On the Overwhelming Power of Forgiveness

Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. (Lk. 6:37)

He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies. (Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Absolutely nothing will help us if we are not lenient toward the weaknesses of men and forgive them. For how can we hope that God will forgive us if we do not forgive others? (St. Nikolai Velimirovich)

When we are able to see the suffering in him or her, and see that that person is a victim of his own suffering, then it's easy to forgive. Recognize the suffering. Understand the suffering. And by having the desire to help that person to suffer less, you will be able to forgive very easily. (Thich Nhat Hanh)

To forgive, to truly forgive, to wipe the slate completely clean, is beyond the capacity of most of us, if only because we are creatures made of memory. From this arises an old, oft-repeated truth: I can forgive, but I cannot forget. And yet, we do surely try. On those occasions when we might succeed, there is a joy that settles upon the heart, a peacefulness, something not easily described. Call it a lightness of being, or even an acceptance of the foibles of the human condition to which we are all subject. When I look back on my own life, I find that some of my deepest joys and my most enduring hurts have to do, above all, with the asking or the giving of forgiveness. We often read that asking for forgiveness is harder than offering it. I have found, however, that both of these life-changing charisms are equal in measure, though each demands a different kind of humbleness.

To ask the other for forgiveness is harder in the first instance because it will normally mean that we must make the first move, and so we put ourselves in an extremely vulnerable position. If this action of opening our heart to another is rejected it can deliver a mental pain to rival, or in fact be worse, than a suffering we might feel in the flesh. Particularly when the rejection comes from someone we have loved. And often in the cruellest form of all: silence. Such an experience can unleash a devastating range of emotions, from a sense of worthlessness to having one’s integrity and intentions called into question. How, then, does one respond to such a brutal rejection? The pain if it be possible is compounded, if we should happen to hold a theology that will see in the other the very Image and Likeness of God.

There is, needless to say, no simple answer but only what our own hearts reveal to us. One thing we must not do is allow another, whose heart does not wish to embrace ours, to extinguish our spirit. Our souls are far greater and infinitely richer in their potential than any hard rejection we might face. To dwell on this truth alone is to make room for divine providence to take its course. At the same time, we can never know what tomorrow may bring, even the joyous possibility of reconciliation. Compassion never ceases to amaze, for even the greatest of enemies have, in many instances, found their way back to each other. What has brought me comfort is carrying the other’s name into prayer. Admittedly, after a strong struggle, that name grows sweet, until the pain itself is almost forgotten. There is a mistake many of us have made, and it is a compulsion that given our angst is not difficult to fall into. We try to get the other to bend their compassion towards us by hammering repeatedly on their door when they have made it clear they have shut us out. By continuing to ‘knock’ we not only do an additional harm to ourselves but also to the other whose time has not yet come. It pulls us further into our own despair, and it hardens the heart of the other. Let us make our peace with a sincere and genuine spirit and then turn towards the souls who love us and see in us not only our heaven-sent gifts, but also that which is common to us all, our brokenness and need for acceptance.

Now we come, let us say, to the flip side of the coin. And for a large number, this has proven the more difficult, if only because once we forgive, the memory of the injustice committed against us remains. Once more, in such matters, we can only speak from experience and learn best we can from the wisdom writings of those who have gone before us. To forgive demands the giving of the benefit of the doubt for a trust has normally been broken, but also the practice of other-compassion and an outpouring of love. This forgiveness is rarely easy when we are young. Early in life, lacking a broader existential perspective, we tend to see the world in stark polarities. We have not yet come to a nuanced understanding of the complexities and contradictions of the human condition. Concepts such as loyalty and betrayal, yes, undeniably important, assume almost mythical proportions when life is viewed through a murky lens.

https://pixabay.com/es/photos/par-rosa-flores-amor-rosas-boda-3640166/

As we grow into our middle and later seasons of life, a precious awakening occurs, like the shock at suddenly seeing the iridescent shine on a drake’s head or the exhilaration of being introduced to Bruckner’s symphonies for the first time. We come to the self-realisation that we, too, have missed the mark. Jung would speak in terms of “individuation” and of coming face-to-face with our shadow. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Looking at the accusers who brought the woman caught in adultery before Him, the God-Man responds: “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her” (Jn. 8:7). And who amongst us would claim to have never been a prodigal or has not considered pulling the arm back before casting the stone? Not only in biblical but also in those inspirational Levinasian terms, the “Other” is my salvation and not my hell. We are all of us, boats in the ocean, with rust and brine on the waterline.

Put in more earthly language, none of us is perfect. Though we might sometimes dare to convince ourselves that we are at least a little more perfect than the other. And who has not? So, then, forgiving the other for misdemeanours that we ourselves could be guilty of, is not as impossible as it once could have been. In this way, too, bringing the other to prayer, and allowing time to do its work, can become a great liberation for the soul. This is not to idealise forgiveness nor to trivialise the hurt that has been done; to forgive a grievous wrong demands an act of moral courage. Yet, in that one act alone, power is paradoxically restored to the one who forgives. This is the charism of the transformative power of love, for it endures, it does not fracture nor can it be broken, like a young oak tree that grows to become “windproof” as it matures. By far there are more gentle and compassionate people in the world than those who would will us harm. Let us allow for the possibility that we are acting in good faith.

Forgiveness is not a question of prescribed rubrics, in either its asking or its giving. It remains a profoundly personal act. Nor is it always a decision of a single moment. In any case, it cannot be hurried, especially when deep trauma is involved. Boundaries may need to be initially set. There is no “one size fits all” formula, any more than there is a single eye colour. What remains essential, if forgiveness is what we seek, is prayer, patience, and the belief that the potential for the redirection of another soul is rarely absolutely lost. Over time, forgiveness draws us further into those tremendous realms of self-sacrificial love revealed by Christ on the Cross, who forgives even as He is being executed (Lk. 23:34). From this mystical place, the thinnest divide between divine and human, the greatest graces and mysteries will flow. 

Finally, if I may add a personal reflection drawn from my own experience and from listening to others during my earlier vocation as a spiritual advisor. Asking for forgiveness liberates the soul from its guilt and resentment, and allows for the heart to be loved again. As much as we need creativity to survive, we also need to practise forgiveness so that we may live our humanness to its fullest expression. And for those who are able to forgive, this one act of grace alone, renouncing the claim that they once held over the other, can reverberate across generations. It can even save a brother or sister from death, for we know there are many ways in which one can die. It will foster beautiful friendships, or completely destroy them should we hold on to the bitterness. Rocks can crack bit by bit to then fall apart under the stress weathering of the sun. And such is the power granted to us from our Maker (or, indeed from the Universe) that with a single word—yes— (or, no) we can alter the direction of the future. The temptation is to forgive yet still deny access to those we have forgiven. For those of us who are members of the community of believers, we are asked to discern what it means that God Himself remains forever open to the cry of our lament and requests for mercy.

Eric Arthur Blair aka 'George Orwell'

26th May, 2011 [date of the original draft]

Sydney, Kingsgrove

I have just finished reading a selection of George Orwell’s letters and was deeply moved by his acute anxiety to protect his adopted young son, Richard, from any potential infection of the tuberculosis which was killing the famous author and essayist.[1] Orwell’s love and concern for the boy was particularly evident and tender-hearted when he was lying on his death bed at UCH in London (University College Hospital) and painfully desperate to embrace the little boy but having to push him away. He was “absolutely devoted” to his son.[2] Writers, too, like all other artists, are more than the iconic works with which they are normally identified.

For most people George Orwell will forever be connected to those classic socio-political critiques of the ‘engineered’ trajectory towards ideological monoliths and totalitarianism, Animal Farm (1945) and 1984 (1949).[3] This is unfortunate for a number of reasons. To begin with Orwell was a prolific writer and an amazingly generous correspondent, and this despite his persistent and ultimately fatal joust with TB at the age of forty-six (though given the viciousness of his disease he invariably appears much older in photographs). Towards the end of his life writing became an increasingly difficult task and the use of heavy and unreliable typewriters for a bed-ridden man made the task even more onerous. Both of the novels for which he is chiefly famous for were written towards the end of his life, 1984 was his last major literary undertaking.[4] There is then, and despite his early death, a voluminous amount of material which serves as a backdrop to these two books. To study these novels (given the special subject matter) outside Orwell’s political and social inheritance is to fall into the trap of caricaturing or misinterpreting his philosophical thought. This no less given the confusion of his position on socialism and communism and the evident distinctions he wants to make between the two, but then also with his interpretation of the unique brand of British socialism itself.[5] In the excellent introduction to his correspondence, Peter Davison pinpoints the reason why we find a none too small collection of inconsistencies to do with Orwell. Notwithstanding his own political ambivalences there are those who without reasonable knowledge of his life quote him in catchphrases which only adds to these ‘misinterpretations’:

“…many of those who refer to Orwell seem not to have read much more than Animal Farm and Nineteen-Eighty-Four, if those. The millions who have heard of Big Brother and Room 101 know nothing of their progenitor. Ignorance of Orwell is also to be found in academic circles…”[6]

This would account for some of the political contradictions and his ‘contrariness’ which Orwellian students will invariably point to.[7] It does play an important part of how we are to receive and understand these books together with the socio-political conditions, ideologies, laws and practises he wants to anatomize and to critique. It is tempting for some to put aside the actual life of the author, particularly given the cinematic translation of the works, and to miss the message altogether: that George Orwell’s stories have more to do with the ‘human condition’ as a universal experience over any political or geographical borders. And so, we can with confidence in our own times, consider how he would have ‘reviewed’ liberal democracies bent on panoptic surveillance and the resultant erosion of our private space. This is a vital point which also permits for the broader context of his work to remain both inventive and relevant as a diachronic critique as to how civil societies “form” and “change”. Particularly in the sphere of social theory, and especially with readings connected to conflict perspective. The same we could write for example of Yevgeny Zamyatin, Aldous Huxley, and Margaret Atwood. Even the same let’s say for the religious ‘eschatologist’ Seraphim Rose. The famous story which underpins 1984 itself, is only ever incidental to the greater truths of what man [ideally] is rather than what man can [potentially] become, which Orwell subtly yet effectively communicates:

“Being in a minority, even in a minority of one, did not make you mad. There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.” (1984)

“If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.” (1984)

There is also the graphic and unforgettable warning of what we are ‘politically’ capable of [in Aristotelian terms of “zoon politikon”] rather than a pure and simple critique of a prevailing ideology or the sinister shadow of the “political Leviathan” Big Brother.[8] There is a great deal of political philosophy to be found in these dystopian stories of a dis-functioning hierarchical social system primarily brought about not by ‘authority’, but ultimately by the consent of a vulnerable and crushed human spirit. Almost everywhere, Orwell is saying, it is unacceptable for the power elite, whatever name or label they might go under, to rule over and to tyrannize the vulnerable. ‘Hell’ begins at the point when we are no longer free and able to act as we would wish. Here is the fundamental place from where both “Big Brother” and “Uberveillance” emerge, to depth-charge into the other places of our social activity and everyday being. The irony is that nowadays we are becoming much more than just willing participants in this mushrooming surveillance ecosystem, but are in fact inviting “Room 101” and our very jailers, not only into our homes, BUT into our blood streams.[9]

[1] Orwell, A Life in Letters, Peter Davison, (Harvill, Secker: London, 1998).

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jdftY4j-Nc

[3] https://www.orwellfoundation.com/the-orwell-foundation/orwell/biography/

[4] https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/may/10/1984-george-orwell

[5] https://www.biographyonline.net/socialism-george-orwell/

[6] Orwell, op. cit., p. ix

[7] https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2003/01/27/honest-decent-wrong

[8] https://www.taylorfrancis.com/books/e/9780203941638/chapters/10.4324/9780203941638-7

[9] Uberveillance and the Social Implications of Microchip Implants, M. G. Michael and Katina Michael (eds), (IGI Global: PA, 2014).

Random Thoughts (2)

It hurts too much to truly love, more deeply than the greatest betrayal, so we define love in the most absurd and mundane terms, forever failing to understand its ‘terrifying’ and unyielding power.

Do not put off the giving of your charity or the forgiving of your enemy for the day after tomorrow. With the blink of an eye your universe could go dark. And an opportunity forever lost to carry some small piece of light over to the other side.

You will be robbed of many things, childhood dreams and secret labors. The goal however was not the result of these things, but the response to these losses. This was the real purpose which deep down you always knew.

It is all too normal to oftentimes confuse romantic love with fleshly desire. There is common ground between the two, the longing and the lust. More truthfully it is the fear of dying alone in those depressing places which we dread too much to ponder on.

Hunger and thirst are the primary movers [and then afterwards the Creator if we should find some spare moments to reflect upon the divine], all else are choices with which we seek to define ourselves to the world for its crowns of dust.

We are by our nature both political and religious beings, it is how we are ‘wired’ and as much we might try to wash these innate inclinations away, it is not possible so we scrub and scour and still the ‘stains’ will remain.

Every time we silence our true voice we die a little more, like a beautiful song drawing quickly to its end.

If you have two friends rejoice daily. If you have three weep and fall to your knees. Blessed, blessed that you are.

Next to war there is no greater destructive consequence than our idolizing of other human beings, the ‘personality cult’. The elevating of another person to ‘star’ or ‘celebrity’ status is not only the beginning of the destruction of that person, but also reduces the giver of that status themselves. And is not the cause of all war the personality cult in the first place?

I will see light to the extent that I walk in the Light; I will walk in the darkness to the degree that what I do contradicts the truth which has been revealed to me. And it is the accumulation of these contradictions which can ultimately become our greatest ‘stumbling block’.

We are to be judged with how we have responded to the Light with our conscience “bearing witness” to the integrity of our thoughts and actions (Rom. 2:15). So be delighted enough to allow for each heart to discover its own path and its own way home. But you must remain faithful to that which was set aside only for you from the beginning.

The most beautiful things will remain hidden, the flower with the heavenly aroma hidden in the rocky cleft of the highest alp, the greatest poem forever lost in the draw of a demolished bedroom, the profoundest music not put down on paper, the most incomprehensible sacrifices seen only by guardian angels.

Your brother and sister, your next door neighbor, despite the violence and the suffering which we witness each evening on our television sets, they are by their very nature good people. There are far more ‘righteous’ people in the world than there are ‘unrighteous’. Have you asked a stranger for a cup of water and have been given a cup of stones?

Enlightenment is not a mysterious process available only to an elect group of people. We have without need complicated it with the passing of time. The first and perhaps most challenging step towards enlightenment, is to desire it in the first place. That is, to find ‘meaningfulness’ in that very moment.

I know how deeply you are suffering, but hold on a little more. This, too, it will pass. You have travelled far to reach this place and measured many distances upon this earth. For the present, for now, this is where you must be.

Nothing is insignificant, all acts and all things, touch upon the eternal.

I am neither more decent nor any more devout than you. And so I must all the time remind myself of this apocalypse by committing it to words.

MGM

What they did not understand

Gerringong, NSW

The philosophy of the ‘enlightened elite’

What they did not understand was how I would find their respective ideologies abhorrent, and that I would reject this philosophy even during the desolate hours. This would anger them more than their growing antipathy towards me. I had heard this philosophy of the ‘enlightened elite’ with its roots deep in Gnosticism a number of times, but never more persuasively argued than by these two charismatic figures in their attempts to draw me into their respective worlds: we are the enlightened ones and to us has been given the great responsibility to fix the course of the world. One of these was my Confessor. He entered my life when I was twenty-three, brimming with hope and preparing for the priesthood. The other was a mysterious entrepreneur. He would cross my path twenty-seven years later in a hotel on the outskirts of Bucharest after I had missed my flight to Sydney on account of a dream.

There is such a thing as dead water, and dead light. There is also dead spirit. And it was this which terrified me. For they were very fast to swoop down on their prey these two… my Confessor and the entrepreneur. Sometimes they would remind me of the peregrine falcon with its high-speed morphing of wings.

It was not until I had read John Banville’s exquisite novel Doctor Copernicus that I was able to find the exact paraphrase for the words which I had heard on those two occasions when these powerful individuals sought to convert me. The first of these conversations took place when I had informed the Confessor of my intention to leave the priesthood, and the second when I was presented with an employment opportunity which sounded too improbable to be true.

Later I will speak more on these temptations and of the big empty frames. And of beautiful porcelain, brittle like frozen petals, falling through my fingers.

"And yes, I know, Katina. There will be some price to pay for this. But you said, did you not, that I could write whatever I wanted?"

The makers of supreme fictions

“Ah. The common people. But they have suffered always, and always will. It is in a way what they are for. You flinch. Herr Doctor, I am disappointed in you. The common people?-pah. What are they to us? You and I, mein Freund, we are lords of the earth, the great ones, the major men, the makers of supreme fictions. Look here at these poor dull brutes… [t]hey do not even understand what we are talking about. But you understand, yes, yes. The people will suffer as they have always suffered, meanly, mewling for pity and mercy, but only you and I know what true suffering is, the lofty suffering of the hero. Do not speak to me of the people! ... [t]he people -peasants, soldiers, generals- they are my tool, as mathematics is yours, by which I come directly at the true, the eternal, the real. Ah yes, Doctor Copernicus, you and I –you and I! The generations may execrate us for what we do to their world, but we and those rare ones like us shall have made them what they are…!”[1]

[1] John Banville, Doctor Copernicus, (Picador, London, 1999), 136.