FORGIVENESS 2 - Oct 2009
Two weeks ago I reflected upon the act of apologizing and the holiness that transpires when two people meet in grace. What I didn’t say was how I found out that I had hurt my former church member. That’s a whole different part of the puzzle of forgiveness. It seems obvious that the party that did the hurting has to know they hurt someone, yet we struggle as Jacob did with God in Genesis 32:23.
I like a midrash debate, interpretation or exegesis, as much as any rabbi. The story of Jacob and his life is a great story providing excellent material for midrash, and reflection. For those who like to read Biblical stories in novel form, I recommend The Red Tent by Anita Diamant.
The story has Jacob, having sent his family and servants across a river, left alone on the side of the river. Someone, a man perhaps, attacks Jacob. A wrestling match lasts through the night. Finally, as dawn approaches, the man, seeing he cannot defeat Jacob, strikes him on the hip, dislocating it. The opponent struggles to leave, but Jacob won’t release him, so the stranger asks Jacob his name.
There is much symbolism in a name no matter what era, and giving one’s name to another, particularly someone engaged in a fierce wrestling match, is a giving of power. Jacob gives his name and then asks the other for his name. The other does not give a name, instead asking, “Why do you ask my name?” With that, the stranger blesses Jacob.
Part of the process of midrash is conjecture. We have to make educated guesses due to gaps in information and almost total lack of knowledge on what any individual is thinking or feeling. But, in this case, Jacob’s wrestling with a stranger is almost uniformly interpreted that the stranger is God. It’s not a big leap to say Jacob is wrestling with his conscience. He has some serious issues, some involving loads of guilt and regret. He is wronged, and he wrongs others. (I suggest you read the whole story of Isaac and Jacob. It’s akin to a modern-day soap opera).
For many reasons, it’s actually easier to apologize to someone we have hurt than it is to tell someone that we’ve been hurt by them. Lately I’ve taken to the word “ouch.” I find it sums up my emotional hurt and the feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me something’s wrong. It’s not a big step to then say the word out loud: “Ouch.” The next challenge is to say it out loud to THE person who most needs to hear it. Yes, there are times when saying it to a third party can help us sort out the emotions, because another perspective can offer insights that are not clear when we’re confused by hurt feelings.
Just today I had the opportunity to call a colleague, whom I consider a good friend, to say, “Your words didn’t feel good to me. Can we talk about it?” We did talk, and cleared up our mutual confusion and, more importantly, named our mutual anxiety about an upcoming event. Turns out he didn’t feel good either and was really glad I called. Before I called, I wrestled with my hurt, and listened to the feelings in the pit of my stomach, and said “ouch.” I wrestled with my anxieties: Am I being too sensitive, will I hurt him with my words, can I just let this go, how important is this, does this matter enough to say to him “ouch”?
Each of my answers led me to pick up the phone. The dawn broke and I realized I was strong enough to overcome my self-doubt and know myself for a person of authentic truth, and passion for connection. In this way, I wrestled with God, or that which I hold as holy. My friend deserved my full respect and honesty. The holy asked me my name; I gave my power back to that which I hold as most sacred, love.
The story has Jacob, having sent his family and servants across a river, left alone on the side of the river. Someone, a man perhaps, attacks Jacob. A wrestling match lasts through the night. Finally, as dawn approaches, the man, seeing he cannot defeat Jacob, strikes him on the hip, dislocating it. The opponent struggles to leave, but Jacob won’t release him, so the stranger asks Jacob his name.
There is much symbolism in a name no matter what era, and giving one’s name to another, particularly someone engaged in a fierce wrestling match, is a giving of power. Jacob gives his name and then asks the other for his name. The other does not give a name, instead asking, “Why do you ask my name?” With that, the stranger blesses Jacob.
Part of the process of midrash is conjecture. We have to make educated guesses due to gaps in information and almost total lack of knowledge on what any individual is thinking or feeling. But, in this case, Jacob’s wrestling with a stranger is almost uniformly interpreted that the stranger is God. It’s not a big leap to say Jacob is wrestling with his conscience. He has some serious issues, some involving loads of guilt and regret. He is wronged, and he wrongs others. (I suggest you read the whole story of Isaac and Jacob. It’s akin to a modern-day soap opera).
For many reasons, it’s actually easier to apologize to someone we have hurt than it is to tell someone that we’ve been hurt by them. Lately I’ve taken to the word “ouch.” I find it sums up my emotional hurt and the feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me something’s wrong. It’s not a big step to then say the word out loud: “Ouch.” The next challenge is to say it out loud to THE person who most needs to hear it. Yes, there are times when saying it to a third party can help us sort out the emotions, because another perspective can offer insights that are not clear when we’re confused by hurt feelings.
Just today I had the opportunity to call a colleague, whom I consider a good friend, to say, “Your words didn’t feel good to me. Can we talk about it?” We did talk, and cleared up our mutual confusion and, more importantly, named our mutual anxiety about an upcoming event. Turns out he didn’t feel good either and was really glad I called. Before I called, I wrestled with my hurt, and listened to the feelings in the pit of my stomach, and said “ouch.” I wrestled with my anxieties: Am I being too sensitive, will I hurt him with my words, can I just let this go, how important is this, does this matter enough to say to him “ouch”?
Each of my answers led me to pick up the phone. The dawn broke and I realized I was strong enough to overcome my self-doubt and know myself for a person of authentic truth, and passion for connection. In this way, I wrestled with God, or that which I hold as holy. My friend deserved my full respect and honesty. The holy asked me my name; I gave my power back to that which I hold as most sacred, love.
