Forgiveness

Forgiveness: A Second Step Toward a Desire to Embrace an Enemy

(Matthew 6.9,12; Psalm 35.1-6, 11-12, 17, 22-23, 27-38; “The Hills of Ayalon”, Words & Music by Fred Small)
A message by Dave Shull
Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ
Sammamish, WA
The 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time: October 9, 2011

The third in a series of messages that address the question, How does what Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount call us to walk in the way of the Living Christ?

This fall, what I’m talking about in these messages focuses on one question: How does what Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount call us to walk in the way of the Living Christ?

Two weeks ago, I said that if we want to be a people who follow Jesus, then we have to open ourselves to do what seems both impossible and outrageous. We have to open ourselves to have a desire to embrace those who have hurt us. Even those who have hurt us deeply.

Last week, I focused on the first of four steps we can take to might take help us do that. The step of repentance. I said repentance isn’t just saying, Sorry, I’ll try to do better next time. Instead, when I repent for not showing love, I promise to turn around and walk on a better road. To repent means to admit only God and my faith community can help me turn away from the road that harms myself and others. And walk a better road. Of compassion and justice.

Today I’d like to focus on a second step that can move us closer to embracing our enemies. That step is forgiveness.

There are lots of things any of us could say about forgiveness. This morning, I’m going to talk about why Christians have to do it, and why it’s so hard. And I’m going to look at the very odd, creative way the Bible tells us to do it.

When we choose to forgive, what are we “doing”? When we choose to forgive, we stop hoping the past is going to be different. We stop resenting what has happened, and instead make peace with it. Even if there are parts of our past that we hate. When we choose to forgive, we confess that we’ve allowed the hurt others have caused us to fill us with hatred, hurt, and the desire for revenge. When we choose to forgive, we confess the ways we’ve allowed these feelings to poison us. And to see those who hurt us as less than human.

When we choose to forgive, we take a step closer to having a desire to embrace one who has hurt us deeply.

I don’t forgive very well. I hold on to resentments toward others. And I have trouble forgiving myself. I hold on to regret. I keep replaying ways I’ve messed up and how I wished I’d done things differently. I know I have trouble truly forgiving. And I haven’t experienced anything like the kinds of violation and betrayal so many people have. This week, Leymah Gbowee won the Nobel Peace Prize. Ms. Gbowee stood in front of militias and warlords in Liberia and to demand that they stop using rape as a weapon. I cannot imagine how the women she works with come to a place of forgiving those who have brutalized them. Or how I would talk with them about forgiveness not being optional for Christians.

Because Jesus is so clear about that. It’s because Jesus knew what Roman Catholic priest Richard Rohr has recently reminded us of. Rohr says, “Everything that isn’t transformed is transferred.” When wounds go unhealed, we raise our kids with the hatred we feel. When they breathe the air, they inhale hate. When they drink the water, they ingest our desire for revenge. When we refuse to forgive, our kids learn the way they show their love and loyalty to us is by hating the people we hate.

Jesus calls his followers to stop passing on our the poison we feel. Though we use different words, every week in worship Christians around the world pray the same thing:

“Abba in heaven, Holy is your name …. Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us” (Matthew 6.9,12).

Whether we realize it or not, when we pray these words, we’re asking God to forgive us in the same way we forgive those who have hurt us. If I refuse to forgive, then I’m asking God to refuse to forgive me.

So for Christians forgiveness is not optional. It’s hard enough when individuals hurt individuals. But what happens when we’re wounded by groups. Like a family. Or a church. Or an army. Or an ethnic group. Or a nation?

I have a song I’d like you to listen to. Some of the words are words young Israelis and Arabs have said to each other. Their words show the how adults pass the poison on to young people. And how young people can and do choose not to act on it. But to imagine walking the better road of forgiveness.

“In the Hills of Ayalon”
(Words & Music by Fred Small)

In Israel there is a settlement, called in Hebrew Neve Shalom, and in Arabic, Wahai Al-Salam. Here, Jews and Arabs live and work together, and lead workshops. At these workshops, Arab and Jewish young people can learn more about each other.

This song is based on an actual dialog at one of those workshops.

In the hills of Ayalon above the broken earth
two boys shout and play with a ball on a field of shrub and dirt.
Divided sons of Abraham exhausted embrace –
Prince of Islam, Pride of Judah know each other’s face.

“If we met on the sands of Sinai under a molten sky,
and if you held me in your sights and looked me in the eye, what would you do?”
“If we met on the sands of Sinai under a molten sky,
and if I held you in my sights and looked you in the eye,
I would shoot you dead.”

In the hills of Ayalon that once were no man’s land,
shepherds chase their wandering sheep and lead them home again.
“My grandfather died at Dachau. Never will I forget.”
“The British set fire to my grandfather’s village, left 12 Moslem dead.”
“If we met on the cliffs of Haramoun stunned by the rocket’s flash,
and if you found my heart exposed and a pistol in your grasp, what would you do?”
“If we met on the cliffs of Haramoun stunned by the rocket’s flash,
and if I found your heart exposed and a pistol in my grasp,
I would take you prisoner, hide you away, then set you free.”

In the hills of Ayalon, the young ones play a game:
toss an orange in the air and call each other’s name.
Ricky, Shimon, Shalom, Naomi – catch it before it falls!
Youssef, Hassan, Amal, Amira – tear down the wall…
“If we met by the River Jordan, under a rain of nails,
and if you raised your rifle up, and your aim could not fail, what would you do?”
“If we met by the River Jordan, under a rain of nails,
and if I raised my rifle up, and my aim could not fail,
I would put down my gun, open my arms, and weep.”
(© 1988 Fred Small/Pine Barrens Music)

What can free us from the human desire to hurt people who’ve hurt us? Or the desire forever to define ourselves as victim? Or the desire to refuse to imagine a new kind of relationship with them is possible? Our Jewish sisters and brothers offer an odd, creative step toward forgiveness. It has the power to free us. And it would make our worship services a lot less tame and polite.

Listen for a word from God.

1-3 Harass these hecklers, God, punch these bullies in the nose.
Grab a weapon, anything at hand; stand up for me!
Get ready to throw the spear, aim the javelin, at the people who are out to get me.
Reassure me; let me hear you say, "I'll save you."
4-6 When those thugs try to knife me in the back, make them look foolish.
Frustrate all those who are plotting my downfall.
Make them like cinders in a high wind, with God's angel working the bellows.
Make their road lightless and mud-slick, with God's angel on their tails….
11-12 Hostile accusers appear out of nowhere, they stand up and badger me.
They pay me back misery for mercy, leaving my soul empty….
17 God, how long are you going to stand there doing nothing?...
Save me from their brutalities; everything I've got is being thrown to the lions…
22 Don't you see what they're doing, God?
You're not going to let them get by with it, are you?
Not going to walk off without doing something, are you?

23 Please get up—wake up! Tend to my case.
My God, my Lord—my life is on the line….
27-28 Those who want the best for me,
let them have the last word—a glad shout!—
and say, over and over, “God is great—
everything works together for good for God’s servant."
I'll tell the world how great and good you are,
I'll shout Hallelujah all day, every day
(Psalm 35.1-6, 11-12, 17, 22-23, 27-38, The Message ReMix © 2003 Eugene Peterson).

I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t sound like any prayer request I’ve ever made. It doesn’t even sound like a prayer I’d in the privacy of our home. But our Jewish sisters and brothers knew prayers like this can drain us of the poison … and open us to forgive. This prayer is in our collection of sacred stories. So prayers like this are our sacred stories. The person praying this prayer knows God’s command: You shall love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19.18). So when he is willing to pray like this, he’s saying to God, If you expect me to hold back when all I want to do is make them hurt the way they’ve hurt me, then you have to show me you’re willing to do something. I need to trust that you are a God of justice. I need to know they’re going to pay for what they did. So they don’t get away with hurting me and hurting others If I’m not going to act on the hate, hurt, and desire for revenge I feel, then you, God, need to make things right. So I can trust justice and love will triumph in the end.

When we hand God the poison, when we are willing to ask the people in our faith community to help carry the poison, then we can start to walk a better road. Giving God the poison, asking God to punish those who have hurt us so we don’t feel like we have to, puts us on that better road. It brings us to a better place where, one day, we can truly forgive.

On that day, we will be free.

Amen.