I’d like to share a family story with you. It was late summer, just before the start of school, and my two young children were inside playing with Legos.  It was a gorgeous day out and I entreated them to join me outside while I took 15 minutes to plant two small mums on either side of the front door.  They insisted that they’d rather keep putting together their Lego creations, so I grabbed the trowel, watering can and mums and started digging.

Just as I was tapping down the dirt and ready to sprinkle some water on the plants, my two children opened the front door, mischievous glee spreading from ear to ear on each of their faces. They were soaking wet.  They said, “We made Water Country!”  I dashed through the door to find water coming through several places in the living room ceiling and, coming through the light fixture in the kitchen. I felt the carpet squish beneath my feet as I reached the top of the stairs to investigate the rest of the damage. To my horror, I discovered that my children had stoppered up the bathtub and bathroom sink,  turned the spigots on full blast and let the water overflow while they exuberantly slid around the bathroom floor. They had made their own mini version of Water Country. 

Points for creativity I guess, but I was not amused. Actually I was a raging lunatic.  I told them both to go to their rooms and shut the doors before I did something I would regret for the rest of our collective lives. Before I went into full-on FEMA flood management mode, I called my spouse who was working in Boston.  I told him that if he wanted to see his children live to see another day, he’d better get on the next train home and help me.  He dropped everything. And just when I thought I couldn’t possibly get any angrier, he arrived, surveyed the scene and said to me – wait for it- “Why weren’t you watching them?” I lost  it. I opened my mouth and pure fury came out, it’s a wonder it didn’t blow the clothes right off his body.  I didn’t talk to him or the kids for the rest of the day and went to bed that night still fuming. Forgiveness did not flow like water.

Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight. (Sirach 7:30) On that day I certainly didn’t want to let my anger go. Fortunately, the Water Country episode was fixed with the help of an insurance adjuster and some contractors. But there have been other times when a relationship has felt irreparably damaged and I’ve experienced tenaciously deep and justifiable anger and hurt.  I’m sure you can remember a time when you were so angry you couldn’t see straight and you couldn’t let that anger go because it felt righteous, despite what harboring the anger did to your psyche and body. I’m guessing we’ve all experienced consuming anger at one time or another, the kind that clouds judgment, causes sleepless nights, distracts us at work and feels like it is literally eating at our insides. Maintaining that level of negative energy becomes unsustainable and downright unhealthy.

The first reading from Sirach  poses the question, “Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD?”  The bottom line here – No matter how justifiable our anger might seem, we have to forgive and let it go. There is no healing for the heart when anger has taken up residence there. Because of that, Jesus tells us in the Gospel that we can’t put a limit on how many times we forgive, even if someone hurts us in the same way over and over. 

God desires that we be in right relationship with one another. We hear it in the story Jesus tells of the king who took pity on his servant. Yet when that servant didn’t extend the same understanding and compassion to the man who owed him, the king locked up his servant until the debt was paid. Jesus says, “So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.” In essence, this Gospel is another version of the golden rule – do unto others. We must forgive others because we all desperately need to be forgiven. We even say it in the Lord’s Prayer: forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. 

There are different paths to forgiveness. Sometimes, it is simply letting go of one’s anger and nothing more needs to be done.  Other times, when the offense is great and the relationship important, restoration is necessary. We must work together to repair and restore the bond that has been broken. This requires a journey of truth telling, accountability, forgiveness and restitution. 

In addition to extending forgiveness, how do we take an active role in redeeming the relationship when we are the ones who have caused harm?  I recently read an interesting piece on penance by Barbara Brown Taylor. She writes: 

“While Jesus may have done the hardest work for us, some of us still long for a way both to engage the consequences of our sin and to have a hand in repairing the damage we have done. We want to participate in our own redemption, instead of sitting … while Jesus does all the work. We want to be agents of God’s grace.

“Just for a lark, imagine going to your pastor and confessing your rampant materialism, your devotion to things instead of people, and your isolation from the poor whom Jesus loved. Then imagine being forgiven and given your penance: to select five of your favorite things—including perhaps your Bose radio and your new Coach book bag—and to match them up with five people who you know would turn cartwheels to have them. Then on Saturday, put your lawn mower in your trunk, drive down to that transitional neighborhood where all the old people live and offer to mow lawns for free until dark. Discerning sinners will note that none of this is standard punishment. It is penance, which is not for the purpose of inflicting pain but for the much higher purpose of changing lives by restoring relationships.”

Holding on to anger and refusing to forgive closes off the path to healing, even if our anger is justified. And dispensing forgiveness becomes easier when we dispense with needing to be right. As Richard Rohr states, “Every time God forgives—seventy times seven, apparently—God is showing a preference and capacity for sustaining relationship over being right, distant, superior, and separate.” Forgiving love is the only way to restore balance. Flawed, foolish, and at fault, humans exist within a never ending cycle of needing to forgive and asking to be forgiven, seventy times seventy times seventy times. Mercy, by God’s definition, is limitless.

Is there a relationship in your life that needs to be repaired? Are you the one that needs to forgive or needs to atone? Or maybe both? Do you need to let go of being right? What small step can you take in the week ahead that will bring you closer to the restoration your heart craves?

Getting back to the Water Country story, in case you’re wondering, my family survived and we forgave one another. Most importantly, after that episode, neither my husband nor I ever blamed one another for anything our children did, a practice we’ve wisely maintained for over 30 years.