cthewind's Blog

The strangest gift I ever received was family silver from a couple who once announced themselves my enemies.

In their eyes I had failed them as a leader, on one of their most cherished days.

I was 23 years old, and their criticism went straight to my worst fears. But it did not end me.

They removed themselves from my presence for a number of months, and I had to get on with things, partnering with the people who were there and summoning inner strength just as strong as the deepest fears.

Several pieces of the silver are in our regular rotation, as they wished. They did not want me to save it for special occasions.

I kept the box the silver came in as well as the accompanying letter, whose truthtelling about the joys and difficulties of family life reaches me at even deeper levels than it once did. The letter did not address the enmity that had passed between us. Instead, they spoke into my life from the wisdom of their own experience of married life and life with children as well as grandchildren. They told me it would be difficult, expensive, tragic, and the best path I could follow.

Their gift looks like silver, yet the real gift is self—the only gift you can ever really give.

The “give” in “forgiveness” is a gift of self. It is a pledge of trust, a new beginning, without guarantee of return or reciprocity. It is a release of offense from the churn of inner scripts and energies.

Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation or pardon, and it does not replace consequences of hurtful action or mechanisms of justice.

It is a truth-telling moment of failure within an “and yet” moment: something can begin again.

Failing is human; it happens because humans are limited and frail—not at all perfect. Not all failure is intentional, the result of ill will. This is the hardest to face because none of the pain can be eased by blame.

In The Human Condition Hannah Arendt expresses the importance of forgiveness:

“Without being forgiven, released from the consequences of what we have done, our capacity to act would, as it were, be confined to one single deed from which we could never recover; we would remain the victims of its consequences forever.”

Her point is that, left untouched, failure can become an all-consuming story. When we fail, individually or together, the consequences can go on for a long time. So can the responses of blame and punishment.

Arendt says that forgiveness “releases” a person from consequences. She doesn’t mean that consequences can be erased. She means that forgiveness is a gift to someone that says something like, “You’ll be capable of something good again. You can do and say things of value. You can contribute. You are still part of the community.” To her forgiveness is the essential ingredient in life with other people–whether in a family, group, or nation. Forgiveness is what saves people from ruining themselves and their relationships.

Forgiveness reframes failure by acknowledging it and allowing the possibility a new beginning

“Forgiving…is the only reaction which does not merely re-act but acts anew and unexpectedly, unconditioned by the act which provoked it and therefore freeing from its consequences both the one who forgives and the one who is forgiven.”

–Hannah Arendt