A month or so ago in Ecclesia, we were studying the book of Philemon. We were looking at from three different angles. 1) From Paul’s angle, as the mediator helping to reconcile two estranged people. 2) From Onesimus’ angle, as one needing forgiveness. 3) From Philemon’s angle, as one who must forgive an offense and be open to reconciliation. All in all, it was a cool way to look at the book, which, honestly had not received much of my attention in the past. This three week series was really the most I had ever thought about this little book. It certainly is not an insignificant letter to have preserved in the New Testament, given its powerful window into real-world application of the Gospel.
During one Sunday service, we were discussing forgiveness and what made it difficult to do. The group of people I was talking to brought up how it was easier to reconcile as a child because the adults always made you do it. You know, you would do something like invade your sister’s Barbie dream house with an entire brigade of G.I. Joes, scattering grossly disproportionate plastic body parts and miniature fashion accessories around the room. (Hypothetically, of course.) Your sister cries. Mom comes in, and she says “Say your sorry for messing up Marta’s toys.” And you say, “Sorry, Marta.” Then your sister says, “It’s okay.” And it is done. Every time, like clockwork. It was simpler that way. Problems could be resolved through this simple formula. But, it isn’t that simple for adults.
As our group talked, we realized that part of the problem for adults is we don’t really know what to say when we need to ask for forgiveness. Children have the same problem, of course, but adults know it so we give them words to say. We feed them lines. It is obvious that they are not equipped to do the hard work of reconciliation on their own, so we lay out a path for them to follow. We give them prescribed words to train them how to do it. In other words, we give them a liturgy.
Let me make three observations about this childhood liturgy of reconcilliation:
First, the ritual creates an opportunity for children to do something that would otherwise be very difficult for them to do. I remember being a kid, after I did something mean to my sisters, feeling really frustrated. I usually knew I had done something wrong. I knew my sister was upset. I knew she would stay mad until something changed. But, I didn’t go and apologize. Between pride and not knowing what to say, I usually just kept playing, pretending nothing had happened. But then, when one of my parents intervened it actually felt like a relief. It wasn’t that I didn’t want reconciliation. Its just that it was hard. I needed a higher authority to step in and be the catalyst for reconciliation. In some ways, I was happy to get caught. I know this probably makes me sound like a weird kid, but I’ll bet with a few moments reflection, you be able to relate to that feeling. If not as a kid, as an adult, we’ve all felt relieved sometimes to have an authority force us to deal with things we didn’t know how to resolve.
Second, sometimes the ritual is hollow. Sometimes you just said “sorry” to get things over with, not because you really felt bad for what you had done. The words were meaningless. This can be true of all liturgies. Sometimes they are empty words that we say because we think we have to. Of course, there is always that danger with any of our actions. All ritual can be more or less meaningful, but that doesn’t mean we get rid of ritual. In past generations standing for the flag, taking your hat off for the National Anthem, and saying the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in schools were standard rituals. It was not that the people doing them had to be in the throes of patriotism every time this happened. People just assumed that if you did these things regularly, you would develop a true loyalty to your country. And for many people of the previous generation, it worked. In my generation, which placed much less emphasis on these rituals, we have a seen a decline in patriotism. Which, leads to the third observation of the childhood liturgy of reconciliation.
Third, the ritual is intended to form the child into the kind of person who can actually do the things they are expressing. Our goal in this little ritual is not to make kids say the words “I’m sorry.” The goal is to make them into people who are able to recognize and express when they have wronged someone else. The words are training wheels. They shape the children into people who can ask for and offer forgiveness. Kids who never have to say their sorry to their sister generally become spoiled brats. They don’t learn early on that they are sometimes at fault. They also don’t learn that if they ask for forgiveness, it will be offered. But, if they had the “Say Sorry Liturgy”, it might have become part of them. This is the goal of all liturgies. Rituals are meant to shape us, our thoughts, our feelings, and our actions until we become the kinds of people who mean and do the things the ritual symbolizes instinctively.
So, here are my thoughts in light of this.
- Maybe adults need a “Say Your Sorry” formula. We need a liturgy of reconciliation. There are many times when I would happily reconcile with someone, but honestly, I’m not sure how to do it. I don’t have the words. I don’t know how to bring up the topic. It is always awkward, and this is often because we just don’t have a space in our culture to ask for forgiveness. Unlike the kids, there is usually no higher authority making us reconcile, and there is no formula for doing it. It might help if there was. Maybe we assume that adults should be mature enough to do this on their own, but I, for one, am not. I could really use some help. I know that when I have made space and been given words, I have done a much better job keeping my relationships in tact. While we were dating, my wife and I had a monthly (at times weekly) ritual of sitting down and deliberately asking, “What have I done recently that has hurt or offended you?” It was a standard question and a space that made it much easier to resolve lingering issues, and our relationship progressed because we did it. Otherwise, things might have festered. What if Christians provided spaces and words for people to reconcile? What if we had formulas for the process of forgiveness? The goal would not be to reduce forgiveness and reconciliation to mere words, but to open up a space for it to happen more easily. I wonder how different our communities might be if we had a regular time and ritual for this?
- Let’s give children a good liturgy of reconciliation. If this little ritual is going to shape our kids to be able to reconcile in the future, lets make sure we train them well. Let’s not settle for “Say your sorry.” Let’s use the right words. Let’s have them “Ask for forgiveness.” Let’s make them confess and own their offenses. Let’s make the offended child offer “forgiveness,” not just say “It’s okay.” The words we use matter. Over time, they will develop a sense that there is more than just annoying behaviors and flippant dismissal. There are wrongs and there is forgiveness. There is sin and there is absolution.
- Lets not underestimate the rituals in our lives. We are all children learning how to live well. The reality is, we never outgrow the need to be given words or to have our hearts trained through ritual. Until Christ returns, we will need to train our thoughts, affections, actions, and words. This is what liturgy, ritual, and symbols help us do. It is why I say, “I love you” before I hang up the phone with my family members. It is not because we always have tender moments that inspire such words every time they call, but because regularly saying those words forms our relationships. It is why my Dad always said, “Jesus loves you and so does Daddy” every night before I went to bed, because he knew that by hearing that repeated, that knowledge would become a part of my identity. It is why I pray for my wife every morning before she goes to work and open the door for her every time she gets in the car. Rituals matter. The liturgies of our lives make a difference. The make us who we are.
I know, I know, all this is strange coming from from a lifelong low-church emerging type, but I think there is truth to it. In a society that is informal to a fault and stripped of official rituals, this may be worth recovering. At the very least, in the absence of good rituals and liturgies, we have to ask what takes their place? What are the things that form us? What are the rituals that shape us by default? These are questions for another post, another day.
