The Sunflower

On Self-Forgiveness

2011-02-08T01:49:00.002-05:00

Forgiveness is a precious gift. Don't push it away with your guilt . . . That hurts too many people. (from Rachel's Garden by Marta Perry; pg. 320)

Modesto Vandals Damage Virgin Mary Statues - Video - KCRA Sacramento

2010-09-02T11:58:00.016-04:00

To be able to freely forgive is a hard won ability. We learn from the youngest age to defend ourselves, hit back, strike first lest we get struck first. To forgive is the hardest of gifts to learn to give. To forgive automatically suggests that someone has done a great wrong against you. To accept forgiveness, and in fact to forgive oneself, is harder still. It suggests an awareness that you have done wrong and deep shame is felt.

This Becomes This

Modesto Vandals Damage Virgin Mary Statues - Video - KCRA Sacramento

When I first learned of the vandalization and desecration of St. Stanislaus Church (just two years old), I had arrived at a time in my life when the thought of forgiveness was first and foremost in my mind. Forgive them for what they did. Pray for them. I would not have been able to do this even ten years ago if I had not experience the profound physical experience of letting something go and forgiven a great harm that was done to me almost 40 years ago.

Once I forgave, I was on the road to this moment on August 29, 2010, when I learned of the desecration shown in the video above, and the first thought after the shock cleared away was "God forgive them". And it was no surprise that two days later, the parish community itself, along with many others from outside of St. Stanislaus Parish, joined together in prayer to pray for those who had perpetrated such harm.

I don't know about others but what for me started out as a teary experience in the end became a moment of grace and peace and a strong feeling of being united with everyone in the church. We were all one family grieving over the same loss and we drew strength from each other.

The Mother is not at home

These two statue were not touched. They are the two male icons in the church, St. Anthony (on the left) and St. Joseph. It was only Holy Mother who was touched, blooded and in the case of the empty niche to the left, destroyed.

So much more could have been lost. The glass wall housing the tabernacle. The tabernacle itself was untouched. Only one window in the building was broken, the one broken to get in. The organ was upended and turned over but once righted was found to be still playable.

I think though that the worst thing that could have been lost was the sense of love and unity and prayerfulness the church members displayed. But that didn't happen. No. Instead, in that one terrible moment, no matter what our differences, we were family and stood together as one and forgave.

The Shock of It

2010-04-05T00:22:00.007-04:00

Today, at Easter Sunday Mass, I was witness to something very sad. It started out simply enough. It is 10:40 and the church is slowly filling with the larger than usual group of Sunday worshippers. Easter and Christmas always fill up the church. If we had these, as we call them, Chreaster Catholics, at Mass every Sunday, we could change the world. The force of good would overwhelm the rampant evil in the world but that's another subject for another blog. Back to the topic at hand - forgiveness.

"Mary" has been a member of our parish for 40 years. For the past 25 years and specifically for the past 25 Easter Sundays, she has played the piano and directed the music for the 11 a.m. Mass. This is her personal ministry, her calling. It means a lot to her. This Sunday, a portion of our youth group band entered and started setting up to play the music. When "Mary" arrived the shock of seeing others set up to play threw her into a terrible vortex of shock and anger. No one had told her that she wasn't playing.

The youth band director tried to calm her but there was no calming her, no abating of the erupting anger and insult of feelings emerging from her. Clearly, there had been a breakdown in communication. Words like "I've been here 40 years . . ." "I've played this Mass 25 years . . ." "I'm done. I'm finished. I won't be back." Even Fr. A's presence and attempt to talk to her did nothing to calm her.

Since I was sitting right across the aisle from this emotional event, I was able to see and hear it all unwind. I felt great sympathy for her and for the young people of the band. It was uncomfortable for them and devastating for her. And while I sympathized with her, another part of me regretted that she did not have the self-control to remember where she was and why she was really there.

The liturgy committee schedules all the Mass details for special days such as Easter. Why didn't anyone say something to "Mary". She certainly wasn't a stranger to the routine of such Holy Day services. How could such a breakdown occur? What history of participation from the past lead her to believe that it was set in stone that 11 a.m. was her Mass to play? Why didn't she think to check and confirm the schedule herself? Such useless questions in the moment, of course, but I hope the story does not end here.

It's moments like this that show us how confused our purpose for being at worship can become. We are there, first and foremost, to give our thoughts and attention to our Lord and the great sacrifice He made for us. Yes, we want to serve Him if we are called to do so in some capacity, but service must be given in a spirit of humility and gratitude for the privilege of providing the service. Somewhere along the way, the line was blurred in "Mary's" ministry. The meaning became more for her sake than for His.

I pray that with the ebbing of her anger and hurt and talking with Fr. A privately and then with the committee members who did the scheduling; and I hope with an apology from them, that she will find her way to forgiveness and peace. I pray that she does not choose to continue to not participate in a ministry that means so much to her. It would be a great loss.

The Poison Spindle

2010-03-10T12:28:00.001-05:00

The poison Spindle (unfinished illo by me)

It's easy for me to be smug about forgiveness when I am happy and all is going well and the dark corners of my soul are hidden from view. BUT what if I am the Fairy (become wicked witch) who did not get invited to the wedding?

How do I avoid planting a poisoned spindle?

That actually happened to me, many years ago. A good friend--or so I'd thought--got married. Her fiance wanted my boyfriend as his best man, but my boyfriend and I had just had a fight. They decided that to avoid tension at their wedding, they would not invite me. I was incredibly hurt. Our friendship was never the same after that. I felt unloved and rejected. I've tried and tried to forgive. I have not succeeded as well as I would prefer. We are polite and write to each other every year at Christmas, but the closeness is gone. I would like to truly forgive, to forgive deeply and be cleansed of any lingering resentments. But that is not what I reallywanted to talk about.

The current issueone is GB, my stepson. He did not show up at home tonight in time to leave for his guitar lesson. This is the boy who "doesn't consider me family," who stopped calling me "Mom," though he called me that for many years, who doesn't want me to adopt him. Orphan boy. But it's me calling to make him his last minute already late doctor appointments so he can join track and me calling all around trying to find him so he won't miss his guitar lesson. And there won't be any thank yous. Not today, and probably never.

Do I need them? I probably shouldn't need them. I should be able to rise above it all, to continue to be loving in the face of rejection--and I keep trying--but sometimes, it's hard. Very hard.

Anyone know a way to detoxify a poison spindle?

I want to do nothing dishonorable or unloving in the face of continued rejection and being taken for granted. (can those two be in the same sentence together, rejection and being taken for granted?}. IS there such a thing as ONGOING FORGIVENESS? How does one learn that skill?

When to forgive?

2009-09-02T09:09:00.005-04:00

Sometimes, I am not sure whether or how to forgive. I feel confused.
I ask myself:

a. Jesus (What would Jesus do?) It's been suggested that we ask this when confused about how to proceed. Jesus was not always Mr. Kindness and forgiveness. He kicked over the tables of the moneychangers. He cursed a tree that wouldn't flower for him. So how do we know when to forgive and when to start kicking? (I had Sissy acting like Jesus in my kids' book, Frog Haven!)

b. Buddha (What would Buddha do?) Imperturbability? I can only FAKE IT! I can "Act as if." I can pretend. But inside is a maelstrom. It rears its ugly head when my guard is down. How can I calm the maelstrom inside? (Prayer helps).

When forgiveness?

2009-09-01T23:17:00.002-04:00

When forgiveness?

At what point does forgiveness come into the equation when there's been an argument or misunderstanding?? Does s/he have to ASK for it, apologize? I usually just forgive him or her the best I can after a while because otherwise there is too much tension. And I feel too sad. But if there's been no apology and the bad behavior continues, is forgiveness appropriate?

Faking and Forgiving

2009-09-01T19:45:00.004-04:00

There is the truth that meets between reality and conscienceness. Your actions, your conscious desire to forgive, are real but the realm of sleep is a playground for that which wants to undermine us from our waking desires and impulses to be good, to do what is right. If we let it do its job, we end up doubting ourselves.

I don't speak from theory. I was good because I was told to be good. And, I believed the world was good. Then I learned it wasn't always good. Next step - how to behave and feel the truth of who I am and how I felt. That was no easy task and I felt like I was faking it.

Yes, that was the word I used too. Interestingly, I still feel sometimes as though I am a fake. Case in point: I never cried after my mother's death. This means I didn't really love her. Ergo - I'm faking it. Of course, that's pure bullshit.

For me, the solution to middle of the night obsessing was and remains prayer. It is very common for me to wake in the middle of the night filled with worries, fears, anger, doubts, and dread. I finally tried prayer - the Hail Mary and Our Father of my youth and adult life. They act as a meditation, a mantra, a chant, a redirection of thought. My belief in their power restores my trust, my faith in what I really believe to be true about myself.

There is no one who pushes my buttons more than my husband does, and like you, the event is almost always about some little thing. And again like you, more than a few fights ensued because of the provocation, with rarely an apology (well, on his side anyway). But, I chalk that up to male pride and I let him have it. But somewhere along the line, I learned to let him know my real feelings and my hurts and/or general disagreement. It's not easy and I've learned to pick my times so emotions of the moment don't clutter things up.

I find myself often feeling fake at work and the source is clearly my burn-out, my impatience with the same questions and attitudes I've dealt with for 21 years. But, self-awareness has taught me to recognise the slide into rudeness and impatience (well mostly). The extra effort to reach out, do good, help and give guidance always, 100%, results in gratitude because someone took the time to listen and to hear.

Of course, there is always a voice waiting to tell me I'm such a fake. And it's not just about faking forgiveness, either. Learning to trust your own realness, in all things, just leads naturally to believing in your capacity to forgive. To not believe in our self only weakens us.

Of course, the stronger the self-belief, the stronger the assault from outside to undermine that belief, that understanding of our self. We find ourselves meeting and learning and coming to know and understand the religious sense we are all born with. But that is a whole other conversation.

More thoughts on forgiveness

2009-08-31T23:15:00.001-04:00

Notes in reponsie to my previous post (see below)(Thank you, A)

A friend just told me she thought I was very good at forgiving.

Sometimes, I think I am good at "acting"--at pretending I've forgiven--trying to make my wishes to be a forgiving person into a reality that doesn't fully exist, a sort of hyper "acting as if."

The reason I say that is because I wake up in the middle of the night obsessing about something I think I've "released." And then can't sleep.

Somethings that seem like little things--like my husband planting grass seed in my garden without asking.

I get mad at him more than anyone else. I forgive him more than anyone else. I guess that's not surprising, as we spend more time together than we do with anyone else.

But acting "as if"--as if I've forgiven him--just sort of pushes the hurt feelings deeper down where the resurface to bother me at night,

On the other hand, telling him how I feel often provokes a fight. And a long drawn out process which may include lots more to try to forgive!!

I'd like to do a better job of being human. I guess that means forgiving MYSELF for my imperfections, too!

Such Hard Work

2009-08-31T12:07:00.005-04:00

Forgiving is SUCH HARD WORK. I have to do it over and over and over and then do it yet again.

I woke up early in the wee hours of morning today, in the darkness, ANGRY yet again about something I thought I'd put behind me. Angry and then depressed. Depressed that I can't seem to let go. I'm angry about a series of relatively small things. What it it were something large? How successful would I be at forgiving?

It's easy to have a holier-than-thou attitude, for me, and think, of course I would do the right thing and be forgiving. It's so much harder to actually do it. And to continue to do it for as long as it takes to succeed.

(This sunflower is a detail from a quilt made by Marie Zeller from Grosse Pointe Michigan and displayed at the Michigan State Fair. Click on the image to view it a little larger.)

Forgiveness

2009-08-08T11:00:00.001-04:00

This is how I feel when I have truly forgiven someone, deeply, or feel
that someone has truly forgiven me.

Forgiveness is

2009-07-21T16:48:00.001-04:00

sunshine on a cloudy day.

Voltaire

2009-07-20T16:54:00.002-04:00

VOLTAIRE:
No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible.

Many people hold onto a grudge because it offers the illusion of power and a perverse feeling of security. But in fact, we are held hostage by our anger. It is never too late to forgive. But you can forgive toosoon. I am especially wary of what I call "saintly forgiveness." Premature forgiveness is common among people who avoid conflict.

They're afraid of their own anger and the anger of others. But their
forgiveness is false. Their anger goes underground. I define forgiving
as letting someone back into your heart. This returns us to a loving
state -- and not merely within the relationship -- we feel good about
ourselves and the world. True forgiveness isn't easy, but it
transforms us significantly. To forgive is to love and to feel worthy
of love. In that sense, it is always worthwhile.

love first

2009-07-20T09:49:00.001-04:00

In The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne says: "It is to the credit of human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates."

I love this quote and I think it's true that our first instinct is to love and be close, and only when circumstances push us away do we lose this.

Hawthorne goes on to say, "Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility." I think the same can be said of forgiveness--that is, time and innate love can transform lack of forgiveness to forgiveness. We can speed the process by choice and intention.

Separating forgiveness from condoning ...

2009-07-18T12:57:00.001-04:00

Letting Out the Old Anger, by Mary Stebbins Taitt

Separating forgiveness from condoning the act

This is from a discussion I had with another blogger and I thought I'd share it here.

She said, "I cannot separate forgiveness and condoning the act that needs to be forgiven."

I said:

I think separating forgiveness from condoning the act is a crucial thought and act.

You can learn to forgive WITHOUT condoning the act that was wrong.

People are human and everyone, including you, makes mistakes, does bad things--right? I sure know I do.

We HAVE to be forgiven because we are all imperfect and we get tired and grumpy and all sort of things cause us to to do wrong.

Try saying to YOURSELF (at first) and then maybe to some safe other person, I forgive YOU even though what you did was wrong and hurtful. I do not erase the wrong, I do not forget the wrong, but choose to forgive, even if I have to do it over and over again, I will forgive you.

Whether or not ALL acts should be forgiven is a question. I think probably they should, but boy oh boy, some are pretty heinous. Start with easy things, maybe.

My first husband beat me--very badly, more than once, and was abusive in other ways. He called me up years later and asked me to forgive him. I told him I wasn't sure I could. Later, I told him I would. I wasn't really sure I could, but I said I would, though I might have to keep trying.

I am crying now as I write this, because the pain is still there. But I do think I have finally succeeded in forgiving him. It was a long row to hoe. Speaking forgiveness inside and then aloud is a first step.

I get angry easily, probably too easily, and forgiving is hard. I think it's important. It may take me several days to forgive my husband when he has done something annoying or worse.

However, having said that, I will also say this: if someone hurts me ABUSIVELY, I need to find a safe refuge and keep myself safe. Forgiving does not mean allowing someone to continue to hurt you.

It's hard to know, sometimes, where to draw the line. There are people who can help with this if you need it.

forgiveness

2008-10-22T12:25:00.001-04:00

so much to say . . .

Revenge and Forgiveness

2008-10-05T14:07:00.002-04:00

I am just back from the Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival.

I thought this was relevant to our discussion (this poem made me cry and cry.):

The Cemetery

2008-08-24T16:34:00.001-04:00

. . . They were facing in another direction. The evening sunshine gave them a reddish tinge, and they trembled gently in the breeze. They seemed to be whispering to each other. Were they horrified by the ragged men who were marching past on tired feet? The color of the sunflowers - orange and yellow, gold and brown - danced before my eyes. They grew in fertile brown soil, from carefully tended mounts - behind them, gnarled trees - and above it all, a deep blue sky. . .

My Thoughts on Mary Gordon's response

2008-08-23T20:11:00.003-04:00

When I read Edward Flannery’s and Mary Gordon’s respective responses to The Sunflower, I had radically different responses to their thoughts.

I found Flannery’s words to be thoughtful, insightful, and oddly gentle. I found them completely in harmony with my own reading of Wiesenthal’s story. Flannery’s response also contained an element of compassion for Karl, the dying Nazi soldier.

Mary Gordon’s understanding and reaction could not have been more different. Most prominent in her response is her dehumanization of Karl by never referring to him by name. She calls him “the Nazi”. She uses Nazi in place of his name six times, each time rendering the word as a spitting epithet.

Gordon sits in judgment of Karl and refuses any compassion or understanding to enter into her response. I found her understanding of forgiveness to be incomplete. Forgiveness can be freely given at any time but to truly restore a relationship, a change of behavior is required.

She also has, I believe, a total lack of understanding of a priest’s role in the sacrament of absolution; nor do Catholics desire anything more than private contrition. The practice of public penitence exists, to a certain degree in various Catholic cultures but these public displays have their roots in the extant culture it is found in.

The strongest sentiment I felt in Gordon’s response was one of anger, but was it personal anger, righteous anger, indignant anger? I couldn’t tell but I do know that her anger, no matter the source, lead to the awful eye for an eye solution she offered for true atonement. It wasn’t enough for Karl to suffer with loss of friendship, eyesight, and physical capacity. It wasn’t enough for him to have been given time to linger in pain and reflect on his heinous acts. No. Mary Gordon feels that the only appropriate setting for atonement for Karl is for him to suffer in the camps as well.

I cannot agree with her because even in the camps there was a sense of shared community, shared suffering, and opportunities for relationship. By remaining alone, Karl was denied even that. He was totally and completely alone on a human level, left alone with his thoughts. His only companion was God who never abandons anyone.

Gordon’s words suggest she has much to learn of compassion, forgiveness, relationship, and love. She must cast a wider net for deeper understanding otherwise she will remain always at an undeveloped emotion level of understanding. Until the anger is controlled, her emotional warfare will be on-going.

The Sunflower

2008-08-17T16:23:00.002-04:00

A small sketch based on the book, The Sunflower. Click on it to see it larger.

Dalai Lama — My Response

2008-07-30T08:29:00.008-04:00

A few years back, a Tibetan monk who had served about eighteen years in a Chinese prison in Tibet came to see me after his escape to India. I knew him from my days in Tibet and remember last seeing him in 1959. During the course of that meeting I had asked him what he felt was the bigest threat or danger while he was in prison. I was amazed by his answer. It was extraordinary and inspiring. I was expecting him to say something else; instead he said that what he most feared was losing his compassion for the Chinese.

If I were to lose my compassion for those who have harmed me, then I would continue the cycle of anger and abuse that began long before I was born. I feel the desire to forgive and I feel compassion for those people. I know why they were abusive and angry. There are times when I even feel that I have forgiven these people. So I was heartened to read the passage that I quoted above in The Sunflower because it reaffirmed a conclusion that I had reached independently.

So why is it that I am still experiencing profound sadness and grief about the past? The death of my stepmother, whom I erroneously regarded as a mother, has burdened me with too much pain. What do I need to do to forgive (and I thought I had forgiven because I did not ever consciously feel anger or hate)? Obviously the Dalai Lama has spiritual wisdom that I don't have but I have no background with Buddhism for guidance. So I looked to Christianity, with which I am more familiar, and I read passages that are inspiring and comforting, such as Annie's response to Edward Flannery's response in the previous post. Annie quotes Mary Karen Read, who wrote, “When a deep injury is done to us, we never recover until we forgive.”

I have prayed, sought help and read both the Bible and secular books (including The Sunflower). Forgiveness, and its peace, still evades me. I may have a clue why: I think we can only forgive if we are part of a larger community of compassionate and spiritual people who can lead the way and comfort us.

Now I ask the Dalai Lama, the Buddhists, the Christians and all readers: How do we forgive and find compassion? Is forgiveness such a large task that it requires years of study, reading and meditation? Is it inevitable that we feel that primitive anger before we can forgive? Do Buddhists experience that anger? Wouldn't I be as bad as the abusers if I felt deep anger and hatred?

I need to forgive so that I can recover.

The Sunflower - My Response

2008-07-16T21:34:00.005-04:00

God’s power to forgive is limitless. Our own ability to forgive is strengthened by our ability to call upon God for His help in our own efforts to offer forgiveness. Forgiveness does not happen in an instant. Before we can forgive, we must have the desire to forgive.

When Simon Wiesenthal was brought before the dying SS soldier, Karl, Karl told him his story, confessed his crimes, and asked for forgiveness. Wiesenthal had no time to assimilate and respond to this enormous plea. The desire to forgive had no chance to bloom with Wiesenthal. His Jewish theology and the circumstances he found himself in, would not allow for it.

From the moment of his encounter with Karl, Karl’s plea for forgiveness became one of the singular events of his life. He was not able to offer forgiveness to Karl before he died but he was so deeply effected that for the rest of his life he asked others, “What would you have done”? Had he not been so deeply moved, I would not be here, over 60 years later, writing my own thoughts and trying to answer the question that haunted Wiesenthal for the rest of his life. We also would not have had the collective thoughts from generations of readers of his book, The Sunflower, thoughts from classrooms, discussion groups, private reflections and the published responses found in the book along with Simon’s story.

Why is this question so important? The short answer would be simply that forgiveness is freeing for both the giver and the receiver. To forgive frees us from vengeance, bitterness, the sense that we are victims; all feelings that can only corrode the soul.

Forgiveness and reconciliation are welded together in Christian thought. God is all forgiving and merciful and we are called to be as He is. However, to forgive does not mean to be reconciled. Reconciliation is a restoration of the relationship between the victim and the victimizer. Reconciliation suggests that there is a change in the behavior of the victimizer. If there is no change, there can be no reconciliation. So, we can forgive but not be reconciled.

By going through the process of forgiving, we are freed from evil’s power over us. Thus, with forgiveness offered, we are able to go forward in our lives. The lessons of evil have the power to teach the world that there is a better way. Forgiveness becomes a tool of God’s hand that takes evil and makes it an instrument of good. St. Augustine wrote, “God judged it better to bring good out of evil than to allow no evil to exist.”

We have many modern day examples of the power of forgiveness becoming a tool for good. Mary Karen Read is one of the 32 victims of the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007. After her death, at age 18, notes on forgiveness were found in her private journal. Two months before her death, she wrote, “When a deep injury is done to us, we never recover until we forgive.”

Remarkably, this was just one of a series of quotes on forgiveness that Mary had been collecting since her mid-teens. The notebook, now used by Mary's father to help others, shows most profoundly the healing and comfort that can be found in forgiveness. It has become God’s tool for bringing good out of evil and showing the way out of pain and sadness.

Holocaust survivors remind us that if you have not been through it, you cannot understand the depth of the pain. Mary’s family echoes this same feeling. On a very small scale that can in no way be equated with Wiesenthal’s experience or the Read family’s loss, I found myself being called for years to forgive an individual who was instrumental in causing great havoc and wreckage in my life.

Until I could forgive, I could not free myself of the fears and insecurities that had settled around my heart and mind. But with forgiveness came the sensation of shedding the anger, hurt, bitterness and fear that was physically felt as it flow from my body through my fingertips and feet. The power of those past evil acts literally flowed out of me leaving a cleansed space from which I could start again and grow in personal strength. Forgiveness became not only a spiritual and mental experience, but also a physical experience.

Wiesenthal may not have given Karl what he was asking for but through thought and action, I believe that he was clearly moved in the direction of forgiveness. There simply was not enough time for Karl to show by his actions that he was truly remorseful and changed. But in those shared hours, Simon and Karl became God’s tool for good to emerge from great evil. And what of Karl’s plea for forgiveness? Simon, by hearing his plea, was led on a lifelong quest regarding God’s expectations of us. Karl, as an instrument of evil, was given a penance commensurate with his crime. He suffered tremendously. His suffering was not just physical. He suffered in conscience. He suffered the loss of the one thing that would have given him comfort and consolation: the nearness of his beloved mother.

But even here I see the hand of God at work. By not having the comfort of his mother, he was left truly alone with his thoughts. We cannot judge the quality and value of Karl’s remorse. We can only know that by his punishment he was led to reflect on his actions, arrive at deep remorse and then beg for forgiveness.

The object of his quest , a Jew, should not be judged either. He had nothing else to lose. His life was at an end. His confession and expression of remorse was true remorse. He did not spare himself. He did not excuse him. He did not explain himself. He accepted the grace that comes from accepting the knowledge of his crimes.

As I read Edward Flannery’s conclusion in his own response to Wiesenthal question, “What would I do?”, I could not help but identify completely with his words. I take Flannery’s words here now and embrace them wholly as my own.

“ . . .I would have – I do hope – forgiven him and, as an obstinate believer, suggested to him that he make his peace with God by asking for His forgiveness, and, taking full advantage of the situation, uttered a prayer for the repose of his soul and those of the victims of his inhuman behavior."

'The Sunflower': an Introduction

2008-06-24T14:38:00.002-04:00

The Sunflower

Summoned to the bedside of a dying Nazi who had willingly participated in the systematic annihilation of Europe's Jews, concentration camp inmate Simon Wiesenthal found himself the captive, solitary witness to this 21-year-old SS man's confession of responsibility for committing acts of unspeakable cruelty.

Kurt had asked a nurse to bring him a Jew (any Jew would do); quite by chance the nurse selected Wiesenthal from the work detail assigned to the hospital that day. Against his will, he listened to this man recount his experience of packing a house full of Jewish men, women, and children and then setting the house on fire while lobbing grenades into the inferno and shooting at anyone who had attempted to escape this hell. Kurt watched a father, mother, and small boy leap from a window to their certain death. Before the leap, the father had shielded the child's eyes.

The image haunted Kurt, who was unable to fight again. Instead, he froze on the battlefield and suffered and injury that first cost him his sight and then took his life. Before he died, though, he wanted to confess his sins to a Jew that he might be forgiven and die in peace.

Wiesenthal, who was about the same age as this soldier, heard him out but refused to forgive. Instead, he offered silence in response to the story and returned to the concentration camp.

The experience haunted Wiesenthal; soon after it happened, he discussed it with his friends back at the camp, with a Polish Catholic seminarian. Much later, he presented the story to theologians, political leaders, Holocaust survivors, and victims of other attempted genocides and asked each of these persons what he or she would have done in the same situation.

The Symposium

The story itself is first book of The Sunflower; the responses to the question, "The Symposium," are the text of the second book in this volume. Broadly grouped, the respondents are Jews and Christians, primarily. There are two Buddhist respondents and one Chinese respondent who makes no reference to religion though his response is in keeping with Buddhist thinking. Within these broad categories respondents reflect on different facets of the experience Wiesenthal describes and facets of their faith and life experiences and knowledge to make a response.

The Jewish respondents point to the fact that only the person against whom a sin has been committed has the right to forgive the sinner. Therefore, Kurt cannot be forgiven; his victims are dead. The Christian respondents point out, first, that they feel they have no right to address the question because they have never been on the receiving end of genocide. Then they point out that God alone can forgive and that it is incumbent on each of us sinners to find forgiveness in our hearts for others. The Buddhists respond, as Buddhists do, in the present tense and with an eye on enlightenment--a release from suffering. Each perspective reflects a different concept of individuality and therefore of the nature of accountability.

The Invitation

For this reader, The Sunflower accomplishes the important task of bringing the reader into the concentration camp alongside one of its victims, into the hospital room of the dying SS man, and into the heart of the questions the Holocaust raises about responsibility, accountability, forgiveness, restitution, and grace. These are questions that refuse pat answers and therefore remain alive and active in our minds. Wiesenthal's book challenges our ability to empathize with those who suffer and our ability to think about how and why we believe what we do about ourselves and each other. It is a humble and beautiful tribute to those who suffered and died in the Holocaust. We too can honor their memory by participating in the conversation this book presents.

a little note about sunflowers

2008-06-20T15:51:00.001-04:00

I love the symbolism of the sunflower. The sunflower follows the sun, the sun is the giver of growth, warmth and energy, and symbolic of God. The flower follows the sun, the roots reach into the ground and touch the earth, the water, the minerals, the person who has died. The plant connects earth and sky, the dead and the heavens, the human and God. Its radiance represents love and forgiveness. A marvelous symbol.

(photo by me, mary taitt)

The twelve steps and forgiveness

2008-06-20T15:45:00.003-04:00

I just wanted to mention that the very effective twelve step programs
that helps so many alcoholics, gamblers, drug users and overeaters
deals more with forgiveness than any other issue.

Twelve Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over
alcohol/drugs/food/gambling/other people(etc)—that our lives had
become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore
us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of
God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact
nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to
make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to
do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong
promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious
contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of
His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we
tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these
principles in all our affairs.

4-10 have to do with forgiveness, more than half, as does step 12,
which is to continue working the steps above. Being "restored to
sanity," has in large part to do with giving and receiving
forgiveness. (And of course, confession is such a large part of the
Catholic Church.)

(photo by me, mary taitt)

Sunflower, first section

2008-06-20T15:24:00.005-04:00

I have finished reading The Sunflower, just the first section of the book with Simon Wiesenthal's story. I cried a lot. Strangely, perhaps, I did not cry at all during most of the early book. I cried when he began to truly struggle with his memories and with forgiveness. I cried hard and loud and luckily was alone.

I also read one of the responses, the one from the Dali Lama. I have to say I found it a bit alarmingly pat, annoyingly so. I guess there was so much soul searching going on by Simon that I felt a pat-seeming answer was inappropriate. Somehow disrespectful. (I often feel that way when leaving comments on people's blogs who have exposed their souls, and I can only say, now now, don't worry, everything will be fine.)

But nothing will be fine, or, everything will be fine in the sense only that there is some perfection in imperfection.

I have struggled all my life with issues of forgiveness, but this book brings up larger issues than the ones I have previously deeply considered.

Are there unforgivable sins or wrongs?

Does anyone have the right to forgive on behalf of someone else or a group?

Are there times when forgiveness is actually wrong?

I always thought that forgiveness was always right, but that it was
just terribly hard to do in some cases.

I heard on NPR recently about a case where the parents of a girl who
was murdered somewhere in Africa has helped the murderer and now
consider him like a son.

I have a hard time imagining myself able to do something like that, or
even that it was the right thing to do. I was very upset and confused
when I heard the story.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. Clearly, we are not to take
revenge against others. And for Christians, Jesus died on the cross
so that our sins would be forgiven.

Which brings me to another personal story. This is a sort of weird
story and one that some people have reacted badly to, so I am a little
afraid to tell it, but I guess I will, since I seem to feel compelled
to do so.

First, a little background. My father was an atheist. He was raised
Catholic, but did not believe on God. My mother was an agnostic and
talked more and more about God, or the possibility of God, as she
aged. (This annoyed some of the other atheists in our family.) We
lived in a small community, and my parents liked to sing, and the only
opportunity for singing there was the church choir. We went to church
and my parents sang in the choir and we went to Sunday School.

When I was in high school, I was baptized and confirmed in the
Presbyterian Church. A few years later, I repudiated the Church and
God and became an atheist/agnostic. Confused, basically. I remain
confused, lo these many years later. I am of two minds, a scientific
mind that says life ends when we die, period, and a hopeful, questing
mind that seeks belief. I have tried many forms of religion over the
years and have been unsatisfied with each and all of them.

Maybe about ten years ago, or so, I was sitting in the little park in
front of the museum where I worked. It was evening, and I had had to
work late. I was alone, having my dinner break before returning to
work. I had been reading. The park and streets were full of people,
a small band was playing nearby. I stopped reading, looked around,
and closed my eyes briefly.

I was not asleep. I could hear a man talking on the phone (a pay
phone near me--this was before cell phones were so prevalent). I
could hear people talking on the other side of me, and people coming
and going.

Suddenly, Jesus was standing in front of me. I was not entirely
pleased and said something to him that would sound sarcastic and
disrespectful to a true believer, but I was not a true believer. I
said, "What are you doing here?" He smiled. He communicated to me
directly in my mind, like a conversation, only silent. He gave me to
know that he had been out on the desert fasting, praying and
meditating. That seemed appropriate to me, as I did a lot of that
myself. A connection, or sorts. Grains of sand clung to his skin. I
could see every hair and pore on his skin. He was deeply tanned and
nearly naked. He told me, very clearly, more than once, that I was
his, that I belonged to him, forever. That I was forgiven, now and
forever.

I think of that moment, sometimes, when I feel unloved and unworthy.
When I feel that I have done something bad, something unforgivable, I
remember that I am forgiven. At least by him.

Other times, I dismiss it as a hyopnogogic/dream or wishful thinking.
But I was fully awake and had not been wishing (consciously) for Jesus
and was not even pleased to see him! I did not consider myself to be
a Christian.

I still do not believe in God, not entirely, anyway. I do not attend
church and do not consider myself to be a Christian, exactly. But I
continue to find solace in the notion of my being forgiven.
Continuously, forever.

I have not succeeded in forgiving myself or other people I need to
forgive, with some exceptions, and I have not asked for forgiveness
from all the people whom I have wronged. I believe this is important
work and that I need to do it. Being forgiven by Jesus that night
does not excuse me from doing the important work of forgiving and
asking forgiveness. But it gives me a sense of peace and courage,
sometimes, when facing traumatic forgiveness issues in my life.

As an abuse survivor and very human and flawed person, I have lots of
personal forgiveness issues both in giving and receiving forgiveness.
But I have had little intimate experience, thank God, with the horrors
of genocide, war, and so on that Simon speaks of, or the incredibly
difficult choice he was given. I cannot answer what I might do, at
this point, or what even is right. I have to start all over to
consider these questions.

I keep wanting to believe that forgiveness is always right. But
torture? Murder? Rape? Inflicted terrible sufferings to total
innocents--children, the aged? If you forgive the perpetrator, what
about the victim?

The Dali Lama urges forgiveness and compassion. I want to agree with
him. Jesus said, love thine enemies. He didn't mean hug them and kiss them or have sex with them.

What did he mean? He meant compassion, forgiveness, understanding.

When someone hurts me, it takes me a while to reach the point of being
able to forgive--even small injuries.

Simon was still being hurt, and was in imminent danger. He was living
in fear and numbness. It's much easier to forgive from a distance,
much harder to forgive while immersed in pain. Closer to home, should
a woman who is in an ongoing abusive relationship forgive her husband
who is still beating her? As he is kicking her, should she forgive
him?

The Bible says, turn the other cheek. But that is easier said than
done, and may not be safe for the woman in question. I knew a woman
who was a very nice sweet lovable, kind woman, and very forgiving.
She kept forgiving her husband for striking her. Over and over, she
forgave him. He killed her. Killed her dead. Now she is gone.
Confusing.

I still think forgiveness is the right thing to do--but get safe
first, if possible.

I think I am rambling here. I think personal forgiveness is right.
It's what I believe in.

Forgiving for a group in a situation like Simon describes, that's a
little harder. No, it's a LOT harder. I still think I believe in
forgiveness. But could I do it, in that situation? Probably not.

Here's what I think. Each person is an individual. One cannot hold
the SS guy (Karl) responsible for all the sins and wrongs and horrors
of all the SS. Only for what he personally has done, and then you
have to look at the extenuating circumstances. You have to be able to
walk a mile in his shoes. We can't do that well. That's why the
Bible says, "Judge not, lest ye be judged." It's not our job to
judge. We cannot know, truly know, what is in the heart of another.

Can you forgive without making a judgment? Do you have to believe
that the person is "worthy" of being forgiven? Who makes that choice?
Can you forgive without it? I think yes. Personally you can,
anyway. You have to. For yourself.

Who do we forgive for? Ourselves or for others? Or both? I think both.

WOW! I could go on and on and on about this, but I have other things
to do, so I am just going to stop for now.

photo by me, mary taitt