“Doh!”
The Rev. Matthew Johnson-Doyle
September 27, 2009


Reading: From The Open Grove Newsletter

There are two reasons people apologize. First, people usually apologize to make themselves feel better. This type of apology requires little skill outside of being willing to admit that you made a mistake. The second type of apology relays a genuine concern for the other persons feelings and well being. Your guilt is relieved only when your apology is genuine and based on empathy for the injured person. This type of apology heals relationships and creates genuine bonds.

If you are apologizing to relieve your guilt, and hopefully get someone off your back, stop before you open your mouth. Relieve your guilt through talking to a good friend, therapist or priest. Tell someone who really cares about you. Don’t bother telling the person you have injured. You only make things worse. Why? Because the person you injured doesn’t really care why you did something. They don’t want to hear that “kids are so mean” or “I was completely lost”. By laying out all of the reasons, and defenses, for why you injured them, you are subtly saying that it’s not your fault and that the other person should take care of you by telling you that “you’re OK”. You belittle them and humiliate yourself this way. …

The major difference between a “feel good” apology and a real apology is that a real apology begins and ends with the person you have injured where as the “feel good” apology is about the person who made the mistake. Here are the four steps to making a real apology.

1. Acknowledge the injury….A simple, “I know that I hurt your feelings”, can make a world of difference.

2. Ask the injured what it was like for them. It’s important to understand in what way your mistake injured the other person. People are very different. The same mistake can injure people in a wide variety of ways. … Open your heart to hear the actual injury.

3. Apologize for the injury. Be specific. …

4. Ask the injured how you can make it better. When we feel guilty we often desperately want to repair the relationship. In our anxiety and fear of losing the relationship, we make up ways to repair the relationship. Stop working so hard. Ask the injured what you can do to regain their trust. Most people have a clear idea of what you can do to repair the relationship. Ask them.

Follow these easy steps and watch your relationships improve. Apologies are the backbone of relationships. … Start today. You are bound to make some mistake today. Practice your new skill. You’ll be surprised at the results.

Reading: From The Human Condition by Hannah Arendt

Message: “Doh!”

Note: The sermon is an oral event. This manuscript may not reflect the exact spoken words. © Matthew Johnson-Doyle, 2009.

Promises.
Forgiveness.
We begin something.
We act.
Like an arrow shot into a blustery wind,
our actions are unpredictable in their effect,
and irreversible in their motion.
Like an arrow shot into a blustery wind,
we act without knowledge of all that will come to pass,
though we have some predictive power:
and only a fool, truly, would shoot an arrow into a blustery wind,
and think it would fly in a straight line.

So, because of the uncertainty of the world,
we make promises.
But because of the uncertainty of the world,
and because we, sometimes, fail,
those promises get broken.
We, as the old words put it, trespass.

We sin –
the word sin based on an old word drawn from archery –
to miss the mark.
From lack of skill,
or from lack of knowledge,
or because the wind, which was still when we released the string,
gusted unexpectedly,
or because we were goofing around
and didn’t pay attention to what we were doing,
whatever might the cause,
sometimes we miss the mark.
We fail at what we have set out to do.
But the consequences of our failures,
both intentional and unintentional,
have a remedy:
the possibility of forgiveness.

Promises.
Forgiveness.

These two things are bound up together.
They make it possible for us to be with others:
can you imagine living in community
without the ability to make promises,
or to forgive one another for our mistakes?
I surely cannot.
I cannot imagine a friendship that could survive such a world,
or a marriage,
or a family,
or a church,
or a town,
or a commonwealth, either.

Promises.
Forgiveness.

Theologians sometimes speak of something called “cheap grace.”
It’s a phrase made well-known by Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
a German Lutheran pastor who opposed the Nazi’s,
and was murdered by them.

Bonhoeffer says that under “cheap grace”,
“Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury,
from which she showers blessings with generous hands,
without asking questions or fixing limits.
It means forgiveness of sins proclaimed as a general truth.”

Bonhoeffer contrasts this with costly grace:
the grace which produces and requires a Christian life:
a life of service and courage,
a commitment to truth,
such that one would be willing –
as Bonhoeffer was willing –
to cast away one’s life for the sake of the freedom of others,
for the gospel as he understood it.

A central element of cheap grace
is that forgiveness comes easy.
It is “proclaimed as a general truth” –
which is to say, everyone is forgiven in advance
for everything they might do,
so long as they believe in particular doctrines.
Sound familiar? –
it should,
because it is cheap grace that is proclaimed
from every prosperity gospel,
feel-good-church in the country.

A distinction, similar to the one
between cheap grace and costly grace
might be made between
the feel-good apology
and the genuine apology.

These are related concepts.
If we believe in cheap grace,
then the purpose of the apology –
of the confession of sins –
is to get us back on the right side of the ledger,
to restore our security in salvation.
Likewise,
we often apologize because we want to feel better.
It’s all about us.
This is why the Open Grove folks say:
“If you are apologizing to relieve your guilt,
and hopefully get someone off your back,
stop before you open your mouth.”

There is such a thing as cheap forgiveness,
and there is such a thing as a cheap apology.

God knows I’ve offered each,
and I bet you have too.

We’ve all said it,
even if we felt bad about it later –
or even if we’ve mocked others who said it.

The bad apology, I mean:
we’ve all made it.
I’m sorry you were hurt by that.
I’m sorry that you misunderstood me.
I’m sorry that you didn’t think that joke was funny.

I’ve never said –
or at least, I don’t remember ever having said,
something so crass as:
I regret that anyone was offended.

The newsletter from which the first reading was taken
also had a list of bad apologies:

Like this:
“I realize that I was a really bad father.
It’s not like you came with a book.”

As the newsletter points out,
most parents do fine –
and in fact, there are thousands of books with lots of good advice.

Or this one:
“I am sorry I lied to you. I lie to everyone.”
If you are really sorry about it, you stop.

And this one:
“I am sorry you found out about my affair.
I didn’t intend for you to find out.”
That one is particularly awful,
for it makes the trespass the poor cover-up,
and not the act of betrayal.

There was also this one:
“I’m sorry I hit you.
I was drinking a lot back then.”
Excuses remove our guilt,
but they don’t excuse the behavior,
and they certainly don’t repair the relationship.

Human beings can do some horrible things to one another.
Tragic, brutal, heartbreaking things.
And the so-called apology sometimes offered
can be almost as bad as the original trespass.

The cheap apology is widespread in our culture.
It’s a result of our anxiety about self-critique,
and our sense that we’re fine just the way we are.
It’s also a result of a litigious mindset in which
one is advised not to admit fault,
lest ye be sued.
Words to that effect are printed on a little card in my wallet,
and probably in yours too:
don’t admit fault.

Sometimes, good legal advice is also good spiritual advice,
but not always.

The cheap apology works, though,
only because it lives alongside cheap forgiveness.

I have a colleague –
Sally, we’ll call her –
who is a very loving and generous person.
And she told me a story –
I’ve heard a story like it from many others,
not just ministers, but everyone –
it goes like this.

One day, Sally came into the office,
turned on her computer,
got her water boiling for a cup of tea,
looked through her mail.
There was a note in her inbox from a congregant.
It said something like:

Dear Sally,
mostly, I like the ministry you are doing with us.
but I’m really upset about your decision
to have a time for silent meditation during the services;
I feel uncomfortable sitting there in the room being quiet;
if I wanted to sit in silence I could stay home.
I don’t think you should make decisions like that
without consulting people.
I thought you should know how I feel.
Sincerely, Bobbi.

Well, Sally was hurt by this note.
For one, the worship committee had suggested this addition,
which, sure, Sally had thought was a good idea,
but she had consulted.
And it wasn’t like the whole service was silent,
it was 1 minute out of 60.
But Sally is a good minister,
and she knows this isn’t about her,
it is about Bobbi’s fear of change,
so she doesn’t let it ruin her day.

Well, the next Sunday,
Sally still invites a moment of silence.
And after worship,
Bobbi comes up to her.
Sally braces herself.
But Bobbi is friendly.
She says: “I’m sorry if that note was harsh, Sally.
I was just in a foul mood last week.
I actually liked the silence today.
So nevermind.”

And Sally is gracious,
as she always is.
She says, “oh, don’t worry about it.”

And Bobbi leaves feeling forgiven.
But Sally is still hurt.
She doesn’t know why folks can’t act more like adults,
and think before they write something mean.

The apology was cheap,
but so was the forgiveness.

I heard a discussion with an “apology expert”
the other week,
most of which was good stuff,
but one thing I found troubling
was her notion that you should end your apology
with the words, “can you forgive me?”

What are they going to say,
“No?”
Only a jerk would refuse to forgive another person,
even if they were still angry,
even the apology wasn’t genuine,
of course, people will say, “sure.”

Cheap forgiveness is the response to the cheap apology.
The cheap apology leaves room for nothing but cheap forgiveness.

This is not to say we should hold onto our hurts.
We carve the deeds of heroism and generosity into stone.
We write the trespasses into sand,
with hope that they might wash away.
That is the right attitude,
for is ourselves whom we harm
when we carry a grudge.

But notice, in the story today,
that Mussa has at least four options,
when he is struck by his friend.

One option is what he does:
write the trespass in the sand,
and hope for it to be washed away.
Mussa prepares to offer real forgiveness:
he acknowledges the injury is real,
but will let it go in time.

Another option is to hit back:
the choice of revenge,
which in our moments of passion and heat
is the path often taken.
But Mussa doesn’t choose this.

A third choice is to carve the injury, too, into stone:
to hold forever the pain caused,
to withhold the possibility of forgiveness,
to say the friendship is harmed forever.
But Mussa doesn’t choose this.

And there is a fourth choice:
to do nothing.
To accept the apology, but not write in the sand.
This would be, I think, cheap forgiveness.
But Mussa doesn’t choose this.

To write it in the sand is to write it.
It is to say,
you trespassed. It hurt – my body and my soul.
The injury is real.
But, if the apology is also real,
the amends are made,
then I shall let this injury be forgotten,
as the waves wash away the words.

Would could Sally say:
Maybe, “Bobbi, why don’t you come in
and we can talk about this some more.
Maybe you feel that it was trivial,
but I would like to talk about how we speak with one another,
even when we are having a hard day,
so that we treat each other like decent human beings.”

That might take Bobbi aback,
but it might also change the behavior.
It might be time for Sally to not wilt from conflict quite so quickly.

Maybe, in your life, you’ve been Sally:
you’ve forgiven too easily.
You’ve accepted cheap apologies for broken promises,
and let it slide.
Maybe it is time to say,
let’s talk about how we treat each other,
even when we are in a foul mood,
so that we treat each other with decency.

Maybe, in your life, you’ve been Bobbi:
offering cheap apologies for trespasses.
Maybe the trespasses are trivial to you:
but maybe they mean a lot to another.

Maybe you’ve been both Sally and Bobbi.
I have.

Now is the time to make a change.
Now is the season for turning.

Tonight, at Sundown, is Yom Kippur,
the day of atonement.
The day before Yom Kippur,
which is to say, today, right now,
is erev Yom Kippur,
is the time in which Jews atone for their trespasses against others,
and seek forgiveness.
There service which begin erev Yom Kippur
starts with the reading of the Kol Nidre,
which, set to music, the choir shared with us this morning.
It says, basically,
for those promises we make between ourselves and God,
which we are unable to keep,
we atone, and seek forgiveness.

The Rabbi’s are clear, that this applies only to the promises
between the individual and God;
you can’t atone for trespass against other persons in advance.
And you still have to try to keep the promises.

But it is recognized, in this, the highest holiday in the Jewish Calendar,
that we are human and imperfect.
Who can say, I am free, I have purified my heart?
There are none.
These are also words said on Yom Kippur:
A new heart I will give.
May we now forgive, atone, that we may live.

Hannah Arendt,
raised Jewish and a student of early Christian philosophy,
says no one can forgive themselves.
And, truth be told,
we often forgive ourselves too easily.
It is another for of cheap forgiveness:
we let ourselves off the hook,
without any remedy made to the other.

But there are trespasses we make
against our own sense of dignity,
in the recesses of our own hearts,
which no others are harmed by,
but we wish to atone for.
Religion typically addresses this concern
but making these internal trespasses God’s business,
and then we don’t forgive ourselves:
God does.

Whether or not you believe in God,
this is the season to atone:
for our trespasses against others,
we ought to make a real apology,
not a feel good one –
one that expresses our true regret,
and makes amends.

For our trespasses against ourselves,
against what is holy in our hearts,
against our highest principles,
we can atone by changing our behavior,
by accepting the new heart which offered unto us,
from our own resources
or from the spirit of life and love
which always moves in and among us.

Promises.
Forgiveness.

These are the things that allow us to navigate the seas
of unpredictability and irreversibility.
They are the things that allow us to live with and among others –
in relationships of depth,
in friendships,
in families,
in churches,
and in communities.

Without them, we would have no sense of stability,
no sense of identity,
and no ability to recover and restore
from the mistakes we inevitably make.

This is the season for turning.
To atone for our past errors,
and to seek forgiveness.
And to forgive others for their errors;
not cheaply, but with a generous and loving heart:
to write the injuries done to us
but write them in the sand.

Sally learns to say to Bobbi:
let us speak about how we can treat each other with decency.
With decency.

This being human is a wonderful and frightful thing:
to long, and hope, and love;
to grieve, to weep, to hurt;
to repair, to begin again in love.
This being human is a wonderful and frightful thing,
and in this wonder and fragility,
decency is greatly desired.
Decency – fairness, compassion, empathy for the other.
To be present in the moment.
To see the world through their eyes.
To step up and face the challenges before with grace and good humor.
To be decent.
To try to keep our promises.
When we break them, as we will,
to communicate our real regret,
and make amends.
To offer genuine forgiveness,
without grudges,
to those who seek our mercy.

With a new heart,
we face a new season,
we build a new life,
and renew the bonds of affection.

With a new heart,
freed by truth,
sustained by love,
beating for the sake of life itself,
with a new heart we face the world.

Let us enter this season,
and this time in our lives
with that spirit of genuineness and decency
that makes life on this planet
worthy, kind, and beautiful.

Amen.
Shalom.