I was asked to lead the prayers of the people for today’s church service, and warned that the sermon would be on forgiveness, specifically: forgiving ourselves in the midst of our forgiving of others.
I think forgiveness is like a muscle that atrophies if we don’t use it. But like a lot of workout sessions it’s hard to see much progress. So, we must forgive, but we have to trust that saying “I forgive you” is doing something, and we must continue doing it to keep proper form. It’s easiest to not forgive yourself, I think, because there’s a kind of false nobility at play. “I’ll never forgive myself for that” we think as we crack the whip on our striving, straining souls, as if remembering the pain we’ve caused will somehow make us harder workers at our own goodness. This is shame at work, and we loosen shame’s hold with self-forgiveness.
Junior recently had another episode of hitting, and the next day found his victim and delivered a very clear “Ms – , I’m sorry I hit you in the face.” He was the picture of contrition, downcast eyes, no prompting from me. She was kind and matter of fact: “Apology accepted.” But I wished she had said, “I forgive you.” It just feels more complete. More than that, though, I wish my son would stop hitting adults in the face. I suppose we can’t have it all, even during Lent.
The prayer, then, that I wrote for the practice of forgiveness this morning, or as best I can remember it because I ad libbed the first section since our family was running so late that I almost missed the start of the service, which was my main job as liturgist; sigh:
We practice the forgiveness of others. We practice the forgiveness of ourselves.
To our parents:
any time they did not meet our needs
who, in the throes of their own life problems, struggled to truly see us
or who were physically absent or never known at all
yet who did the best they could
I forgive you. I forgive myself.To those in authority, civic or spiritual:
whether too harsh or too permissive
who failed to protect
who abused their power
or who were simply too lazy to do their jobs
I forgive you. I forgive myself.To our partners:
in business, in love and in life
for all that has gone wrong
for any broken dreams
for expectations unfulfilled
I forgive you. I forgive myself.To our loving creator:
who sometimes seems responsible for all that has gone wrong
for the times it has felt that he forgot to save us
for the silent years
for the valley of the shadow
I forgive you. I forgive myself.
Post #5 of 40 Daze: A Lenten Writing Practice.
