forgiveness

Forgiveness as a concept is very, very simple. In practice it's ridiculously complex. I think it's no accident that the prayer for forgiveness comes right after the prayer for bread in the Lord's Prayer. I think if I had an ample supply of bread and forgiveness, I'd be set for the journey. Thinking of the Lord's Prayer, I wonder if I'm alone in thinking that it's not just a prayer request to be forgiven for our myriad shortcomings, it's also a plea for ample stores of forgiveness to dish out to those who hurt us.

Today, my heart compelled me to extend forgiveness to someone who'd hurt me quite profoundly. I knew it was the right thing to do, to lay out the offense for consideration, to call a spade a spade, to accept an apology, forgive and move on. The problem is, the act of forgiving, speaking the words, is no magic bullet. I'm still feeling the pain of the wound. Quite frankly, it's pissing me off that the remorse I saw when discussing the injury, the remorse that prompted my forgiveness, is no longer in evidence. It's bugging me that the forgiven party is moving on as if the offense had never taken place. Never mind that I'm still bruised and bleeding. I want him to feel bad, to experience a profound and debilitating chagrin for at least as long as my own feelings are hurt. All this, of course, has nothing to do with true forgiveness.

My mom once told me a story of how, when I was about five years old, I'd been naughty, caught, and chastised for my bad behaviour. It was explained to me that I needed to say I was sorry to be forgiven. I had a perfect-- a perfectly juvenile, but perfect all the same-- understanding of forgiveness. You say, "I'm sorry," and then you're forgiven, the slate is wiped clean, you get to start over. This is what my church taught me about forgiveness, certainly about the Godly sort of forgiveness. So, I said I was sorry and I meant it! Who wouldn't want to start over? My mom's tale continues with the incredulity she felt when after supper that same night I suggested we all go to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone. This was a very, very rare treat in our home and my mom was appalled that after being naughty I should dare suggest such a thing. I think that was the day I learned that forgiveness wasn't what I thought it was.

Today's experience brought that story to mind and I realized I've lost my juvenile innocence with regard to forgiveness. I told the one who offended against me that he was forgiven. It was the right thing to do. I meant it. But where's the balm in that for me? If I still desire that he feel bad about hurting me, have I really forgiven him? It upsets me that I want him to feel pain, too. That's hardly part of the generosity of spirit that I long to live in.

If anyone out there has some wisdom for me on this point, I'd be glad to hear it. I know I'm forgetting something key to forgiveness that used to make sense... Though I think it's quite possible that forgiveness, in fact, doesn't really make sense in any human understanding of the notion. And I feel light years away from the capacity for anything resembling divine forgiveness. Lord have mercy.