As some of you may know, the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur is this week. Yom Kippur literally means “Day of Atonement,” and it is a solemn day of fasting and penitence. Almost every religion has a similar period of atonement, and I thought it would be a good time to think about not just making amends for our own offenses, but also considering forgiving others for their misdeeds, whether they have acknowledged or apologized for them, or not.
Many of us worry that offering forgiveness is a sign of weakness.
Merriam-Webster defines weakness as the “inability to withstand attack or wounding.” But, if we are considering forgiveness, then by definition, we have already withstood wounding and pain, and rather, we are considering releasing that pain – an act of great strength and courage.
Others worry that by forgiving we are giving the offender a “free pass.”
What do we care if we give the other a “free pass?” How does that hurt us in any way? In my mind, we are missing the point. Forgiveness is not about the other person at all, but about releasing our own pain, and liberating our hearts to feel love and connection.
Forgiveness happens inside the person doing the forgiving. It heals our pain and resentment before it does anything for the person we forgive; they might never know about it. The Art of Forgiving, Lewis Smedes.
A friend forwarded me a beautiful piece on forgiveness that talks about this messy notion of justice – that it feels impossible to forgive someone if we know what they did to us is not right, and that it would not be fair to “let them off the hook.” This essay was written by Rebecca Minkus-Lieberman, co-founder of the Orot Center for Jewish Learning (described as a home for mindful learning and practice).
“Last week, I was in the car running errands, listening to NPR, when StoryCorps came on the air, the segment which shares a snippet of a precious conversation recorded between 2 family members or friends. This particular morning, the conversation was one with Terri Roberts, the mother of a man who, ten years ago, barricaded himself inside a one-room Amish schoolhouse near Lancaster, Pennsylvania and opened fire, killing 5 young schoolgirls and injuring 5 others before killing himself. In the recorded interview, Terri remembers the day of the shooting when she discovered that the shooter had been her own son. But she focuses on the private funeral that they had for him.
She says: ‘As we walked to the gravesite, we saw 30-40 Amish start coming out from the side of the graveyard. They surrounded us like a crescent. Love just emanated from them.’ In the wake of this horrific tragedy, in the days after losing their own precious children, the Amish community chose to build a story of forgiveness, reaching out towards the parents of their children’s killer with love.
I sat there in the car crying. Inspired. Moved. And honestly wondering, how does one forgive in such a situation? On the heels of such unimaginable grief, when you have just lost your child, how is it possible to reshape the contours of your heart and actively cultivate forgiveness, even in the absence of justice?
In my own experience, standing up on Yom Kippur (the Jewish day of Atonement, like Lent), speaking my personal wrongdoings aloud, and pledging to give more attention to these challenging areas of myself – all of that is easier than turning to another person who has wounded me deeply and offering him or her true and complete forgiveness of spirit. A forgiveness that is a real release of that past hurt. I believe that we all have those places within that are holding pain, pain that we have come to attribute to the actions of another person. Maybe we feel like we let it go years ago, but know, in truth, that it still resides within us. We still carry it.
Why is forgiving another so difficult? David Whyte, Irish poet and philosopher, writes: ‘Forgiveness is a heartache and difficult to achieve because strangely, it not only refuses to eliminate the original wound, but actually draws you closer to its source.’
It is hard because if we really intend to move towards forgiving another, we must turn towards that original place of hurt. We have to summon up that moment, the experience when we felt betrayed, abandoned, disappointed, when raw harm was inflicted on us. We need to look it in the eyes and not flinch. We have to welcome that pain back into our lives and sit next to it. And when we do that, our first human inclination is often to go straight to the realm of justice. When we do not forgive, it is often because we feel wronged. Forgiveness becomes embedded in our notion of justice. We know that what was done to us was not right, and we get attached to what is right and what is wrong. They don’t deserve our forgiveness. They didn’t earn it. It was not and is not fair. Why should I forgive her? Justice is a strong but messy impulse. Forgiveness, I believe, can mean loosening our grasp on justice in order to move towards love (emphasis added).
Can you loosen your grasp on justice to move towards healing and love?
Still others argue that it is impossible to forgive because it means we must forget the wrongs that were done to us.
Again, this way of thinking is missing the point. Renowned couple’s therapist, Michele Weiner-Davis writes that: “Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. You will probably always remember the particular injustice(s) that drove you into your corner. But what will happen is that when you forgive, the intense emotions associated with the event(s) begin to fade. You will feel happier, lighter, more loving.” As illustrated in this classic Buddhist teaching, forgiving, whether we forget the misdeeds or not, allows us to release our own burdens.
Two monks on a journey came to a raging river. There they saw a woman in distress. She needed to cross the river, but she was afraid she was not strong enough to fight the current. Without thought, one of the monks took her on his back and carried her across the river and put her on the dry ground. She thanked him profusely. When both monks were across and continuing on their way, the one monk berated the other: “we are not supposed to touch women – you have broken your vows”. The monk continued on and on in this fashion. The monk who had carried the woman across walked silently, but finally remarked: “I already set the woman down on the river bank, but you are still carrying her.” Forgiving does not mean forgetting, it sometimes just means putting down a burden and letting it go.
Aren’t you ready to release some of your burdens?
Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, and it is a decision you make.
Couples therapist, Michele Weiner-Davis, writes that “lack of forgiveness imprisons you. It takes its toll on your physical and emotional health. It keeps you stuck in the deepest of relationship ruts.… No matter how justified you feel about your point of view regarding your partner’s insensitive behavior, you still are miserable. You can’t feel joy because you’re too busy being angry or feeling disappointed….Letting go of resentment can set you free. It can bring more love and happiness into your life. It opens the door to intimacy and connection. It makes you feel whole. Forgiving others takes strength, particularly when you feel wronged, but the fortitude required to forgive pales in comparison to the energy necessary to maintain a sizable grudge….Just keep in mind that forgiveness isn’t a feeling. It is a decision. You decide that you are going to start tomorrow with a clean slate. Even if it isn’t easy, you make the determination that the alternative is even harder, and that you are going to do what you must to begin creating a more positive future. So promise yourself, that no matter what the reason, you will not go another day blaming your partner and feeling lonely. Make peace. Make up. Make love.”
I challenge each of you to find some time, on one of these exquisitely beautiful fall weekends, to quiet your ego and your need for justice, to release some of your burdens and liberate your heart by looking for the strength and courage to take at least one step towards forgiveness and love.
