Bear With One Another
The movie gets into all this – and ends with two men talking to a class of teenagers about just this. What are our choices? One is a grandfather; the other, a father. And the grandson of the one shot and killed the son of the other. Somehow, someway, the father of the slain boy finds a way to forgive, to love, to reconcile with the grandfather of the convicted gunman. And together, they tell their story and shine a light on their friendship. “You can make this kind of choice in your life,” they tell the class of school kids. “You can do it this way.” It’s not easy, forgiveness; it takes guts, chutzpah. Together, they shine a light.
Whoever it is that writes this letter to the Colossians – maybe Paul, probably one of his disciples – whoever it is shares our conviction here that Jesus is more interested in nurturing practice than enforcing belief. This is some of the New Testament’s clearest teaching: “Bear with one another,” he writes, “and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you must also forgive.” Bear with one another. I look back now at the year we’ve spent together – and I see a congregation that has learned to bear life, to bear faith, to bear hope with one another. And this is not an easy thing. We have differences of opinion around how to build a dynamic children’s program. We have differences of opinion around how much politics is enough politics in religious life. We have theological differences around how much Jesus is too much Jesus, or how inclusive our language ought to be in worship. But we bear with one another. Through it all, in worship, in prayer, in meetings, in conversation, we bear with one another and hold fast to our commitments to one another. It’s not an easy thing.
Clothe Yourselves With Compassion
And along the way, in any community, in any family, in any body of believers, we get in one another’s way. We lose our temper. We hurt one another. I’d have to say that this is especially so in a community like ours – a church where we want so passionately to change the world, a church where we feel so acutely the power of the Spirit. A church where we love one another so. The intensity of faith around here makes for strong feelings, and deeply held convictions, and powerful hopes. And in that kind of a setting, there’s no question that we step on one another’s toes, sometimes; we hurt each other, sometimes. This passage from Colossians recognizes that it’s always going to be this way.
Sometime in October, this hit me flat in the face when I lost my own temper in the midst of a Saturday retreat for church leaders. I could come up with all kinds of excuses: that I was extra tired, that I had a lot on my plate, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I lost my temper with people that I love, and came off as something of a blowhard. Not the first time for that, and probably not the last. But I’ve thought a lot about that morning since then, and I think my emotional release had a lot to do with my high expectations: for myself, for my faith, and for us. When you care as much as you and I care, there are bound to be moments when feelings jump the tracks.
And – forgiveness becomes so, so important.
What I appreciated so much about that October retreat is the opportunity I was given – by one after another after another of you – to apologize and ask for forgiveness. And, in every case, that forgiveness was freely offered and genuinely expressed. There was no resentment, no build up of bitterness. You really do clothe yourselves with compassion, with kindness, humility, meekness and patience. And it makes space for taking risks, for daring dreams and for asking forgiveness when the time comes. Because the time does come. Especially for folks like us.
Peel Off The Hair Shirts
So I hope you’ll come next week at 9 – and watch the movie with us. If you do, you’ll see some very powerful footage of three women sorting through their losses in the aftermath of 9/11. What do you do with the hurt, with the betrayal, with the anger – when your husband dies in an attack like that? What do you do with the sense of wrong – when your firefighter son dies rushing in to save others?
It’s this last story that I find so wrenching and poignant. The mother talks about her son, about his courage as a firefighter, about his commitment to his job, about his heart for helping. She talks about her anger and her hurt, her resistance to healing and her insistence on retribution. Her son’s been killed, and she’s not sure how to move forward.
Then, bit by bit, she reveals more. A more complicated story. She talks about a rift between her and her son – a rift that opened in the weeks before 9/11 and never healed. He’d chosen to be remarried; and she’d never accepted his divorce. He’d chosen to be remarried; and she’d refused to attend. There was this rift between them, between mother and son, and then he died. Rushing into the World Trade Center. It all ended like that.
This heart-broken mother realizes, as the movie moves along, that forgiveness means forgiving herself. If she’s going to move forward in her life, if she’s going find energy for the others in her family, if she’s going to contribute something, she’s going to have to find a way to forgive herself. For not showing up for the wedding. For not accepting her son’s second marriage. For not opening her heart to the changes in his. And you and I know that forgiving ourselves is so very often the hardest part. We know that we hang on to our mistakes, to the hurt we’ve done, to the imperfections of character and the silly choices we’ve made. We hang on, and we wear these things like hair shirts for too long.
But there’s new clothing to wear this Christmas season. And it has nothing to do with guilt or shame; it has nothing to do with regret or self-contempt. “Clothe yourselves,” writes the disciple, “with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other.” The real gift of Christmas – the blow-your-mind and change-your-life gift of Christmas – is this new clothing. Forget about the shame, the guilt. Strip off all the regret, the layers of self-contempt. Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience. Clothe yourselves with Christ. Clothe yourselves with love.
That’s the gift we uncover in the manger. That’s the gift we find in a cave in Bethlehem. That’s the real gift of Christmas. Peel off the hair shirts. And clothe yourselves with love.
Forgiveness Sets The Table
Now I know some of you think I’m a bit of a Luddite. You think because I don’t have a cell phone, because I can’t figure out Facebook, that I’m sort of a simpleton where technology’s concerned. And that’s only half true. I’m no doubt a simpleton, but technology’s amazing. We live in a time, in a generation where all kinds of magic are possible, by virtue our intelligence, our expertise, our sophistication.
And I mean no disrespect to you scientists out there: amazing people, daring minds, especially the astronomers here. And we have a few at FCC. But here’s the thing. If you want to explore the finest secrets of the universe, if you want to experience the mystery that makes all of this hang together, if you want to find what Paul Tillich used to call the ‘ground of all being,’ you’ll need to commit your life to practicing the art of forgiveness. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. Mercy. Because forgiveness sets the table this morning. Because forgiveness sets the stars spinning in the farthest reaches of space and time. Because forgiveness allows a broken-hearted mother a chance to start again. Science can take us so far. But forgiveness is the secret of life.
You remember, that with his last breath, the baby Jesus, hanging on a cross, called out to God: “Father!” he prayed, there at the end, there with his last breath, “Father, forgive these sons and daughters, for they have no idea what they’re doing.” His choice, his choice to the end, was to let the bitterness go, to strip himself of resentment and rage. His choice to the end was to forgive as he himself had been forgiven. The baby Jesus, hanging on a cross.
So – during these twelve days of Christmas – and there are twelve of them – practice forgiveness and clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness and patience. Forgive yourselves – strip off the shame and the guilt, that ratty stuff that clings and chafes. Forgive yourselves – and clothe yourselves with love. You are stardust. You are chosen by God. You are holy and beloved. Every last one of you. Forgive yourselves – and clothe yourselves with love. And then, moment to moment, day to day, dare to forgive one another. Don’t look past the hurt and the harm. Touch it, heal it, let it go. Reconcile. Make peace. Dare to forgive one another. Because that’s the secret. That’s the secret of the universe, the secret of life.
Forgiveness sets the table this morning. And every morning.
Click here for more: Learning To Forgive
