As you may have surmised, I rather enjoy alliteration. Today’s title springs from a quote by Mark Twain I read recently, “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” After a recent encounter I feel compelled to touch on forgiveness yet again.
I unexpectedly and happily ran into a friend on Sunday. She was gardening in her front yard right next to where I dropped off my youngest daughter and unhesitatingly invited me in.
As usual we got right down to “brass tacks” by sharing recent milestones on what has turned out to be similar journeys. She spoke about trying to find out who she is after all these years as wife, mother and professional and expressed hope that she would, in fact, like that person when she found out!
This made me laugh out loud not only because of her honesty but because of the universality of the “condition” of many women in mid-life. She also talked about forgiveness, the desire to extend it to someone in her life and the struggle to do so. We talked about not being able to “will yourself” to forgive and the need for a certain heart readiness (as I would describe).
But after doing a bit of “research” I reconsidered this idea. Perhaps it IS a decision. Originating in the mind, which informs the heart and subsequently enriches the spirit.
I watched another TED Talk, this one delivered by two women who have forged an exceedingly unlikely friendship: Phyllis Rodriquez who lost her son in the World Trade Center attacks and Aicha el-Wafi whose son was convicted for his role in these attacks. As I watched these women hold hands on stage – one needing a transIator to understand the other as well as to speak to the audience – I was simply overcome.
Overcome by their connection with and compassion for one other. I wrote once that grief is the birthplace of compassion. It was never more evident than between these two women whose stories connected them as human beings and whose mother’s hearts quite literally cried out to each other.
Phyllis spoke about Aicha’s difficult life which consisted in part of a marriage at 14, loss of two children by the time she was 16 years old and the life imprisonment of her convicted son. Aicha now speaks on violence, terrorism as well as the dangers of being a child bride. She said she decided to tell her story because she wanted her suffering to be “something positive for all women.” This moved me as deeply as when Phyllis convincingly and tenderly offered about her friend, “Her suffering is equal to mine.”
Their suffering is beyond what I myself can imagine. As is that of the survivors of the Rwandan genocide. I read an article in the The New York Times Magazine entitled, “Portraits of Reconciliation” in remembrance of the horrors of 20 years ago. As could be expected, the photographs told the story more powerfully than did the words.
In each picture is a male Hutu perpetrator and a female Tutsi survivor of his crime. Each one displayed varying degrees of forgiveness for the unthinkable – looting and burning of these women’s homes and the killing of their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands and children.
A woman named Beatrice reflected on her pardon of Laurent in this way, “If I am not stubborn, life moves forward. When someone comes close to you without hatred, although horrible things happened, you welcome him and grant what he is looking for from you. Forgiveness equals mercy.”
This reflects a truth shared by my friend on Sunday that forgiveness changes you more than the other person – perhaps not unlike the notion that prayer changes us more than it changes God. Author Frederick Buechner writes, “When you forgive somebody who has wronged you, you’re spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.” Ironically, pride seems to be the biggest impediment to forgiveness in the first place! CS Lewis describes pride as the “chief cause of misery.” And what a stronghold it can be.
Is pride in the way of your forgiving someone? If so, consider Phyllis’s forgiveness of Aicha and Beatrice’s of Laurent. Consider the fragrance of the violet on the heel that has crushed it. The person you may need to forgive may not be alive. That person may even be…yourself.
Nevertheless, you will likely not be able to forget but you can forgive, and if you do – as I just read this morning – it will not “change the past” but will “enlarge the future.” You may just need help from the One who first forgave you.
Forgiving someone else may be one of the most life-giving things you ever do.
And the person who receives life will be you.
– Caroline Watkins
