We sat in that room of college students, professors, and odds and ends of other kinds of people that turned up. As the lecturer exhorted us on the importance of showing kindness, of forgiving, of the pain and suffering caused to oneself by bitterness and anger, I thought of how counter-cultural his message was. Behind me sat a sweet former student from the urban high school where I had taught. Forgiveness and kindness there?--perceived as weakness. The people who sat around me...how many carried seething bitterness and disdain or simple coldness towards parents, exes, colleagues and bosses? Later I also thought of how not long before, the same auditorium was the site of the "slut talks" addressing sexual violence against women. I wasn't there, but I bet forgiveness and kindness towards those who have raped and abused women wasn't one of the advocated responses.
Driving home, the centrality of forgiveness to the gospel hit me with new force. Of course God requires us to forgive--forgiveness is in a way the central point of Christianity. The brutal and wonderful and awe-ful fact is that none of us get what we deserve. This is one of the things that sets Christianity apart from every other religion. Christ didn't get what He deserved. The man that Joseph Sebarenzi forgave didn't get what he deserved. You don't get what you deserve. I don't get what I deserve. Of course we must pass along the air we breathe, the food we eat. There is no other way.
Forgiveness is completely unfair. So is grace. The man carrying guilt for the death of Mr. Sebarenzi's family has a hand held out to him with compassion and the means relief from some of his sufferings. The opportunity to reconcile a relationship that has left me stung by guilt is brought literally right in front of me. The disciples have their filthy feet washed by their tired Master. We don't get what we deserve and we receive what we do not deserve. I think that if we really truly got this idea through our thick heads it would make a drastic difference in the way that we related to God, to ourselves, and to others. Isn't this the whole story of the prodigal son(s)? The younger son thinking he has lost his sonship by his behavior. The older son thinking he has earned his sonship by his behavior. When the whole point is that relationship is not earned--or dependent on--behavior. Not now. Not then. Not ever. I think that if I grasped this I would cease to be so hard on myself. Upon discovering yet another ugly frailty in my life, instead of having an identity crisis I would go quickly to my Daddy for help. Upon seeing the faults of others, I would neither judge nor excuse but reach down lovingly to help with one hand and point to the cross with the other. I would not allow the awareness of my smallness and inadequacy absorb me but come humbly, hungrily, and hopefully to the presence of God.
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| "Stift Heiligenkreuz - Kreuzgang Fußwaschung" by Wolfgang Sauber - Own work. Wikimedia Commons. |
Gerald Sittser lost his wife, mother-in-law, and one of his daughters in a tragic car accident caused by a drunk driver. He went on to write a book on grief called A Grace Disguised. He says...
"The problem of expecting to live in a perfectly fair world is that there is no grace in that world, for grace is grace only when it is undeserved...So, God spare us a life of fairness! To live in a world with grace is far better than to live in a world of absolute fairness. A fair world may make life nice for us, but only as nice as we are. We may get what we deserve, but I wonder how much that is and whether or not we would really be satisfied. A world with grace will give us more than we deserve. It will give us life, even in our suffering."
--Gerald L. Sittser, A Grace Disguised
