Forgiveness is a painful process, and
there is no way through the process except through it.
I encountered the workings of the process
vividly even before I understood the grieving process. I was meeting with a woman unable to escape
from the grip of a suffocating depression.
As we prayed together, she blurted out:
"I can't forgive him, and I won't." Somehow, talking to God spontaneously had
tapped a long-buried memory of being sexually abused by a neighbor who was
regarded by her parents as a virtual grandfather to their children.
Somehow, I resisted the temptation to
assert that she should forgive, if she wanted to be a good Christian, or that
she must forgive, if she wanted to find a way out of her depression. Such responses would have pressured her to
re-bury the pain, shame, rage and anxiety that had ruled her life for far too
long. And somehow, I realized that the
significance of my conviction that Jesus' healing and life-giving love for each
of us comes to us through one another.
As that realization sunk in, I heard the
call to walk through that dark valley (the valley of death) with her, without
judgments or agendas. Sometimes, I
wanted to rescue her from the excruciating pain she voiced as she relived the horrible
experiences of her childhood. At these
times, I must have heard echoes of Jesus' cry in the Agony of the Garden,
"Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me, but not my will
but thine be done", since I responded simply with compassion and understanding.
After several months, she moved from
"I can't forgive him, and I won't" to "I want to forgive him,
but I can't." Two separate dynamics
were at work. On the one hand, she
wanted to be free of the pain, rage, shame and anxiety that had plagued her for
so long, so that she could get on with her life. (When this urge reached fruition, forgiveness
of him would be a gift she gave to herself.)
On the other, she started to refer to him as a pathetic, lonely man, not
a monster, as her compassion was freed from the rule of rage.
A few months later, she spoke of rejoicing
in the freedom she felt in her involvements with loved ones and with God. And I realized that the process of
forgiveness is never complete until wounds have been healed in ways that enable
us to embrace our flawed existence as human beings with joy.
Summary:
A student framed this process accurately in a concise statement: "Men never forgive; they regard forgiveness as a sign of weakness. Women forgive too easily; they want desperately to be nice, and they
shouldn't have bad thoughts."
Here, I find myself grieving once again
over the conclusion reached by a Conference sponsored by the Roman Curia. The manifesto produced by this gathering of
like-minded theologians attributed the virtual disappearance of the Sacrament
of Reconciliation to a loss of a sense of sin.
Here, I simply suggest that a sense of guilt cannot voice a call to
enter the grieving process which moves from "I can't forgive, and I
won't" to "I want to forgive, but I can't," to a renewed embrace
of one's deepest longing for a fully human and uniquely personal existence and
for intimate interactions with the Father, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and loved
ones.
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