Is it difficult for you to forgive? To let the past be past? It is for me. Nearly impossible sometimes. I’m a little like the elderly Virginian woman who lived to see her beloved Richmond occupied by Union troops after the American Civil War. The matron was walking down a Richmond street when she tripped over a step and fell. A Union soldier courteously helped her up.
“How very kind of you, young man,” she said acidly. “If there is a cool spot in hell, I hope you get it.” (Ouch.)
Maybe it was still a bit early for her to let go of those deep-seated resentments. But angry and bitter lives are never the goal.
A beautiful legend tells of an African tribe that ritualizes forgiveness. When a tribe member acts irresponsibly or unjustly, the offender is taken to the center of the village. All work ceases and every man, woman and child in the village gathers in a large circle around the accused. Then the tribe bombards the rejected person with affirmations! One at a time, friends and family enumerate all the good the individual has done. Every incident, every experience that can be recalled with some detail and accuracy is recounted. All their positive attributes, strengths and kindnesses are recited carefully and at length. Finally, the tribal circle is broken, a joyous celebration takes place, and the outcast is welcomed back into the tribe.
What a beautiful ritual of restoration. They replace hurt with happiness; pain with peace. Once again they are family. The rejected one is restored and the village is made whole.
Paul Boese has said, “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.” As brothers and sisters in our global village, is letting go of those resentments really an option?
-- Steve Goodier
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Do you know who the hardest person to love is?
The name "Benedict Arnold" is synonymous with "traitor." But he was actually a loyal citizen of what was to become the United States, a gallant soldier and a five-star general. Wounded twice in battle, he was highly respected for his military leadership. He even enjoyed the friendship of George Washington.
Arnold never thought he received the recognition he deserved. During the American Revolutionary War, he saw five subordinates promoted over him, and the blow to his esteem was more than he could manage. The injury to his pride was far greater than those physical injuries he sustained in battle. So he laid plans for revenge.
In 1780, he attempted to betray vital West Point to the British. He later moved to England and was paid a sum of money to compensate for his property loss, but he was never fully accepted in British society. He eventually returned to trading and died a mostly unsuccessful and unhappy man.
Mary Kay Ash (of Mary Kay Cosmetics) said, “There are two things people want more than sex and money -- praise and recognition.” Benedict Arnold is an unfortunate example.
Interestingly, do you know who is the most difficult person to love? It is easy to love friends and not too difficult to love those less fortunate than ourselves. It certainly isn't easy loving enemies, but sometimes the person most difficult to love is the one who is MORE fortunate than we are. The one who receives the promotion we deserved. The one who gets the recognition we desired, the honor we sought or the affections of the lover we had hoped to win. It is easy to resent those who seem to be more fortunate – those who “get all the breaks.”
But as one person said to me, "Let go or get dragged. Unless you let things go, you should be prepared to have that thing drag you around until you have to let it go."
Jealousy? Let go or get dragged.
A desperate need to be appreciated or loved? Let go or get dragged.
A need for recognition that simply isn't coming? Let go or get dragged.
A desire to get credit for your hard work – credit that is going to someone else? Let go or get dragged.
We've all felt these things. And if we want to move beyond them in a healthy way, the answer is to let go or get dragged.
Besides, if you ever want to grab onto something good, you'll need a free hand.
-- Steve Goodier
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Do you remember the Eagle's song “Hole in the World”? It begins like this:
There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
[Music and lyrics by Don Henley and Glenn Frey]
I am an optimist and constantly look for the best. But it does seem, at least at times, that there is a hole in the world.
We live in a day of almost unrestrained violence. Children can be snatched from homes and slain at school. Bombs and missiles are exploded in public places. There is war and there are rumors of war. No community, no race, no nation is immune to nor protected from a growing culture of violence. It's as if there is a hole in the world. Now, more than ever, we need to learn a different way, for the path we're following leads to a dark and dangerous wilderness.
I like the way of Azim Khamisa and Ples Felix, two men who experienced first hand a cloud of fear and sorrow. One deadly evening in 1995, 14-year-old Tony Hicks shot and killed a 20-year-old college student and pizza deliveryman in San Diego, California. Tony and several other gang members ordered pizza and, when it was delivered, Tony was told by his gang to shoot the young man who delivered the food, Tariq Khamisa.
Tariq's father Azim was enraged at the senseless killing. "There's something really wrong with a society where kids kill kids," he spat. He was angry with the kids, but he was even more upset with a culture that breeds so much violence.
Shortly after his son's death, Azim heard from a gentleman named Ples Felix. Ples was Tony Hick's grandfather and guardian. Azim invited Ples to his home and the two men shared their mutual grief and heartache. But it didn't stop there -- they also decided to do something. "I realized that change had to start with me," Azim reasoned. Therefore, though he may have wanted revenge, the grieving father chose a different way to respond to his son's death.
What happened? The victim's father toured the United States with the killer's grandfather. The two men visited schools with a message of nonviolence. They told the story of Tariq and Tony -- one child dead and the other in prison. And in a growing worldwide culture of violence, these two men of peace changed lives. They warmed hearts and stimulated minds of countless young people. They showed us all there is a different way to live.
David Orr, college professor and author, talks about this different way of living. “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people,” he says. “But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places.”
I like that...the world needs “people who live well in their places.” People like Azim Khamisa and Ples Felix.
I want to be one of those people. So I will choose a different way. I will choose to be a peacemaker, a healer and a life-bringer. To the best of my ability, I will try to live well in my place.
Because I believe there does not have to be a hole in the world tomorrow.
-- Steve Goodier
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Do you remember the famous feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys? A squabble started between these families in the states of Kentucky and West Virginia during the American Civil War. After the war, the feud was kept alive by disputes over a fiddle worth $1.75 and a stray razorback hog.
According to Stan Mooneyham, "Dancing on The Strait & Narrow," by Election Day 1882 the situation deteriorated to the point that three McCoy brothers killed Ellison Hatfield because he had insulted them. "Devil Anse," head of the Hatfield clan, had the three McCoys rounded up and tied to bushes within sight of their family cabin; then he put fifty rifle bullets into them. After that it was a life for a life -- sometimes two or three -- and even the women became just part of the body count. Hostilities didn't finally abate until the second decade of the twentieth century. The cost to those two families was immense. Almost thirty deaths were recorded in the most famous example of eye-for-an-eye revenge in U.S. history.
You've seen this scene in the movies: a rugged cowboy pats his pearl-handled six-shooter in a holster hanging from his hip and drawls, "This here is my peacemaker." Peacemaker? Maybe widow-maker. Or orphan-maker. The problem is, shooting people is not a good way to peace. It’s a little like the father who, while spanking his child, said, almost in cadence with each slap, "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO HIT YOUR SISTER!" Gotta love the irony.
If force and violence can’t bring peace out of chaos, what can? What does it take to make peace? And to keep it?
The answer is clear. Peacemakers are not weapons -- peacemakers are people. You and I. Peacemakers are people with hearts for reconciliation and understanding. In our families; with our neighbors; around the world.
Level-headed and patient people have always been the best hope for a lasting and just peace. That is the only way it has ever worked.
Perhaps that’s why peacemakers are called blessed.
-- Steve Goodier
File this story under the heading: "If life were not so bitter, revenge would not be sweet."
After seventeen years of marriage, a man dumped his wife for a younger woman. The downtown luxury apartment was in his name and he wanted to remain there with his new love, so he asked his wife to move out and said he would buy her another place. The wife agreed to this, but asked that she be given three days.
The first day she packed her personal belongings into boxes and crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their candlelit dining table, soft music playing in the background, and feasted alone on shrimp and a bottle of Chardonnay.
When she had finished, she went into each room and deposited shrimp leftovers into the hollow of her curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
Her husband returned with his new girl, and all was bliss for the first few days. Then it started; slowly but surely. Clueless, the man could not explain why the place smelled as it did.
They tried everything. First they cleaned and mopped and aired the place out. That didn't work. Then they checked vents for dead rodents. Still no luck. They steam cleaned the carpets and hung air fresheners. That didn't solve the problem. They hired exterminators; still no good. They ripped out the carpets and replaced them. But the smell lingered.
Finally, they could take it no more and decided to move. The moving company packed everything and moved it all to their new place. Everything. Even the curtain rods.
I like the story because of the humor. But revenge is always a poor option if we want to be healthy and happy.
The problem is... we can't carry a grudge and carry love in our hearts at the same time. We have to give one of them up. It's a choice we make.
Some resentments are large; they've built up over a long time and will not be easy to part with. Some have been fed by years of pain and anger. But all the more reason to give them up.
When we're tired of the anger and resentment and bitterness, we can choose a better way. We can be forever unhappy, or we can be healthy. We're just not made to carry a big grudge and a heart filled with love at the same time.
But I still chuckle at the story.
-- Steve Goodier
Image: flickr.com/Quinn Dombrowski
