Continuing the story about a boy who once had a free-thinking lamb but then he got arrested and jailed for violating the village municipal law against possession of free-thinking lamb. (see the December 18, 2006 post for the full story behind this boy and what happened with his free-thinking lamb).
The boy, having spent a rather uncomfortable night in jail, decided to represent himself in the morning when the village elders gathered for the arraignment. The village lawyer was also the baker, and since the baker needed the mornings to bake bread for the entire village, and since village arraignments are always in the mornings, it was kind of pointless to ask for the village lawyer to represent you. Since the village had virtually no crime (other than the most recent crime which made the village newspaper front page), everything worked out just fine. The boy thusly represented pro se, the village elders regarded him with more or less indifference. The boy looked around for assistance but his erstwhile free-thinking lamb, being released on its own recognizance, did not appear in defense of the boy. The village elders, without further ado, asked him whether he thought himself guilty or innocent of the charge of violation of possession of free-thinking lambs. The boy replied,
"I did not know that my lamb was the cause of so much pain to this village. I plead guilty to this charge. I don't ask for forgiveness, but I will not violate the ordinance again."
The village elders conferred briefly but then released the boy, who felt rather severely chastened by his neighbors and not just a little hurt from being. The free-thinking lamb, of course, was REALLY no where to be found, and the boy returned home to his little cottage, alone and a day behind in his chores, but really no worse for wear. The story of what happened to the free-thinking lamb, well, that's a story for another time. The boy thought it best anyway, since the free-thinking lamb was the cause of his troubles, and since the free-thinking lamb didn't actually help out in any of the chores. Perhaps it was best this way.
So the boy continued to do his work; he would rise early in the morning, rub the dreams of owning non-free thinking, helpful around the house kind of farm animals from his eyes, and with his axe, go into the forest to cut some wood for the fires that needed tending. Then he would take the pail and draw water enough from the nearby stream to fill the barrels. Finally, he would collect the berries, the honey and any fish that got caught in the nets before coming back home. There were many chores to be done, and the boy felt his duties keenly. Without water, how would he eat, wash or bathe? Without wood, how would the fires warm the home and cook the food? Without the berries, honey and fish, surely he would die of hunger! So the boy continued his tasks without complaints. It kept him busy and the village elders had their own affairs to attend to, so all was well.
Day after day the boy continued his tasks, warily avoiding any contact with any animal that might even be construed like a free-thinking lamb. But then one day the boy chanced upon a rather odd plant, a plant with slightly bluish tint to its leaves, and a rather unusual flower petal design. Its berries were old and pitted, ans were very acidic and bitter to the taste. But rather than letting it be, the boy decided to take it home and plant it near his home, to make it grow and to see what might come of it. The boy had no herbology skills, and certainly was no farmer, but the boy knew enough to bring enough soil with the plant to keep it alive during its trip to the plant's new home. The boy then drew more water from the barrels, and kept the plant moist and dewy in the mornings before chores began.
Many months passed, and then a full season. The boy checked in on the plant from time to time, which by now had grown at least a foot, and was nearly at the boy's waist. Still, there was no fruit to be had. After the spring thaw and the rains that periodically threatened the village with flooding had passed, the boy returned once again to his home and to his plant. He looked at the plant once more, and then uprooted it and tossed it into the fire.
The moral of this story is that sometimes, plants don't always work out the way that you planned.
-David
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Eraser Crumbs
Sinning is a part of life. My life, anyway.
I do it as easily as I breathe, and as often as I breathe. Everything I do has some dark element to it, and I question all motives because there is nothing that can be pure that comes from me.
It is akin to walking on the beach in sneakers; no matter how carefully you walk, you will get sand on the inside rubbing against your skin. And then, later, when you shake out your sneakers, no matter how vigorously you shake, there will be sand remaining.
And this is how I feel these days, that I can never be clean. I feel weighed down with sin, and the fact remains that I am judged on this world by people who interact with me, and those judgments are based in part on my sinful self. If I am bitter or angry or resentful, then that side of me will color the perceptions and the judgments by those who view me, and so I am judged in my sin. I cannot escape myself, and I cannot escape judgment of those who interact with me.
God forgives, but the sin we hold inside remains tied to us while we are in this world, and those marks are indelible.
Jesus wipes away our sin, but we continue to sin, even as the eraser crumbs and marks are not yet swept away. Sort of like grass that grows so quickly that by the time you are done mowing, the first part of the lawn needs cutting again.
The end result, for those who are keeping score, is that it is as if the sin never left me, because the same sin that I was just forgiven for, I am still committing! Who can see the change, if no change is there.
It is a sad state of living, that the eraser crumbs of our sin are not yet even cleaned off of the page when we are back to our sinful lives. Or, rather, that the eraser crumbs of my sin are not yet cleaned off of the page when I am back to my sinful life.
And the comfort of knowing that my sins are forgiven is no comfort at all to me, because forgiveness is meaningless without change. Where is my change? How can I make my life more a testament to my faith, more a testament to my God? Where is the intent?
-David
I do it as easily as I breathe, and as often as I breathe. Everything I do has some dark element to it, and I question all motives because there is nothing that can be pure that comes from me.
It is akin to walking on the beach in sneakers; no matter how carefully you walk, you will get sand on the inside rubbing against your skin. And then, later, when you shake out your sneakers, no matter how vigorously you shake, there will be sand remaining.
And this is how I feel these days, that I can never be clean. I feel weighed down with sin, and the fact remains that I am judged on this world by people who interact with me, and those judgments are based in part on my sinful self. If I am bitter or angry or resentful, then that side of me will color the perceptions and the judgments by those who view me, and so I am judged in my sin. I cannot escape myself, and I cannot escape judgment of those who interact with me.
God forgives, but the sin we hold inside remains tied to us while we are in this world, and those marks are indelible.
Jesus wipes away our sin, but we continue to sin, even as the eraser crumbs and marks are not yet swept away. Sort of like grass that grows so quickly that by the time you are done mowing, the first part of the lawn needs cutting again.
The end result, for those who are keeping score, is that it is as if the sin never left me, because the same sin that I was just forgiven for, I am still committing! Who can see the change, if no change is there.
It is a sad state of living, that the eraser crumbs of our sin are not yet even cleaned off of the page when we are back to our sinful lives. Or, rather, that the eraser crumbs of my sin are not yet cleaned off of the page when I am back to my sinful life.
And the comfort of knowing that my sins are forgiven is no comfort at all to me, because forgiveness is meaningless without change. Where is my change? How can I make my life more a testament to my faith, more a testament to my God? Where is the intent?
-David
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Limited Perspectives
I am pretty good at hindsight analysis.
Even months or years later, when I look back at why things happened the way they happened, or what people meant when they said what they said, or why people did or didn't do certain things, I can still piece things together and with enough thought, I can figure it out. Of course, how cool would it be if I could piece things together in real time, but I'm not that smart and often times I need the hiddeninformation that I can only deduce from events or comments that happen later.
It's like putting together a puzzle. Someone says something a tiny bit curious, but not enough so that you wonder about it, and days or weeks later, I'll figure out the "grand" design behind the statement and see how it fits together with everything else. Corner or edge pieces are easy, but I don't often get people giving him those kinds of statements or doing something so obvious.
But, there is a huge caveat that goes with this: even with a large dose of empathetic transposition, I still only have a limited viewpoint on the world around me, and so whatever stories or puzzles I put together, it could be that I am completely wrong because I simply assumed incorrectly, or my biases brought forth an incorrect conclusion. More on this in a bit.
Anyway, here's my point.
I've often wondered at the stoicism and the lack of emotional support that many of the guys at my church exhibit. Recently, I've thought it through and I think that much of it has to do with the role models that second-generation Korean-American guys have - their dads.
Not to blame my dad, but he has been by far the biggest influence in my life, for good and for bad, and much of what makes me the person that I am, for good and for bad, has been the relationship that I've had with my father. And, for a myriad of reasons that I won't go into but most of which are fairly obvious (at least to other Korean-Americans), my father is incapable of offering emotional support on any level.
And I see that in most of the second-generation Korean-American guys that I've known. We are wary of showing weakness, of showing emotional weakness or vulnerability, and we lack the wherewithal and the knowledge of how to give emotional support.
So, I think to myself, hey, I figured it out. My dad is to blame for the way that I am, and all first generation dads are to blame for the way that second-generation Korean-American guys cannot bond together readily because they all lack the ability to emotional support another guy. We cannot do it.
And now here comes the caveat part again.
I have only a limited perspective. And I can only think upon things that I've seen. Maybe it isn't true that all Korean-American guys are unable to GIVE emotional support to another guy.
Maybe, it is just me. Maybe I am the one who is unable to RECEIVE emotional support from others, and since I don't interact people that much, I don't see the guys that I think are incapable, actually very capably giving one another sufficient and worthwhile emotional support. Maybe the reason I lack emotional support from anyone isn't because the guys aren't offering, it may be that I am not accepting it.
Maybe the moral of this story is that I shouldn't blame my dad for me, before I blame me for me.
-David
Even months or years later, when I look back at why things happened the way they happened, or what people meant when they said what they said, or why people did or didn't do certain things, I can still piece things together and with enough thought, I can figure it out. Of course, how cool would it be if I could piece things together in real time, but I'm not that smart and often times I need the hiddeninformation that I can only deduce from events or comments that happen later.
It's like putting together a puzzle. Someone says something a tiny bit curious, but not enough so that you wonder about it, and days or weeks later, I'll figure out the "grand" design behind the statement and see how it fits together with everything else. Corner or edge pieces are easy, but I don't often get people giving him those kinds of statements or doing something so obvious.
But, there is a huge caveat that goes with this: even with a large dose of empathetic transposition, I still only have a limited viewpoint on the world around me, and so whatever stories or puzzles I put together, it could be that I am completely wrong because I simply assumed incorrectly, or my biases brought forth an incorrect conclusion. More on this in a bit.
Anyway, here's my point.
I've often wondered at the stoicism and the lack of emotional support that many of the guys at my church exhibit. Recently, I've thought it through and I think that much of it has to do with the role models that second-generation Korean-American guys have - their dads.
Not to blame my dad, but he has been by far the biggest influence in my life, for good and for bad, and much of what makes me the person that I am, for good and for bad, has been the relationship that I've had with my father. And, for a myriad of reasons that I won't go into but most of which are fairly obvious (at least to other Korean-Americans), my father is incapable of offering emotional support on any level.
And I see that in most of the second-generation Korean-American guys that I've known. We are wary of showing weakness, of showing emotional weakness or vulnerability, and we lack the wherewithal and the knowledge of how to give emotional support.
So, I think to myself, hey, I figured it out. My dad is to blame for the way that I am, and all first generation dads are to blame for the way that second-generation Korean-American guys cannot bond together readily because they all lack the ability to emotional support another guy. We cannot do it.
And now here comes the caveat part again.
I have only a limited perspective. And I can only think upon things that I've seen. Maybe it isn't true that all Korean-American guys are unable to GIVE emotional support to another guy.
Maybe, it is just me. Maybe I am the one who is unable to RECEIVE emotional support from others, and since I don't interact people that much, I don't see the guys that I think are incapable, actually very capably giving one another sufficient and worthwhile emotional support. Maybe the reason I lack emotional support from anyone isn't because the guys aren't offering, it may be that I am not accepting it.
Maybe the moral of this story is that I shouldn't blame my dad for me, before I blame me for me.
-David
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Will of God
I just read an essay written by Mark Lilla, a professor of humanities at Columbia University, printed in the New York Times magazine and lifted incidentally, from a book written by Professor Lilla, entitled The Stillborn God: Religion, Politics and the Modern West (to be published in 09/2007).
Here's the link (probably temporary) to the essay.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/19/magazine/19Religion-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&bl&ei=5087%0A&en=977bf4bf3ec3f31d&ex=1187841600
It is a rather astonishing piece of writing, sweeping in characterization and leads to much thought and an inward eye. It discusses with deft and lucidity, the Great Separation and the failings of the West to understand the current rise in Islamic fundamentalism.
But the question that Professor Lilla doesn't pose, is perhaps the greatest question of all:
"Does God care about any of this?"
I don't have the time to go in depth on this right now (but I will), but it is a tremendously well-written article, and I highly recommend reading the essay, and probably the book as well when it comes out.
Here's my quick take on this.
Professor Lilla speaks of two shores: one, the shore on which we make our home, is a place where the Great Separation between theology and politics has been made (after much bloodshed and evolution of thought), and the other shore is a place where the Great Separation was never made, where political theology is the Everything, defining an entire generation and immunizing the believers from moral or legal penalties for doing whatever they do in the name of God. And the language is so different that there is little to bridge the gap because the two shores cannot co-exist where each's principal aim would lead to the destruction of the other.
The questions asked by people of both shores, about God, are the same: "How can I become closer to you, O Lord?"
But really, our question looks more like this: "How, under the emanicipating principles of freedom and the right NOT to believe in God if one so chooses, can I be made closer to you, O Lord?" The far shore's denizens might ask a slightly broader, more simple question, "How can I be made closer to you, O Lord?"
Thus do we attempt to practice our individualistic faith, if any, and thus does the far shore attempt to practice a communal fundamentalism. Neither can survive the other, unless one or both changes. Professor Lilla concludes his extremely well-written and thoughtful article with the notion that we must hope in the renovating change that may make radical Islam able to co-exist with the West. It is a sobering thought for sure, because such hope seems quite dim these days.
But that's not my point of this post. I am asking a different question, I think.
What does God think about us, the Great Separation, the individualistic principles of Western liberal theology, the radicalization and populist drive for purity and uncompromising belief of neo-fundementalist Islamicism? Does He even care?
Here I am, born into a post-Modern Western world, Christian and trying to be devout. I have strong individualistic tendencies, and do in fact believe the right not to believe in God is as important as any right to believe in anything. But I believe, hopefully as firmly as anything or more, in God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit as the tri-une God, Savior and Creator of us.
Would it matter to God, then, if I were born in a different time, or a different place, and even, say, born on the far shore? Would God only care about my life as a child of God and how I loved my Lord and my neighbor, and not in my profession, be in a crusading knight in the Dark Ages, or a lawyer in the Post-Modern times?
I guess what I am asking is, what difference should it make to any believer, what system of government we live in, what oppression or freedom we find ourselves in, or what lifestyle or occupation we are forced (or choose) to take?
Still, there is merit in the Great Separation. Western political philosophy, taken as a whole and bound together with only the singular principle of "do unto others." And this guiding principal is not an anathema to Christian thinking. This principle does not satisfy Christian theology, but given the minimalist nature of the setting, it acts as a foundation. We stand on the minimum rules, and then note that God doesn't JUST ask us to do unto others as we would have done unto us ("Love one another as you love yourself"), but understand that this goes WITH the commandment to LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD, first and foremost.
With political theology, the command of LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD is ultimately NOT situated with the command to LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF, and so the rhetoric will be self-defeating. Bloodshed will beget bloodshed, and no amount of fanatical piety will save us from our own evil that we perpetrate on ourselves in the name of God.
So, maybe that means that God's Will is that there is the Great Separation, so that we may practice what Jesus taught, and that we would have the freedom not to do so, if only to make clear which is real, and which isn't.
Honestly, though, I can't say for sure. I feel a bit out of my league, a bit like I'm in the deep end of the pool.
-David
Here's the link (probably temporary) to the essay.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/19/magazine/19Religion-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&bl&ei=5087%0A&en=977bf4bf3ec3f31d&ex=1187841600
It is a rather astonishing piece of writing, sweeping in characterization and leads to much thought and an inward eye. It discusses with deft and lucidity, the Great Separation and the failings of the West to understand the current rise in Islamic fundamentalism.
But the question that Professor Lilla doesn't pose, is perhaps the greatest question of all:
"Does God care about any of this?"
I don't have the time to go in depth on this right now (but I will), but it is a tremendously well-written article, and I highly recommend reading the essay, and probably the book as well when it comes out.
Here's my quick take on this.
Professor Lilla speaks of two shores: one, the shore on which we make our home, is a place where the Great Separation between theology and politics has been made (after much bloodshed and evolution of thought), and the other shore is a place where the Great Separation was never made, where political theology is the Everything, defining an entire generation and immunizing the believers from moral or legal penalties for doing whatever they do in the name of God. And the language is so different that there is little to bridge the gap because the two shores cannot co-exist where each's principal aim would lead to the destruction of the other.
The questions asked by people of both shores, about God, are the same: "How can I become closer to you, O Lord?"
But really, our question looks more like this: "How, under the emanicipating principles of freedom and the right NOT to believe in God if one so chooses, can I be made closer to you, O Lord?" The far shore's denizens might ask a slightly broader, more simple question, "How can I be made closer to you, O Lord?"
Thus do we attempt to practice our individualistic faith, if any, and thus does the far shore attempt to practice a communal fundamentalism. Neither can survive the other, unless one or both changes. Professor Lilla concludes his extremely well-written and thoughtful article with the notion that we must hope in the renovating change that may make radical Islam able to co-exist with the West. It is a sobering thought for sure, because such hope seems quite dim these days.
But that's not my point of this post. I am asking a different question, I think.
What does God think about us, the Great Separation, the individualistic principles of Western liberal theology, the radicalization and populist drive for purity and uncompromising belief of neo-fundementalist Islamicism? Does He even care?
Here I am, born into a post-Modern Western world, Christian and trying to be devout. I have strong individualistic tendencies, and do in fact believe the right not to believe in God is as important as any right to believe in anything. But I believe, hopefully as firmly as anything or more, in God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit as the tri-une God, Savior and Creator of us.
Would it matter to God, then, if I were born in a different time, or a different place, and even, say, born on the far shore? Would God only care about my life as a child of God and how I loved my Lord and my neighbor, and not in my profession, be in a crusading knight in the Dark Ages, or a lawyer in the Post-Modern times?
I guess what I am asking is, what difference should it make to any believer, what system of government we live in, what oppression or freedom we find ourselves in, or what lifestyle or occupation we are forced (or choose) to take?
Still, there is merit in the Great Separation. Western political philosophy, taken as a whole and bound together with only the singular principle of "do unto others." And this guiding principal is not an anathema to Christian thinking. This principle does not satisfy Christian theology, but given the minimalist nature of the setting, it acts as a foundation. We stand on the minimum rules, and then note that God doesn't JUST ask us to do unto others as we would have done unto us ("Love one another as you love yourself"), but understand that this goes WITH the commandment to LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD, first and foremost.
With political theology, the command of LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD is ultimately NOT situated with the command to LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF, and so the rhetoric will be self-defeating. Bloodshed will beget bloodshed, and no amount of fanatical piety will save us from our own evil that we perpetrate on ourselves in the name of God.
So, maybe that means that God's Will is that there is the Great Separation, so that we may practice what Jesus taught, and that we would have the freedom not to do so, if only to make clear which is real, and which isn't.
Honestly, though, I can't say for sure. I feel a bit out of my league, a bit like I'm in the deep end of the pool.
-David
Monday, August 13, 2007
An Apology Not Given
**
I think I owe someone an apology. I mean, I DO owe someone an apology (and in actuality, I owe multiple people multiple apologies), but I think I will not give it. At least, not right now. And it isn't because such person(s) do not deserve the apology (regardless of whether I should give it), but honestly, at this late date, what good can it do?
The milk is already spilled, and apologizing over it will not put the liquid back into container.
I believe that I am, now (more than I was, in anycase), a mostly-decent person. Every day, I try my best to help people in whatever ways that I can, and I have very little motivated self-interest in it except perhaps as tinge of a too-little, too-late pennance for my years of misdeeds and ills that I have heaped upon others. That, and a fairly strong double dose of (1) an OCD-like urge to make things better for everyone and (2) in-grained duty to help because that's how I've been trained. The psychological cocktail of reasons aside, I try my best to avoid hurting others and to be more responsible for my actions and inactions.
But, I also have my not-so-decent side (or, rather, had a not-so-decent side), and if there was a showdown between the number of people I've helped, versus the number of people I've hurt, the race would be too close to call. So, by my rather recent turning of a new leaf, have I earned enough do-gooding credit to stand again and face the people I see at, say, church, with my eyes no longer down, or without a heart hardened against emotional attachment?
No, I know this isn't true. And I don't think I will ever earn enough credit to do so. I am not like other people and I cannot give myself the benefit of the doubt. This isn't a court case where someone else has to prove whether I am guilty. I've seen what intents were hidden deep in my mind, and I cannot escape from myself. When I see other people, I know that I can only try to be better now, but I will never be as good or as decent as others.
So then what is the point for apologies? Since it is abundantly clear that I cannot make things right on my own, and apologizing only brings attention to my deficiencies and past misdeeds. (Or, in the alternative, if I take the Christian perspective on things, then I have already been set free of all guilt, and thus am clean as a pristine winter's snowfall. And in such state of cleanliness, there wouldn't be a need to apologize anyway. If God is the only one who can truly forgive, then why am I so bent out of shape about apologizing or trying to make things right or trying to at least be not as bad as the average person?). If it is the case that I cannot atone for my life by myself, and if it is the case that I cannot make whole that which I've broken, then what is the point?
To the people that I've hurt (whether a little or a lot), to those who still bear the scars of such pain (by their own sense of what is right or wrong), to those whose lives I've ruined in whole or in part (again, in their perspective, and not anyone else's), or irrevocably changed, it is theoretically impossible to generate enough credit to repair and to replace what I've destroyed. I am (as is probably already the case for just about everyone), best left to be forgotten. And in most cases, they probably don't even remember. Which is good (and which brings up the point about why apologize now).
Time heals wounds better than anything I can do or say. And to those who still have to deal with me, like, for example, my parents, or former friends that still are around, there can never be enough that I can do to repair the damaged relationships. My relationship with my parents and my family is such a tortured one, which has probably given me enough justification to cry out for mitigation, but then where would free will be.
So, then, I think, why apologize at all. It is just a half-hearted attempt to assuage my own sense of guilt or to whitewash my own view of the past. There is no sense is dredging up the already muddied waters, and there is no benefit to the oppressed. It is all self-interest on my part -
(1) For one thing, I may want to repair the relationship for my own selfish reasons.
(2) Or maybe I feel so guilty, that only a heartfelt and honest apology, followed by a heartfelt and honest acceptance of such apology, can make me sleep better at night.
(3) Or, even though I may sense that such person(s) would be benefitted from my apology, I can never truly separate the benefit received by said person and the benefit I receive from having benefited an aggrieved person (of course, without substantial psychoanalysis for each and every instance, how can I be sure of my own motives for anything).
Back on topic - To apologize, in this context I think, would leave me feeling dirty and not clean because this kind of altruism cannot be proved. And even if I could do good by apologizing, it is likely that if I hadn't done it by now, any good to the aggrieved would be far outweighed by the suspicion by the receiver of the apology that, in fact, I am only trying to serve my own interest. (Now, a part of me thinks that I am only trying to weasel myself out of apologizing, but even if that were true, it doesn't mean that I am not right about whether I should or shouldn't apologize now.)
**
Why is this important, if God is the only judge that matters?
Well, God is the only judge that matters, yes. But in this fallen world, people matter because relationships matter, and because God makes us matter. We are imperfect instruments of God's grace, at times, and during the other times, we can in fact exercise our free will to the destruction of everyone. Who can apologize for that? Who can forgive us for our own free will, the evil we do for whatever reasons or none at all?
Relationships with other people are all that we have right now, at least, all that we can see and feel and touch. God's hand works among us, among other ways, and God's touch can be felt through the hand of another life. The Body of Christ is made of such hands, and so are these relationships holy, or, at least, they can be holy. And though we are dirty and human, these are the only relationships we have between us, and so we must work to constantly fix and repair, lest we all drown in the pools of self-interest and destruction.
Moreover, despite the fact that when we aggrieve someone, we can ask forgiveness from God and receive it, the body of Christ is still hurt. We are causers, or rather, I, myself, am the cause of the pain. And if I am to live in the body of Christ, then I have to address the pain and not ignore it. That is a responsibility, mandated by God, if not by letter then by context. We must love one another as ourselves, and as God forgives, so must we forgive.
Nevertheless, most times I think about apologizing and trying to repair or to heal, I get a strong sense that there is nothing I can do. My apologies are just words, after all, and no apologies can bring the lost resource of time, or change the course of history to stop the pain from ever being there.
And so, in conclusion I guess, I've taken the easy way out. I avoid conflict and dredging by avoiding the giving of the apology. I also avoid the fruitless gesture of trying to replace actual pain with words of consolement, but the self-centered aspect of it all certainly does limit the effectiveness of it all. In the end though, I think I can see why I don't apologize. I am still the coward. And cowards shirk from hard tasks that fall to those with courage.
Maybe some day, I will be able to gain the courage it takes to take ahold of the fear, the shame and passive acceptance. But until then, the best I can do is this: to those whom I truly done wrong, I do apologize (small comfort since no one reads these posts!!). But if you are waiting for a personal one, you will have to wait until I am less of a craven.
-David
I think I owe someone an apology. I mean, I DO owe someone an apology (and in actuality, I owe multiple people multiple apologies), but I think I will not give it. At least, not right now. And it isn't because such person(s) do not deserve the apology (regardless of whether I should give it), but honestly, at this late date, what good can it do?
The milk is already spilled, and apologizing over it will not put the liquid back into container.
I believe that I am, now (more than I was, in anycase), a mostly-decent person. Every day, I try my best to help people in whatever ways that I can, and I have very little motivated self-interest in it except perhaps as tinge of a too-little, too-late pennance for my years of misdeeds and ills that I have heaped upon others. That, and a fairly strong double dose of (1) an OCD-like urge to make things better for everyone and (2) in-grained duty to help because that's how I've been trained. The psychological cocktail of reasons aside, I try my best to avoid hurting others and to be more responsible for my actions and inactions.
But, I also have my not-so-decent side (or, rather, had a not-so-decent side), and if there was a showdown between the number of people I've helped, versus the number of people I've hurt, the race would be too close to call. So, by my rather recent turning of a new leaf, have I earned enough do-gooding credit to stand again and face the people I see at, say, church, with my eyes no longer down, or without a heart hardened against emotional attachment?
No, I know this isn't true. And I don't think I will ever earn enough credit to do so. I am not like other people and I cannot give myself the benefit of the doubt. This isn't a court case where someone else has to prove whether I am guilty. I've seen what intents were hidden deep in my mind, and I cannot escape from myself. When I see other people, I know that I can only try to be better now, but I will never be as good or as decent as others.
So then what is the point for apologies? Since it is abundantly clear that I cannot make things right on my own, and apologizing only brings attention to my deficiencies and past misdeeds. (Or, in the alternative, if I take the Christian perspective on things, then I have already been set free of all guilt, and thus am clean as a pristine winter's snowfall. And in such state of cleanliness, there wouldn't be a need to apologize anyway. If God is the only one who can truly forgive, then why am I so bent out of shape about apologizing or trying to make things right or trying to at least be not as bad as the average person?). If it is the case that I cannot atone for my life by myself, and if it is the case that I cannot make whole that which I've broken, then what is the point?
To the people that I've hurt (whether a little or a lot), to those who still bear the scars of such pain (by their own sense of what is right or wrong), to those whose lives I've ruined in whole or in part (again, in their perspective, and not anyone else's), or irrevocably changed, it is theoretically impossible to generate enough credit to repair and to replace what I've destroyed. I am (as is probably already the case for just about everyone), best left to be forgotten. And in most cases, they probably don't even remember. Which is good (and which brings up the point about why apologize now).
Time heals wounds better than anything I can do or say. And to those who still have to deal with me, like, for example, my parents, or former friends that still are around, there can never be enough that I can do to repair the damaged relationships. My relationship with my parents and my family is such a tortured one, which has probably given me enough justification to cry out for mitigation, but then where would free will be.
So, then, I think, why apologize at all. It is just a half-hearted attempt to assuage my own sense of guilt or to whitewash my own view of the past. There is no sense is dredging up the already muddied waters, and there is no benefit to the oppressed. It is all self-interest on my part -
(1) For one thing, I may want to repair the relationship for my own selfish reasons.
(2) Or maybe I feel so guilty, that only a heartfelt and honest apology, followed by a heartfelt and honest acceptance of such apology, can make me sleep better at night.
(3) Or, even though I may sense that such person(s) would be benefitted from my apology, I can never truly separate the benefit received by said person and the benefit I receive from having benefited an aggrieved person (of course, without substantial psychoanalysis for each and every instance, how can I be sure of my own motives for anything).
Back on topic - To apologize, in this context I think, would leave me feeling dirty and not clean because this kind of altruism cannot be proved. And even if I could do good by apologizing, it is likely that if I hadn't done it by now, any good to the aggrieved would be far outweighed by the suspicion by the receiver of the apology that, in fact, I am only trying to serve my own interest. (Now, a part of me thinks that I am only trying to weasel myself out of apologizing, but even if that were true, it doesn't mean that I am not right about whether I should or shouldn't apologize now.)
**
Why is this important, if God is the only judge that matters?
Well, God is the only judge that matters, yes. But in this fallen world, people matter because relationships matter, and because God makes us matter. We are imperfect instruments of God's grace, at times, and during the other times, we can in fact exercise our free will to the destruction of everyone. Who can apologize for that? Who can forgive us for our own free will, the evil we do for whatever reasons or none at all?
Relationships with other people are all that we have right now, at least, all that we can see and feel and touch. God's hand works among us, among other ways, and God's touch can be felt through the hand of another life. The Body of Christ is made of such hands, and so are these relationships holy, or, at least, they can be holy. And though we are dirty and human, these are the only relationships we have between us, and so we must work to constantly fix and repair, lest we all drown in the pools of self-interest and destruction.
Moreover, despite the fact that when we aggrieve someone, we can ask forgiveness from God and receive it, the body of Christ is still hurt. We are causers, or rather, I, myself, am the cause of the pain. And if I am to live in the body of Christ, then I have to address the pain and not ignore it. That is a responsibility, mandated by God, if not by letter then by context. We must love one another as ourselves, and as God forgives, so must we forgive.
Nevertheless, most times I think about apologizing and trying to repair or to heal, I get a strong sense that there is nothing I can do. My apologies are just words, after all, and no apologies can bring the lost resource of time, or change the course of history to stop the pain from ever being there.
And so, in conclusion I guess, I've taken the easy way out. I avoid conflict and dredging by avoiding the giving of the apology. I also avoid the fruitless gesture of trying to replace actual pain with words of consolement, but the self-centered aspect of it all certainly does limit the effectiveness of it all. In the end though, I think I can see why I don't apologize. I am still the coward. And cowards shirk from hard tasks that fall to those with courage.
Maybe some day, I will be able to gain the courage it takes to take ahold of the fear, the shame and passive acceptance. But until then, the best I can do is this: to those whom I truly done wrong, I do apologize (small comfort since no one reads these posts!!). But if you are waiting for a personal one, you will have to wait until I am less of a craven.
-David
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