Apology vs. Explanation

I feel the need to preface this, because confession/penance/forgiveness/apologies/reconciliation (need I go on) are ever-changing, fluid topics of research and conversation for me.  As I pause to write this very non-academic post, I am concurrently working on the prospectus for my dissertation, which will also delve into this topic, because it just will not let me go.  But I’m not coming at this from the perspective of an aspiring expert today.  No, I’m coming at it from the perspective of a fairly exhausted mama of tweens, teens, and young adults, the morning after the National Quiz, with a new puppy sleeping near my feet, even though he won’t let me sleep any longer, on this Saturday morning.  If you’re looking for some of my best theological writing, please (I reiterate, please) go look somewhere else.   

But also… as I began to put this piece together in my mind, it occurred to me that judgments could easily be made about my positions.  Things like, “This doesn’t sound like the Lisa I knew in 1987 or, “L, I don’t think that’s what you would have said in 2015,” or, “Mom, this doesn’t square with who you were last year.”  Well, thank goodness!  One of the beautiful things about being human is we have the ability to change and adapt and grow.  Here’s to hoping that change is for the better.

Something I have been thinking about a lot, lately (in the past week but also over the past several years) is the way we are so often “sorry.” 

I’m sorry I ate the last cookie.

I’m sorry I can’t come in to work today.

I’m sorry your feelings were hurt when you didn’t understand what I said.

I’m sorry you feel that way, at all.

I’m sorry I feel this way.

I’m sorry I stepped on your toe.

I’m sorry I yelled at you.

I’m sorry for what I said when I yelled at you.

I’m sorry I ever met you.

I’m sorry your mom died.

I’m sorry I can’t help.

I’m sorry I’m taking up so much space.

The list goes on… and on… and on… and it is already nuanced before we say another single word.  And yet, we often say the next word anyway, to clarify… to explain… to soften the blow… because we can’t shut up… for whatever reason.

I’m sorry I ate the last cookie, BUT you had more than me yesterday.

I’m sorry I can’t come in to work today, BUT I’m sick.

I’m sorry your feelings were hurt when you didn’t understand what I said, BUT it’s not my fault.

I’m sorry you feel that way, at all, BUT I’m not willing to help you process your thoughts.

I’m sorry I feel this way, BUT I can’t help it.

I’m sorry I stepped on your toe, BUT you were in my direct path.

I’m sorry I yelled at you, BUT you wouldn’t listen any other way.

I’m sorry for what I said when I yelled at you, BUT it was true.

I’m sorry I ever met you, BUT let’s just part ways now.

I’m sorry your mom died, BUT at least her suffering is over.

I’m sorry I can’t help, BUT it’s just a bad time right now.

I’m sorry I’m taking up so much space, BUT my ideas are really important.

As relational beings, we have this unsatiable desire to explain our behavior, and there are certainly times when an explanation is appropriate and certainly times when an explanation is more appropriate than an apology… especially if we are not actually sorry.  Not all the statements above are conducive to this kind of restructuring, but some are:

I ate the last cookie, because I thought it was fair, since you had more than me yesterday.

(I am not actually sorry I ate the last cookie, so this is a more honest admission of what happened.)

I am sick, so I will not be coming in to work today.

(If you love your job, this may be regrettable, but you are still probably not sorry.  Perhaps you are sad or frustrated.  Being sick and subsequently taking care of your health is not something for which to apologize.  #EndTheRatRace)

I stepped on your toe!  Are you OK?  Would you like me to get an ice pack for you?

(I acknowledge that I caused pain, even if it was an accident, and would like to make it right if I can.)

The things that do not require an explanation (or apology) often fall into one of two categories. 

Things I said, did, or felt that did not cause harm to others but for which I am being held accountable unfairly:

My feelings are legitimate.

My voice at the table matters.

 

Things I didn’t do (and in which I am in no way complicit): 

Enduring the death of a loved one is so hard.  Please let me know what I can do for you (or even better, I’m sending dinner over on Tuesday, or I’ll be there to do your dishes this weekend, or I’m here to listen).  As a caveat, I realize it is the norm in the English language, in the United States, to say “I’m sorry” when someone dies.  I certainly do this myself, all the time.  I think the word “sorry” in this case actually means something completely different, and it is appropriate.  It means, “I mourn with you,” but I recognize a lot of people would find it very odd if we actually said, “I mourn with you.”  You have to take the temperature of the room and do the best you can to find the most comforting words when dealing with grief, and that is a completely different conversation for another day, I suppose.

But what about the things for which we should actually be sorry?  I think this is the trickiest part of all, and I think the best thing to do is to keep it simple and focused on our own culpability and legitimate sorrow.  When we know precisely what we have done wrong, that looks like:

I’m sorry I hurt you when I did not communicate clearly. 

(puts responsibility on the person who did the hurting, not the one who was hurt)

I’m sorry for the hurtful words I said.

(also, I’m sorry for the hurtful thing I did… and if you know what that thing was, name it)

Sometimes, we don’t know exactly what we did:

I’m sorry for the ways in which I have hurt you.

(If you desire an ongoing relationship, you might also follow this with something like, “I would love to sit down on your terms in order to listen to your narrative and to find a better way to communicate/relate moving forward, if that is something you would like.”)

There is also something (maybe a lot of “somethings”) very important to be said about reconciliation, and it begins with acknowledging that sometimes it cannot happen (maybe you’re legitimately sorry for something that happened years ago but the other party is no longer alive or you cannot find them) or will not happen (the other party has moved on or is not willing to engage in the hard work of reconciliation either because they have been hurt too deeply or they have their own guilt/shame over being partly responsible and are not as sorry as you are) or should not happen (particularly if it could put either party in danger).  But I sincerely believe that if two (or more) parties are willing to reconcile, it can be done, and I also believe it is possible for this to happen over the whole spectrum of relationships, from one-on-one personal connections all the way down the line to tangible systemic change (which is another one of those subjects that deserves a post, conversation, book, or entire library of its own).

I also believe that all of this starts with honesty.  As I already mentioned, apologies (like pretty much all language) are nuanced the moment the words begin to form on our lips.  Be clear about yours.  Be real about whether you are issuing an apology or an explanation and be honest and specific about what you are sorry for.  There is a huge distinction between being sorry for what you have done, being sorry for the consequences (including the hurt of others), and being sorry you got caught.  These are three very different things, and it is OK… even ethical… to verbalize which kind of sorry you are. 

I recently saw a statement which (paraphrased) said something to the effect of, “unless there is a change in actions, there is no apology.”  I think this is partially true.  If you are sorry for something you have said or done, the natural progression of things would indicate that you would no longer do or say those things.  But there are times when we make choices that have hurtful consequences regardless of what we choose.  We may be legitimately sorry for the harm caused to others knowing full well that we would make the same decision again, given the opportunity for a do-over.  We can be honest about that.  I think we have to be honest about that.  There are other times when we can be part of making changes that create a more loving, equitable world, even if we were not directly culpable for the offense at the onset.  I don’t know if we can be sorry about the consequences of other people’s actions, but I do know we can work to find remedies in order to stop the perpetuation of those consequences!  Whew!  I know, I know, it’s hard enough to take responsibility for the stuff we’ve actually done, but as long as we’re thinking along these lines, we might as well go all the way!  And that third one… if you’re really just sorry you got caught… maybe you should stop being sorry.  Maybe you did exactly what you intended to do.  And maybe that’s even OK.  Undoubtedly, it’s better to own it than to fake it

L.       

Does Confession = Repentance?

I’m piggy-backing a little bit on today’s post at These Ordinary Days, because as I consider the sacraments, confession has risen to a highly elevated place of importance in my life, yet I think I may have neglected to tie this in well with repentance.

I want it to be a ‘given’ that when we confess—personally, communally, and systemically—we are actually sorry enough to turn away from our sin and turn toward something better… someone better…  Jesus… redemption…

I’m not sure I’ve always been great at that, though, and I wonder how many others might share this struggle.

Confession, on its own, is difficult.  To say, “I was wrong, I’m sorry, and I love you,” is to be vulnerable in all kinds of ways that bring discomfort to humanity.  Ooh…  Have a song:

The Catholic Catechism speaks to the sacrament of forgiveness in this way, “the sacrament of Penance offers a new possibility to convert and to recover the grace of justification” (1446).  Oddly enough, Protestants don’t seem to grasp this as so salvific in nature, and I’m not entirely certain why.   

Coming from a Wesleyan viewpoint, it actually makes perfect sense that we should confess our sins, contritely, as often as we are aware of them.  For I surely hope that we have left in the past the idea that sanctification is synonymous with literal perfection.  None of us has arrived.  Interestingly, the Catechism seems to tie this need for penance directly to the very working of the Holy Spirit in lives and hearts.  Perhaps to be sanctified wholly (holy) is, in part, to recognize our continuing need for confession that leads to penitent action.

Language matters, and these are some words I think we should use more liberally:

Contrition: “Sorrow of the soul and detestation for the sin committed, together with the resolution not to sin again” (1451).

Confession (disclosure): “Through such an admission man (woman, child) looks squarely at the sins he (she) is guilty of, takes responsibility for them, and thereby opens himself (herself) again to God and to the communion of the Church in order to make a new future possible” (1455, parentheticals mine).  

Satisfaction/Penance: “One must do what is possible in order to repair the harm” (1459)… “It must correspond as far as possible with the gravity and nature of the sins committed” (1460).

This concept of a new future together overwhelms me, almost to tears.  After all, isn’t this what we ultimately hope for as the Kingdom of God continues to break into our lives? 

May we recognize our wrongs, prompted by the Holy Spirit, and may we make them right again, by grace.

L.

Community of Confession

I grew up thinking faith was private, sin was private, and confession was definitely private.  I can't begin to recount how many times I heard that the Catholic Church had it all wrong.  A priest could not forgive sins.  If confession was happening between people, it didn't even count.  Confession was all about telling Jesus you were sorry and then getting on with your life.  Well, I'm not so sure that's the way it works, anymore.

I was surprised to find that the Catholic sacrament of penance actually has four parts!  I was having a hard enough time dealing with confession, but let's add contrition, satisfaction, and absolution to the mix, while we're at it...

Contrition is the first step.  You have to be sorry, but not just flippantly.  You have to be so sincerely sorry that you hate the sin, regret it, wish you hadn't done it.  I think this is the kind of sorry that hurts, and then in addition to this grief over sin, you have to want what is right.  You have to want God, and you have to believe that grace is going to cover this thing.  I just have to be honest.  I don't think most of us get past contrition on a regular basis.  We can get so bent out of shape about confession without ever even getting to that point.  And by "we", I guess I mean "me", because I can only speak for myself.  But let's just say we get there.  In most Protestant denominations, contrition fulfills the requirement for forgiveness.  It's over.  done.

Confession exposes us.  I think that's what is really at the heart of our disdain of confession.  Even writing about it in a public forum makes me a little bit nervous.  Will someone read between the lines?  Will I get "caught"?  I wonder if refusing confession is more about pride than anything else.  It certainly seems that we are terribly concerned about being open, honest, and transparent.  It's so much easier to create facades and build walls, only allowing others to see the perfect people who we wish we were.  Confession requires community.  That can be difficult to navigate.  You can't confess to just anyone.  It's not an off the cuff kind of thing.  This is deep, often painful.  It can only be done intentionally, in relationship.  And let's face it, sometimes relationships that run that deep are pretty hard to come by.

I think we might be more comfortable calling this accountability, from a Protestant point of view.  I have to be honest, though, I'm not sure that really cuts it.  I can't begin to tell you how many times I have had someone say to me, "I want you to hold me accountable," only to get angry when I've tried.  I also can't tell you how many times I have said to someone else, "I want you to hold me accountable," only to realize that I actually don't.  Even for someone who is dreadful at lying, and I am, dishonesty is sometimes the easiest route. 

But let's just say, again, that we get there.  Let's just say we find another human being, or even a group of people with whom we can be real.  Confession begins to happen, and then we are left with a need for satisfaction.  In essence, this is the part of penance where we make things right.  In the Catholic Church, it appears that this is often accomplished through a series of spiritual disciplines.  Well, how amazing is that?  What better way to turn from sin than to fill our lives with things that draw us closer to God?  I love that part!  But, I have to tell you, the idea of satisfaction also caused me to consider the necessity of making things right with others who have been hurt by our sin.  That's more difficult, because it creates the need for more talking about it, more doing something to bring restoration, more relationship.  As an introvert I stop and think to myself, "How much relationship can I handle?"  Maybe it's better just not to sin.  Oh, wait...

In all seriousness, though, making things right can be exhausting.  Believe me, I know this firsthand.  Even so, it's worth it, and I think it might possibly even give us a glimpse into the redemptive work that God is doing in the world. 

Which, is really what living sacramentally is all about, right?  It's recognizing that God is doing something and then joining God in that work.

In the Catholic tradition, it is my understanding that the priest is the one who bestows absolution, but it doesn't appear to be quite the way I imagined it as  a Protestant.  From what I can understand, the priest prays and essentially says, "May Christ absolve you".  I feel like I have been misled to believe that Catholics seek absolution from a priest, when really they seek absolution from God, just as Protestants do.  It is true that the priest then absolves the penitent person from any consequences his or her sin might require, within the church.  I think we, as Protestants, could learn something from that, as well.

And what does God do?  God redeems... and redeems... and redeems...

What a process. 

I set out to answer some questions, and now I think I just want to ask some, myself.  Such as:

How can I better incorporate this kind of confession, this kind of penance, into my own life?

Where are the safe communities in which to practice confession sacramentally and corporately?

And, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, (will you) have mercy on me, a sinner?" (The Jesus prayer, parenthetical, mine).

L.