I’m going to laugh again: reflections on the journey of healing through forgiveness

 This morning I found myself on the highway headed for St. Andrew’s, Wellington.  As I drove down that road, (as is often the case when I have quiet driving time) I was carefully going over the various points for my Sunday Sermon.  

Out of the blue, an old memory entered my mind.  In my early years of ministry, I attended a big diocesan event with the Ladies’ Guild of my parish that was held at the Diocesan Cathedral.  As the event was wrapping up, our group realized that a few of the Ladies had wandered off and were nowhere to be seen.  We began to search for them so that we would be able to catch our bus back to Cambridge on time. 

All those great times of joy in the ordinary things of life.

Suddenly, the lost appeared from behind us.  When they told the story of their search for the rest of the group, they simply said, “We just followed the sound of Fr. Don’s big laugh.”  The memory came back with a smile, but then the thought struck me that in the last year, I really haven’t laughed very much. In fact, I’ve spent much of the last year angry, and I can’t even remember the last time that I had one of those moments of cathartic laughter.  I have felt wounded, betrayed, abandoned, but joy and laughter have simply not been a part of my experience of the past year. My next thought was, “I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

At Señor Frog’s in San Juan Puerto Rico with good friends and loads of laughter

Granted, it has been a difficult time.  It has been almost a year since my ministry took a very painful turn.  I’ve said throughout that time, that through this pain I was feeling, my faith held on unwavering.  I realized this morning that this wasn’t entirely true.  For a year, my faith has struggled, because I was allowing my own anger to shut down a piece of my soul; to shut down that piece of my soul that I enjoy the most; that part of my faith life that included joy and laughter.

This kid has been able to make me laugh since she was tiny.

That cynical part of my brain quickly answered back that it’s fine to say that I don’t want to be angry anymore, but how do I make that happen?  In that same moment, the dam broke, and the gospel words that I was preparing a sermon on finally made that long journey from my head to my heart.  The road to being whole again for me, is the road called forgiveness.  

Stephanie’s first communion. Happy times with folks who are like family.

Perhaps most of those whom I might identify as having hurt me deeply, don’t even know the level that I have felt wounded, or even that their words or actions contributed to that wound.  Many of those who do realize that they have played a part in the great pain I have gone through likely don’t care that I have been angry with them.  My anger has done nothing to them, but what it has done is rob me of a whole year of living the joy of my faith, and that is far too high a price. Sadly, it is a price that I have chosen for myself through this entire year though.  

Some of those with whom I have been angry have

On board a ship on formal night, after perhaps blowing the budget on Sint Maarten

reached out to me during this year, and I fear have often received very curt replies. It seems that I have had so much hurt within myself that I always had an abundance to share with others. For this, I am sorry, and ask for forgiveness. I came to realize at the heart level, a truth that I have long known in my head, that I need to forgive, not because those others need it, but in order to heal my own soul; to find the peace that leads me back to joy.

In this priestly vocation there are words that are used to assure the world of forgiveness.  They are the promise and assurance of God’s forgiveness, but if God has forgiven already, who am I to remain angry?  So, “May Almighty God, have mercy upon you, pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and keep you in eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” And even as I let go of this woundedness, please pray for me, a sinner.

But I want to laugh again.