[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

Ashes

My excellent rector Mike preached the Lord's Prayer on Ash Wednesday, 
one phrase at a time: "Our father," our Abba; "hallowed be thy name," 
you, God, deserve our utmost respect; "thy kingdom come, thy will be 
done on earth as it is in heaven," let this world conform itself to 
God's will. And so forth and so on.

And then we got to the hard one, the one I have most trouble with: 
"forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

<sigh>

I usually quite enjoy Lent, but this Lent looks like it's going to be 
a slugger. I'm still hard at work on a particular Biggie.

I have said elsewhere and in the past that a big act of forgiveness 
is like a custom-built yacht: it takes twice as long and costs three 
times as much as you imagined it would. And this is a really *big* Biggie.

It is made more difficult by the fact that the party of the second 
part (hereinafter the PSP) does not acknowledge anything more a few 
minor booboos, that I got royally clobbered, that people I love 
dearly also got badly hurt, and that the PSP has repeatedly told me 
to "turn the page and move on" because that's what the PSP has done. 
Allegedly.

Yes, I know all that stuff: that forgiveness something I do for 
myself, not for the PSP. I understand that. I also understand that it 
is an absolute Christian imperative. I just have trouble with this 
one, and have had for far, far longer than I'm happy with. Dammit, 
why can't I get this over and done with? Periodically, I think I've 
managed it, but then something happens to set me off again and I feel 
like I'm back at Square One. (Actually, my nearest and dearest say 
that I'm not, but then, they would say that, wouldn't they?)

But every time I go around the long, slow, upward spiral of healing 
and recovery, I make some sort of discovery, and things shift a bit. 
This time, I had two things to hang onto as I listened to Mike preach.

First, a revelation that almost blinded me by how obvious it is: it 
is not for the PSP to determine when I should be turning pages. I'm 
not sure I've finished learning everything I need to learn from this 
particular page. I will turn it when I'm ready and not a minute 
sooner, and I will not beat myself up about not being further along 
in the process.

Second, forgiveness is about regaining power. Not power in the 
negative sense, of exerting power for your own ends over another 
person, but taking back your own power. My particular PSP is heavily 
into power in the negative sense, and keeping me spiritually 
off-balance is a really good way of retaining power. So part of the 
forgiveness process -- at least of *this* forgiveness process -- is 
getting royally P.O'd and blowing some good old-fashioned raspberries.

This second was a real revelation. There's an old wrong-headed notion 
of forgiveness with which preachers' kids (especially those of the 
feminine persuasion) raised in the nice-nice '50s tended to get stuck 
with: you aren't supposed to get angry; you aren't supposed to desire 
to clobber the person who hurt you; you're supposed to tender 
instantaneous unconditional forgiveness, considering only your part 
in the problem. Something along those lines.

Mike is a marvellous refreshment to me. He periodically reminds me 
that he's Italian, and sometimes he murmurs something about other 
people's kneecaps. I'm not sure who he has in mind, and I'm not going 
to ask. We've had the occasional out-and-out blowout and we both got 
over it real fast. Anger is perfectly okay. Resentment is another matter.

So my Lenten discipline this year, and it's going to be a toughie, 
isn't so much forgiving the PSP as finding new ways of approaching 
forgiveness, ones that don't involve constant self-criticism and that 
promote real health. I have what my wise daughter-in-love says is the 
single most important thing: I am willing to become willing to 
forgive. Sometimes I may add or subtract a "willing" from that 
phrase, but I'm there. I know it matters. I know it is the healthiest 
thing I can do for myself.

With the handful of fellow parishioners, I knelt at the rail and felt 
Mike's thumb stroke ashes onto my forehead. I was more than ready for them.



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A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in 
no other way. -- Mark Twain