On Love and Forgiveness

Last week I wrote a post based on my reactions after watching the 1978 move Same Time Next Year. A reader took issue with my reflections, apparently thinking I was condoning adultery. I read his or her comments just before going to prayer this morning and have had several hours to prayerfully reflect on this subject.

I want to stress that my post was not meant to condone adultery – which I think can have some very painful results. Adultery leads to a loss of trust, fractures relationships, and maybe worst of all, leads people into a place of guilt and self-hatred that distances them from God: “How could God ever love or forgive me after what I’ve done?”  That, I think, is the definition of sin: how much it destroys our relationships with God, ourselves and others.

My thoughts were based more on my (most of ours, I imagine) tendency to judge other people so quickly. Because that, too, I believe distances us from others and separates us from God. We are in essence putting ourselves in the place of the only One who is qualified to judge us. As Jesus said in Luke 6:37: “Do not judge others, and God will not judge you; do not condemn others, and God will not condemn you; forgive others, and God will forgive you.”

The Book of Exodus recounts God giving TEN commandments to the Hebrews but we all seem disposed to focus only on the one dealing with sex. There are NINE other commandments. There’s that one about keeping holy the Sabbath (in the very unchurched Northwest it might be one to reconsider). There’s the coveting your neighbors’ possessions. We’re all pretty good at doing that coveting thing.  There’s that one about having no other gods; what about all of us who worship at the altar of consumerism, who desire more money, more material goods.  And what about taking God’s name in vain? There are plenty of sins out there, enough that we could all be spending most of our time pointing fingers at each other.

There is a lovely and thought-provoking essay in this week’s issue of America Magazine, Forgive Us Our Debts : What Victor Hugo Taught Me about Justice (http://www.americamagazine.org/content/article.cfm?article_id=12919). In it, Jesuit Fr. William O’Malley, who teaches at Fordham Preparatory School in the Bronx, reflects on the difference between justice (following the rules) and Christianity. He cites several examples from Jesus’ life in which Jesus seemed to go out of his way to be present to people society viewed as terrible sinners. The example that leapt immediately into my mind this morning, before reading this article, was Jesus dealing with the woman caught in adultery, John 8:1-11. When the “teachers of the law and Pharisees” brought the woman before him for judgment, he refused to condemn her. Instead, he reminded them that none of us is without sin and so none of us had the right to throw stones at others.

 

The article recounts the episode from Les Miserables in which Jean Valjean has stolen silverware from Bishop Bienvenu, but when he is brought before the Bishop, instead of being forced to return the stolen property and receiving retributive punishment, he is magnanimously forgiven: “Ah, my brother,” the Bishop tells him. “Here you are! How is it you forgot I gave you the silver candlesticks too!”  O’Malley points out how this treatment is not what we consider justice; it’s foolishness. It’s like rewarding the sinner. Kind of like the father throwing a party for his prodigal son.  

 

O’Malley reminds us that “Christianity’s two overriding laws are not strictures but limitless invitations, and its sole determinative assessment of one’s life at the end is not about conformity but about attentive kindness.”  Love God and love your neighbor. It’s about loving each other, and leaving it to the only One who truly has no sin to throw the first stone.  Whether those stones ever fly is something we may never know and maybe don’t ever need to know. For myself, I’m learning what a difficult journey it is to not buy into society’s expectations for blame, punishment and retribution. It is so easy to give in to my ego needs and prove how good and worthy I am by pointing out someone else’s failings, much more challenging to learn to follow Jesus’ example of loving sinners, a category that includes every one of us whether we like to admit it or not.

On Love and Love Affairs

Last night I decided to watch an old movie that has some meaning for me. Same Time Next Year came out in 1978 but I didn't see it  until six or seven years later when I was taking classes for my degree in Communications. One of our professors seemed to like Alan Alda; during his psychology classes we watched that movie and The Four Seasons. Granted, there is a lot to learn about the human psyche from both movies.

At the time, being married for 15+ years and having two small children, I was aghast that two people could have that kind of on-going relationship on the side and still maintain relatively good marriages. And not absolutely die of guilt; or at least feel so guilty that you confessed your sins to your spouse and . . . all hell would break loose. That was back in my innocent and more judgmental days (my prudish, puritanical days), before I'd experienced some of life's less-than-gentle touches. Back then I believed things were supposed to happen in certain ways, rules had to be followed, and any aberration, any exception, any crossing the lines was wrong wrong wrong! And if you behaved correctly, life would be smooth and you would be happy.  It was only when you crossed the line that life got difficult. Right . . . did I mention I was very naive back then?

The movie came up in conversation with a friend a couple years ago, and I'd been thinking it might be interesting to see it again so when I found it on NetFlix, I decided to add it to my queue. Last night I watched it.

Turns out I am now much more disposed to viewing George and Doris in an accepting and even positive light. I could see value in their relationship and perhaps better understand that you could love someone and still have a healthy, happy marriage to someone else.  Granted, I'm still not convinced affairs are good for anyone, but I know and accept that they happen. Obviously, according to the news, they happen far more often than we are willing to admit. And I've learned it's not my responsibility to judge the people who have them. Because they are humans, and we all have our moments of failure, our times when we are less than we know we should be. As a good friend of mine is fond of saying: Life is messy. And, I would add, it can be damned hard and painful and filled with suffering. So who am I to question where anyone finds joy or peace, a few moments of bliss? And perhaps, with life experience, I better understand that love should be treasured whenever and wherever it happens.

At least as depicted in this movie, perhaps that once-a-year touch of freedom was enough to keep them going through all the challenges of married life.  It gave them something to look forward to each year.  And maybe that's what kept it going so long: being able to look forward to spending a weekend with someone who truly listens to you, treasures you, wants you, someone who is willing to devote all their time and attention to you. What's not to love about that? In the day-to-day work of living life, running a household, careers, children, paying bills it is easy to lose sight of the tender, passionate feelings that first brought you together with your spouse. It's easy to get so busy with "stuff" that you forget to really pay attention to your life partner. I do wonder if George and Doris had ever married whether their love and passion would have been sustained. And if, instead of meeting each other, they'd taken an annual "passion weekend" with their spouses that would have made their marriages fulfilling enough.

But they were perhaps more sympathetic as a couple because it wasn't as if either of them was off having affairs with lots of other people; it was more than just sex, physical, another conquest or a fling. It was, strangely, a commitment to each other that they kept for more than 25 years. An odd love story, but a love story, all the same.

With all the infidelity of famous people in the news lately, it's easy to get on our high horses, point fingers, be judgmental and "holier than thou." I just can't go there. Perhaps my life experience has taught me that our lives don't always follow convention, that love is where you find it and, from my perspective, finding real love can be a very difficult task. I've learned you can love someone deeply and, unlike Gorge and Doris, never be able to physically consummate that love. But ultimately, it's the love that matters: wanting what's best for the other, and accepting that "best" may preclude you from ever really being part of their lives. And, at the same time, remembering to love and be kind to yourself. Perhaps that self love is what helps you see the path of love for others most clearly, helps you make the right choices for all.

So, do you suppose George and Doris are still meeting on their little Northern California rendezvous? Nah, after 60 years they would likely be in their 90s and their bones probably got too brittle for passionate embraces long ago.  But I suppose one could say they lived in the moment, the now, and for one weekend a year they were able to let go of everything else and just focus on each other.

Dream a Little (or Big) Dream

What would you do if you weren’t doing what you’re doing now?

Ever think about what else you might be doing with your life? Is there something better suited to your personality, skills or desired life-style? I’ve had this discussion several times the past couple weeks with friends and family. They love parts of their jobs, but the jobs also can be very stressful and sometimes drive them crazy. They have shared with me some of the frustrations and dreams that lead them to question current career paths. But they have been in their respective jobs long enough that the pay and benefits would be very difficult to give up. The job has become a security blanket that they are reluctant to leave, almost a golden chain. In today’s economy I can understand the reluctance to leave a well-paying job, especially when you are the sole support and have no on else to help with finances and insurance.

I think it’s easy to become trapped in a situation: job, relationship, community, even our own thoughts about ourselves. Change is difficult and takes a great deal of courage. There is comfort in the familiar, even when the familiar isn’t very comfortable.

I don’t have the issue of being unhappy with work, since I am retired—though that has its own frustrations and difficulties sometimes—but I do sometimes have difficulty moving on. I shared with a friend last night my sadness about a group of friends I’ve known for many years, but I have never felt like we were the right fit. There is always an awkwardness there and I usually leave gatherings feeling much smaller than I know I am. Being with this group feels something like owning a really pretty dress I bought years ago but one that never did fit me right. I keep it in my closet, pull it out occasionally, admire it, try it on, but then just hang it back up. I have grown and changed so it fits even less well than when I first acquired it. For some reason I have trouble letting go and moving on, despite having many other clothes that fit me much better and that I feel much more comfortable wearing. Okay, enough metaphor: you get the idea.

My wise friend suggested that maybe this was really more than I needed to deal with; that perhaps I shouldn’t try to keep up friendships that aren’t life-giving, no matter how many years those connections go back. She isn’t the first to share that wisdom. And this isn’t the only time I have been unable or unwilling to let someone in my life go, even when they no longer fit, if they ever did. Maybe I’m just stubborn, or maybe I need the security of saying I have lots of friends when the truth is I have many acquaintances but only a handful of truly good friends whom I know I can rely on, who support me and are there for me when I need them, and who let me help when they need me.

I think about my reluctance to leave an organized religion that doesn’t always (or even often) feel all that helpful, supportive or right. I think about where I live; I’m not sure it was the best choice for me, but I’m also not sure what would be better. Family closer would be better . . . I think. I think about commitments I’ve made that have long since “expired” but I just keep doing them because people expect me to and I don’t want to let people down.

In conversation with family members last week, we talked about finding your “bliss,” or at least work that would be more life-giving. We talked about—of all the crazy things—starting an Irish pub in Southern Oregon. In many ways it would be perfect for a gregarious, friendly group of siblings who love to cook, sing, be creative and entertain. It was a life-giving idea . . . at least for me. Being with family, welcoming people into our little corner of the world, creating a fun, vibrant place that celebrates our heritage. But there are so many challenges . . . I’m sure it will never happen, especially with a group of people who are as risk-resistant as we seem to be. And as broke as we always seem to be. Still, it was fun to brainstorm, dream, come up with some alternative things we might do with our lives. And I think it was helpful for my siblings to have a little dream time-out, to really think about ways of living that might be more life-giving, less stressful. Kind of like taking a vacation without leaving home.

It’s okay to dream, and it doesn’t cost anything to dream big. In fact, sending those dreams out into the Universe, visioning them, can lead to fulfillment. Just be sure you’re willing to let go of that security blanket if the opportunity to follow your dream surfaces.