I have thought about forgiveness and have written about it in earlier inspirational reflections. But with a topic this big, it is not unusual to come at it with a different angle or to have new experiences that give you a fresh perspective. In my case I have just read the short piece on forgiveness in poet, David Whyte’s book, Consolations. Whyte chooses a number of ordinary words and offers very trenchant reflections and amazing insights. The book has become a goldmine of ideas, challenges and encouragement.
Whyte almost always comes up with an angle to a word which I had never considered. That opens up meanings that are fresh and helpful. He usually captures my attention with his first line of comment on a word. For example, here is his opening line for his dinky chapter on forgiveness. “Forgiveness is a heartache and difficult to achieve because strangely, it not only refuses to eliminate the original wound, but actually draws us closer to its source.” (67) Most of us want to get over or beyond that which wounded us and Whyte wants us to be drawn closer to the source of the wound!
His second sentence introduces a key idea I would like to give some focus. He says, “To approach forgiveness is to close in on the nature of the hurt itself, the only remedy being, as we approach its raw center, to reimagine our relationship to it.” The fresh insight for me in this passage is the idea of reimagining our relationship to the hurt itself. As I indicated, most of us want to get over or beyond the hurt. But Whyte suggests we make progress when we reimagine our relationship to the hurt. I think what he is saying is we will come out of being hurt and forgiving with a new sense of ourselves.
At one level, this is a bit disappointing, because for normal humans, our first instinct is not even to forgive; it is to retaliate---hurt back. But most of us don’t respond to this initial impulse. In our sane moments we know that never solves anything. Even though it might momentarily feel good, it comes to no good end. I think Whyte offers a more creative way to go.
The question is how can we reimagine our relationship to the wound? Whyte provides the first clue when he says, “It may be that the part of us that was struck and hurt can never forgive, and that strangely, forgiveness never arises from the part of us that was actually wounded.” This suggests to me forgiveness is bigger than the hurt or wound itself. Retaliation stays at the same level as the initial hurt---or even, worse.
Whyte’s creative move is to suggest that “after all, the identity of the one who must forgive is actually founded on the very fact of having been wounded.” As I ponder this thought from Whyte, I realize he has introduced another key feature into the equation, namely, the idea of our identity. I also realize if we have been wounded, the wound defines in part our identity: it describes some of who I am, what I feel and think. Typically, it is not an identity we want. And we normally have some anger attached to that identity. As long as we have not forgiven, that is our identity and we get the anger along with it. In my sane moments I realize no growth can come to anyone in this state of affairs. Growth only becomes possible through forgiveness.
If I am understanding Whyte, this is where he wants us to go in our interpretation of his thoughts. Listen to his words to this point. “To forgive is to assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt, to mature and bring to fruition an identity that can put its arm, not only around the afflicted one within but also around the memories seared within us by the original blow and through a kind of psychological virtuosity, extend our understanding to the one who first delivered it.” (68) Though a long sentence, it is amazingly insightful.
I like the idea that forgiveness gives us the chance for “a larger identity.” With forgiveness we become bigger people than if we don’t forgive. If we choose to remain the person who was wounded, we choose a kind of stuckness that is detrimental to our own spiritual and psychological growth. Rather through forgiveness we opt for maturing---becoming bigger and better people. We can bring to fruition a bigger identity---becoming bigger people.
As a bigger person, I can put my arm around the “me” that was hurt. Not only this, I can also put my arm around the hurt itself. Ultimately, this will be a healing action. In the words of my own recent book, “I become better, not bitter.” But this is not all. Amazingly as a bigger person, I can even put my arms around the one who hurt me.
In a way the story of forgiveness is always a story of redemption. Forgiveness redeems the person who was hurt and liberates the person to become better, more mature and more spiritual. Forgiveness even has the opportunity to redeem the person who did the hurting. That person becomes free from the sting of causing harm---whether intentionally or unintentionally.
I appreciate Whyte’s invitation to have new thoughts on forgiveness.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. ...
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