightful.

On the Killing of Chris Stevens

Yesterday Chris Stevens, Ambassador to Libya, was killed by armed men, fundamentalists offended by a video produced here in the United States.  It was a horrible act, one that deserves condemnation.

The Ambassador, by all accounts, represented the best of our foreign service.  He did not get his job because of his contributions to the administration.  He was a career diplomat, someone who served the country through the challenging work of diplomacy.  It’s not an easy job, but it is crucial.  We do not appreciate these sorts of men and women enough.   A good diplomat often earns the respect of the country they serve.  Chris Stevens did.

Good diplomats are truly the first line of defense against aggression.

The initiating cause was a hate-video written for the incendiary purposes of terrifying non-Muslims and insulting the faithful.    They’re excuse:  to inform.  It’s like crying “fire” in a crowded movie theater in order to see if the exit signs work.  The authors are now in hiding – as they should be.  They are cowards.

We are fortunate to live in a country with free speech.  But in an interconnected world what we say gets heard in the rest of the world.    We should be prepared when what we say takes a knife into the hearts of others.

But we need not lose heart.  Plenty of Muslims in the world understand that this is not the American Government.  They also, however, have opportunists who benefit from harnessing violence.  And so the cycle of hate continues.

We need not agree with glib statements that religion causes violence.  In many places throughout the world in history religions have existed together.  But when people in power are themselves fearful and society is anxious, it’s easy to light a match under the feet of the worried and watch the world burn to distract attention upon themselves.

We are one of the few countries where religious tolerance, with some exceptions, is part of our DNA.  Yes, although the Mormons, Amish, Catholics, Atheists and Jews have all experienced hardships, by and large they were each able to carve out places in our public life.  That we have been able to do this is in part because of our beginnings.  John Locke, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson showed no intellectual favoritism; and this was shared by many of their countrymen.

So what we do matters.  It matters that we have protestants and Roman Catholics living side by side.  It matters that Hindus go to Indian restaurants owned by Muslims.  It matters that Jewish institutions finance interfaith works here in Westchester.  Because it reminds the world that different religions can live in peace.

But opportunists know how to fan the flames.  And that’s who we’re talking about.  Opportunists made the video.  Opportunists stormed the embassy.  Most Americans would find the video, itself, scandalous; and few Libyans would support the murder of innocents.  Even now, they are protesting the murders.

The world watches.  If we permit interfaith hatred, it illustrates to other countries that diversity of faith is a threat to social order.  But when we visit and trust our neighbors, we show a better way.  When anyone in our country encourages Islamophobia, we should be clear:  those are not our values.   It was appropriate for the president to say that America does not seek to insult people of different faiths – because it’s true.  Even George Bush called Islam a “noble religion.” “Nobility” aside, insulting others won’t bring peace.  Showing how we live together might.

We can demonstrate a different way.

On Succession and Civil War (Based on Proper 14, year B)

Sometimes leaders stay on too long.

They get tired.  They lose their sense of mission.  They remain because they’ve grown used to power and can’t imagine not having authority.  Some leave gracefully, like Julius Nyerere in Tanzania; others hold on like Mubarak in Egypt.

Most stay too long.

Institutions get nervous during times of transition.  It’s one reason monarchies develop – business can continue smoothly. Even non-monarchies like Syria, North Korea, India and the US each have their peculiar political dynasties.  And the problem of succession is not merely experienced by nations, but by corporations, churches and other bodies that get work done.

There are good reasons to be anxious.  If succession doesn’t happen well, we run the risk of civil war.  In the midst of such trouble, it’s easy to forget the basic rules that keep the nation peaceful.   We look to the rule book to ensure peace.  In our political life, for example, we can disagree, but everyone has a right to vote (well, perhaps not these days).

In the reading last Sunday, David had ruled for nearly forty years; he’d been running the kingdom from the office, and although he remained enthusiastic and confident in his abilities, his soldiers were unimpressed.  David’s son Absalom wanted his own turn. He’d gathered support and was undermining his father.

Perhaps Absalom thought the throne should have been his; perhaps he thought his father was too disinterested, too old to rule effectively.  He knew he could do better.

But Absalom’s thick, long hair was caught in a tree, and as he hung, Joab, David’s advisor, disobeyed the command to keep Absalom alive.

Joab believed, perhaps, Absalom would not truly submit; that there would always be the risk of Absalom’s treason.  Perhaps Joab was jealous of Absalom.  Joab had worked for David’s favor; while Absalom held David in contempt but David still adored him.

The story does not have a clear moral – it lifts up for us to see how family love and political necessity create chaos.  We do not know if Absalom would have been a good king or not.  We only know that David also had a deep love that was stronger than his son’s betrayal.

In the day’s gospel, alluding to Torah, Jesus tells us he is the bread of life.  In the wilderness, generations had passed; the older generation that remembered Egypt as a secure home was being replaced by a new generation looking forward.   Remember there was conflict along the way; in part because of the differences in generations succeeding each other; and the temptation of ineffective Gods along the way.  But they were fed, and would come to the new abundant land.

The way we think of the bread of life is one way the church asks us to look at the threat of chaos and civil war.  Jesus is the son of the Father; who takes on a role as the obedient son – who survived his own death.  We eat the bread to represent ritually that even though we are individuals, who may be stubborn, proud and envious, we nonetheless share in this one participatory act of mutual honor and submission.  We trust that we need not be defined by our urge to kill each other; that we need not always fear being the loser in our daily work.

For around the table, as we eat the bread, scripture says there is enough for all.   The raised Jesus is meant  to free us from the  worry raised by the disappearance of strong leadership.  Instead, the reminder: when we learn we have enough, there will be enough for all.

It may be too much to hope for a world where we can all acknowledge our limits; that we can be free while accepting our common inheritance; and that liberation requires responsibility. But we elevate the bread and wine of life, if only to show the contrast, that we still have a choice:  Life or death; together we will survive.  Alone we will not.

Not as a nation.  Not as a world.

10 Things That Annoy the Rev. Dr. Gawain de Leeuw

Reblogged from 10 Things That Annoy Me:

10 Things that Annoy The Rev. Dr. Gawain de Leeuw

1. Lowfat Yogurt.

2. Toe fungus.

3. The Transportation Security Administration.

4. Commercials before two minute YouTube videos about kittens.

5. That sugar is in everything.

6. The excuse, “I can’t sing.”

7. Liturgical Ministers who arrive 15 minutes before mass. That’s late.

8. My phone's battery life.

9. Cheap beer.

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