Forgiveness

Yesterday my supervisor told me, “forgiveness is letting go of wanting to re-write the past”.


This is SO true and SO difficult. To me it correlates with the phrase, “If I had known then what I know now…” Then, I would have been more compassionate. Then, I would have done things differently. Then, I would have let this person go sooner or held on to that one longer. Then, I would have moved or stayed, quit or kept going. The list goes on and on. Today I am wondering how helpful this “If…., then…” game really is.

It seems as if our gut reaction sometimes is to punish ourselves for not knowing things that we realistically only could have learned through experience. We blame ourselves for not having the wisdom and forethought in youth or adulthood that can only come with time. We get angry at ourselves, for what? For being human? How ridiculous that seems when said aloud.

And yet, I surely am not immune to berating myself for past imperfections, failures in judgment, or even for good decisions made with honest intention that simply turned out bad anyway. So, what does it mean to truly let “go of wanting to re-write the past”? How do we accept what has been and move towards forgiveness of ourselves and others? Further still, how do we learn not merely to accept the past but to bless it, to be thankful for it?

For me this looks like appreciating the wisdom, empathy, and patience that I am sometimes able to practice now, instead of dwelling on the times when I have not been so grounded in the past. For me it looks like cherishing the 21yr old scared, guilt-ridden, passive version of myself who was really doing the best she knew how to do at the time, instead of blaming her for not doing better. In order to bless my past, I must be grateful for the authentic, kind, purposeful intention with which it was carried out.

In order to re-write my past, I would have to re-write experiences that have taught me priceless lessons. In re-writing the past, everything I know and love and fear about my life at this moment, in this place, on this day, would be up for grabs. Would I be sitting here, in this office, with the sun beating on my back, and a cup of tea by my side? Who knows? In order to re-write my past I would have to forego my present. And my present, despite its’ imperfections, is beautiful and peaceful and everything I need and want right now. Not only is forgiveness letting go of wanting to re-write the past, but forgiveness is also accepting, blessing, and celebrating the present.

So, on this day, I choose to celebrate my past. I celebrate my present. I celebrate my future and all that it will be, whatever that is.

Hachi

Recently I watched the movie Hachi with my mom.  Hachi is based on the story of Hachi, a dog who lived in Japan in the 1920’s.  The story goes that Hachi as a puppy got lost at a train station where a Professor found him and took him home to provide him shelter for the evening.  When after several days no one claimed Hachi, the Professor’s wife agreed to allow the Professor to keep him.  There began a very unique relationship between man and dog.  Every day, Hachi would walk the Professor to the train station where he would board the train to go to work.  Hachi would go home during the day and when evening came and the Professor stepped off of the train to return home, there Hachi would be again waiting for him. 

One morning, Hachi walked the Professor to work as usual.  That sad day, however, the Professor had a heart attack, died and never returned.  Hachi waited patiently at the train station until late in the evening when finally someone came to retrieve him.  Over the next few days, Hachi escaped from his new home several times to return to the train station.  Finally, his new owners let him go.  The story goes that for the next nine years, Hachi waited every day at the train station for the Professor to return.  The passengers and employees of the station got to know Hachi and fed him and cared for him so that he could simply wait.  Eventually, Hachi died at the train station still waiting for the Professor.  Today there sits at that station in Japan a stone statue of Hachi. 

After watching the movie, I started thinking about who in my life would wait for me.. every day without fail.. to return, to come home.  Who in my life would sacrifice all other activities, places, people, needs, to simply sit and watch and wait for me.  That’s when I started thinking about God.

I realized that God is always waiting for me to come home… not necessarily simply in the eternal sense, not just when I die.. but that God is waiting for me to return to God’s side, daily… perhaps, minute by minute.  When I step away from the person I want to be..  when I struggle and question and doubt… when I fight and isolate…  when I feel all alone.. when I am joyful and grateful…  at all those times and many more, my Creator.. my loyal companion is simply waiting for me to return.  And God waits with the non-judgmental love and compassion of Hachi….  God waits not simply to judge us once we walk through those train station doors.. to ask us where we’ve been…  no, my God waits simply in order to rejoice at my homecoming.       

I believe this may be true for us all… no matter what we are experiencing this day, how hard life might seem, how truly alone we might feel, what if we could imagine and truly believe that around every corner there was an invisible Hachi just waiting to remind us that we are loved, we are valuable, we are enough, we are home.  

What if we could trust that the Universe would never abandon us and never give up on us.  

The Trees Today

Today I was asked to respond to this question:

What is your experience of God and how is it shaping your theology?

Here are my thoughts:

 

            As I sit in this coffee shop, I look out the window next to me to see a small bit of untamed land; a small piece of natural, quiet, beauty amidst the otherwise busy and commercialized Hennepin Avenue.  The trees there today look still and steady, claiming their space.  The leaves are vibrant: piercing flashes of red, orange, yellow and green on a backdrop of grays and browns.  I can’t really explain how such brilliant, lively, lovely color speaks to me of God, but it does.

            My experience of God is not only like those trees but it is those trees.  God is alive and present in all that is still and steady.. in my breath.. in this warm, unassuming mocha.. in the people in my life who love me through my faults.. in the voice inside of me that is also constant and claiming its’ space. 

            God is also alive in flashes of color.. in beauty.. in easy laughter… in a dog who welcomes me daily.. a home that exudes safety and confidence… in big, real hugs from children whom I love and trust.. in all the people and places that show up in my life in often surprising ways to teach me and remind me about change, vibrancy, honesty, mystery, joy, hope, beauty, life, and love. 

            Yes, perhaps my entire experience of God, the Universe, can be summed up in my experience of these trees, this mocha and this couch on this day.

            This awareness has and continues to shape my theology immensely.  Just as no one can claim to own these trees.. to have the right to them.. to possess them fully and uniquely.. so it is with God.  No one person, group, community, or religion can fully and exclusively own, express, know, or possess, God.  God leaves God’s self, open to be witnessed by all at all times.  In the same, God doesn’t demand our attention… God doesn’t debate for it or advertise…  God doesn’t fail to exist just because we failed to notice or respond.. God simply is. 

            God invites.  And the invitation is always open, at all times, in all places, to all people.  It is an invitation to be united to God, to make a connection, to glimpse and be grounded in the awe-inspiring beauty that God is.. and hence that we are too.   

Truth

Over the course of the last few years, I have realized that my spirituality has become very open. By that, I mean, I have come to appreciate and respect that no one dogma or doctrine or tradition or creed or faith has the monopoly on the Truth.


Initially this idea scared me. I had always thought that faith and Truth were an either/or… either yours is right or mine is. To a certain, logical extent, this makes sense. It makes sense because different traditions often have different ways of seeing the world and hence in a way they contradict each other… and so, it makes sense to wonder: how can two contradictory worldviews be simultaneously true?

Thinking in this way scared me because for the first time in my life it caused me to question: what if my way, my Truth, my beliefs, are the wrong ones? I think that it is this black and white, either/or thinking that traps people. It has a way of forcing people to cling to their beliefs so strongly, compelling them to use all of their energy, words and actions to win in the tug-of-war between us and them. It’s too scary and overwhelming to think everything you’ve ever thought to be true might be wrong or only partially true, so instead, you hold firm and tight and throw questions and accusations elsewhere.

Somewhere along the line, through Divine intervention perhaps, I came instead to adopt a both/and vision of faith.. both mine and yours can be true. Both mine and yours have value and importance. This rings more true for me, it is a worldview I can sleep with. My struggle, however, is how to hold this belief and simultaneously live in a world where the stakes are high and people are imperfect and hence hurtful. In essence, my struggle, is with this word “can” and what falls into that category.

People use their Truth in various ways to hurt others and limit others and oppress others, and that doesn’t seem right, it doesn’t feel right. Such views cause me to think that they don’t fall into the “can be true” category. But if I say that that Truth isn’t real, aren’t I back to deciding what’s right and what’s wrong? Who am I to say whose beliefs are really real and right and whose are wrong? Where do you draw the line? How do you hold an openness that promotes life, dignity, and freedom without leading to anarchy?

It almost feels as if my discomfort with those who are judgmental is in turn judgmental… I’m judging the judgers. So, in efforts not to do that, I let them be who they are, but then bad things happen and people are hurt. So, I try to be a stronger voice for humanity and then in the end it feels as if I am back exactly where I started believing that my way, my Truth is in fact right and those who don’t get it are wrong. Either you believe in that which is life-giving or you don’t, and if you don’t.. well, then, I don’t buy it.

It's all very interesting.  But is it true? 

Parting words of wisdom....

One of my favorite things to ask adults, whether recovering addicts at a homeless shelter or successful business men and women, is: if you could impart any wisdom, any advice, upon young people today, what would it be?

I’m afraid that if asked this question I would have way too much to say.

More than anything, I would remind them that they are gifted, they are beautiful, they are valuable.  They are not valuable just because of what they can do…. of how they can perform, of how intelligent they are, or how many letters they have on their Jacket; no, they are valuable just by merit of being the only them ever to exist.  They are valuable because they are made in the image of God and are a temple of the Divine spirit dwelling within them.

After that, I would say: life is hard and people are imperfect.  Good people die, bad people win, things happen that are out of your control and the world is messy.  Even so, life is worth it.  What matters most in life are not the things we accumulate, our possessions, our awards, what matters are our relationships.  People matter.  One good day, one good conversation that is honest, one true connection with another human soul can make all the other chaos more than acceptable. 

Our role on this earth is not to be perfect people so that bad things don’t happen to us.  Our role is to be the very best version of our self that we possibly can be and to wake up every day with the determination to try again to do the same.  Our role is to be grateful for the incredible beauty that surrounds us and to do our part to love one another.

Loving one another is hard.  (This goes back to the whole we’re not perfect thing).  But we try… and we remember that loving, forgiving, embracing, is way better than the alternative.  Every time I have loved another person, I have grown… I have experienced joy… I have been fulfilled.  Loving other people is worth it, even when they don’t love you back because loving other people reminds us about who we are and what we yearn for.   Be compassionate, empathetic, and nonjudgmental….  look for the good in people and the good you shall find.    

Loving ourselves is hard too.  Sometimes we are paralyzed with guilt.  In that case, we need to forgive ourselves…. we need to give ourselves a break and allow ourselves the right to be human.  Sometimes instead we cover our guilt with pride and refuse to admit our own shortcomings.  In these times, we need to develop the ability to laugh at ourselves.  We need to be able to admit our mistakes with grace and earnestness. 

Then there is loving God.  When we’re not sure how to love others or ourselves, loving God seems like an unbearable task.  So, start small.  Start with believing.  Start with believing in something bigger than yourself….  start with recognizing that the universe is large, and significant, and beautiful.  Start with believing that beyond everything you have ever witnessed and everything before and after you, there is something holding it all together… something to have created it all.  Start where you are and explore, question, doubt, etc., until you find yourself to a place of genuine conviction and Truth.  Never stop asking questions or taking steps on the journey.

Finally, and perhaps most important of all, trust yourself.  Learn to drown out all of the outside noise and listen to your own inner voice… the voice that is telling you who to be.  At the end of the day, the only person you can control is you and the only person you have to live with is you.  Be somebody you can live with… be somebody worth emulating… be someday that you can be proud of.  Don’t sell yourself short, follow your heart, dream big dreams, touch souls.

When I was working as a chaplain intern someone told me that the five most important things for someone to say before they die are these:  Thank you.  Please forgive me.  I forgive you.  I love you.  Good-bye. 

Do these every day whenever appropriate to whomever is appropriate.

That’s it, that’s all I got. 

For those to whom I have not said it enough: thank you.  Thank you for inspiring me, for changing me, for loving me. 

Please forgive me for the times I have not lived up to your expectations of me, for the times I have let you down. 

I forgive you for the time times you as well have been less than you could be. 

I love you, truly and deeply. 

And finally, good-bye, not forever, but for now until God wills our next encounter. 

Boundaries

Last night I had a conversation on the phone with one of my dearest friends.  We’ve been friends for over two decades which is a long time for someone my age.. perhaps it’s a long time for someone of any age.  In a matter of seconds, our conversation went from a mere sharing of stories.. of catching up… to her crying and me feeling immensely helpless to comfort her. 

In simple, she was crying because sometimes rules don’t make sense, and life is unfair, and people fail to be compassionate or reasonable or open.  In detail, she was crying because in a few months she is to be married to a man who isn’t an American citizen and his mother was denied a visa to attend the wedding.  She was denied a visa because our government fears that after attending the wedding, she won’t return home.. that she will stay here unlawfully.  And so, a mother is denied the opportunity to witness her only son get married.

It is interesting to me how boundaries get drawn.  For instance, who was the first person to ever hold up a flag, draw a line, and say, “this is mine and you can’t come here without my permission.”  And after that, who was the first person to accept that as reasonable… to agree that one human person could claim territory and own territory and sell territory.  I’m not sure I understand how anyone has the right to limit which parts of this vast, beautiful, unique world, one can visit and explore and be in awe of. 

Of course as I write this, I am sitting in my parent’s backyard… I am at the house that we have owned since I was two years old.  I love my house and I am glad that it is “ours”.  I am happy to have my own bedroom, my own things, my own space.  It makes sense to me that this is the way the world works.

What doesn’t truly make sense to me is how the world got divided.. how the world got divided into lands that formed countries, citizens, rules and regulations about who could go here and who could live there and who was and wasn’t allowed to buy property or attend their son’s wedding.  I don’t understand when being right and having control began to take precedence over being compassionate, and sensible, and human.   

One of my favorite parts of the Bible is the first creation story in the first chapter of Genesis.  God reminds man and woman that they are to be stewards over creation; that they are to enjoy it and be fulfilled by it and watch over it.  God gave us all the world; what an amazing and inspiring gift.  Often I think we have taken that gift and we have gotten greedy with it.  We have forgotten that we didn’t earn any of it, that perhaps we don’t deserve any of it, that it was a gift.  Instead, we cling tightly to the piece that is ours and we spend countless time and money making sure that no one else has a share in it without our permission.

It reminds me of a story that one of my professors told me in college.  He was talking about the way they sometimes try to catch monkeys in places like Africa.  Supposedly, they cut an empty coconut in half and inside they place an orange, then they glue the coconut back together.  After doing so, they drill a small hole in the coconut, small enough for a monkey’s hand to fit in but too small for an orange to come out.  Then they wait.  Sure enough, sooner or later, a monkey will come, stick its hand in the hole, and attempt to retrieve the orange.  It will stay there stuck, unable to pull the orange out.  It will continue to stay there even after it sees its captors closing in.  Unwilling to merely “let go” and give up the orange, it will allow itself to be caught. 

I think that perhaps that is a good analogy for our society.  We have a difficult time “letting go”… we don’t want to let go of our possessions, our land, our borders, our right to have things the way we think is best.  And so, we hold on tight.  In the mean time, we get caught.  We fail to realize that in holding on too tightly to such things, we lose ourselves.  In such instances, we risk losing our integrity, our joy, our fulfillment, our gratitude, our humility, our humanity.   We risk forgetting that there is something larger and more important than us. 

In the end, my friend and her fiancée will probably just end up having yet another wedding.  All will be well and they will move on.  Nonetheless, it saddens me. 

It saddens me mostly because in the past year alone I have been blessed to travel to Spain, Haiti, and Guatemala… not for a wedding, but just because I could and because I wanted to.  In each of those places I found immense beauty, joy, and hope.  I am saddened because while I am confident that those things can be found in the United States too… I am afraid that so many people from across the globe may never be allowed to see it. 

Being a Teenager is Hard

This past weekend I went on a retreat with a group of 6-8th grade students. After a mere 12 hours with them, I came to this conclusion: being a teenager is hard.

Over the weekend I shared that conclusion with some adult leaders by saying, “my conversations last night reminded me how hard it is to be a young person.” Immediately a parent in the room responded something to the effect of, “Oh my, don’t you just wish they would understand that things will get better when they get to high-school”?

Upon deeper reflection, I’m not sure this is true.

The Middle School students I met were struggling with everything from deceased parents to parents with cancer to parents in the military or other life threatening professions. They were worried about brothers being sent to Afghanistan and friends doing drugs and having sex. Some of them had self-image issues, eating disorders, and patterns of cutting. They told tales of excruciating, scary, painful things. So, yes, hopefully, they will get better.

Yet again, last night after the retreat I met with some high-school students. In one, low-key, average evening, these young people expressed concerns about parents fighting and possible divorce, being betrayed by friends for seemingly no explanation, the pressures of being financially accountable to their family during these precarious economic times. One of them was having surgery this week; another absent in preparation for her grandfather’s funeral. More scary, difficult things.

This past year in the life of adults I know, there have personal trials such as stillbirths of children and cancer of parents. There has been the fear of foreclosure and the loss of jobs. There has been the despair of loved ones not loving you back. And collectively, there has been shootings, and suicides, and war, and famine, and intense political negativity.

I guess the point is this: things seem to be difficult all around. And, I’m not sure that they get better as we get older. We have a tendency to criticize our young people for being, “dramatic”. I wonder, however, if it’s less of that and more that as we get older we become more desensitized to suffering. Certainly with age comes perspective and strength and emotional maturity, but perhaps it also comes with a tinge of apathy… with a quiet surrender to things that maybe shouldn’t be accepted as normative quite so easily.

The things is, 13 year olds should be scared of brothers going off to war and friends drinking alcohol in Middle School. And our obligation as adults should not only be to comfort them and support them but also to ask important questions. Questions like: What am I as an adult doing to promote peace in the world so that young men and women have no need to go to war? And, what is happening in our society that it’s acceptable and normative for young people to start taking substances long before their brains have developed?

Rather than promising our young people that things will get better merely because we hope they well mature into an acceptance of such difficult life circumstances, I wonder what would happen if we promised our young people that things would get better because we were committed to making that true. Because we were committed to making things change.

I am under no illusion that life is easy. I know that there will always be death and disease and accidents and tragedies. And yet, I am fairly confident that it is harder to be a teenager now than it was when I was a teenager, ten years ago. And so, I feel obliged to ask: what can be done? How can we help?

How can we instill hope in our youth so that they can approach tomorrow with strength and confidence and a bit of joy?