There is, when it comes to forgiveness, the fine print. It is very small, and there is lots of it. For example, how much am I going to let someone back into my life once I have forgiven them? Let me count the ways. Before any relationship can be fully restored to what it was in the past, both parties have to be in a place where they are both ready and willing. There has to be a new point from which mutual trust can begin to develop again. That point is called respect. By the same token, there is also every possibility, maybe probability that both, or one party, have moved on in their lives, so that it is no longer going to be realistic to even think of restoring the broken relationship. Lots of variables here, and one size is not going to fit all (it never does, Gentle Reader!)
For example, a woman or a man who has been in a relationship where they are being physically or sexually abused has every right to access help and support to get away from the relationship and the abuser as quickly as possible and for the abusive partner to be brought to justice. Meanwhile, no one has the right to tell her that she has to forgive him. And even if she is able to make that huge and critical step, the likelihood of restoring the relationship should remain particularly remote, because it is highly possible to forgive someone without permitting them to be able to harm you again. In fact, this is a measure that is fully and completely necessary for anyone to be able to successfully move on in their lives.
Similarly, I am now in the process of resigning from a worksite where I have had a semi-toxic relationship with the same supervisor over the past fifteen years. I actually do like this person, but as a supervisor, this individual tends to abuse power, and for me to consent to remaining in that kind of situation with him, no matter what he does or doesn´t do to express remorse or repentance, would simply be unwise and imprudent on my part. So, it's bye-bye.
I am going to bring into this conversation my own dear and departed mom and dad. My parents divorced in 1971, finalizing a long, ugly and bitter process that began when they separated legally two years before. To protect both their privacy I will not mention here the reasons for the divorce, but they were not very fond of each other for a while. Neither were they very good at being or staying married.
Adding insult to injury, an aunt by marriage, with my uncle (paternal) a fundamentalist Pentecostal Christian, sent my mother a book in the mail, just one year later,. It was all about a divorced couple reconciling and renewing their marriage vows. Mom was justifiably offended and indignant. I don't know if she ever talked to her sister-in-law, but if she did, I would have liked to be a fly on the wall, because my mother was not one to take prisoners. But the book, like my aunt, was likely going to be full of assumptions, and everyone of you has already heard that when you assume, you are making an ass of you and me.
For that matter, I couldn't imagine my parents getting back together. I certainly did not fancy having to live with my father again, and Mom certainly didn't. But gradually, over the years, they did become friends. I think they really did forgive each other. Reconciled? Well, reconcile is as reconcile does. Both had new partners, then each ended up living alone again. Still, no budge in each other's direction. But clearly they liked each other. There was respect there. They had each other's back. My parents remained good friends until when my mother died from cancer, and Dad was very supportive of both of us as she met her own end.
Some of you reading this will also be aware of some of my own recent issues with the Anglican Church. Simply put, I was not exactly asked to leave but stonewalled and then threatened by the archbishop´s lawyer. My offense? I was royally pissed that the priest in my church refused to offer me pastoral support as I was trying to put together a whole series of unsettling experiences I had while I was away in Colombia, and was uncertain that I could continue attending church. She ignored every one of my emails. I went to the archbishop. She also ignored me. I kept pestering her. Instead of offering to talk with me she called her lawyer. I told her lawyer that if I ever hear from him again I would go public about this, and as a warning shot, I contacted CBC Go Public, or, Wealthy Christian Denomination to Sue Low Income Blogger For Asking For Pastoral Support.
I do not expect rapprochement or reconciliation, simply because those people do not seem to think that I'm worth it. They have a very castist approach, and for them reconciliation is only something that their church does publicly with native people's. Virtue signaling, you know. So, no, I am not holding a grudge, because I understand that they are simply incapable of reconciling with someone who is beneath their dignity. Would I accept reconciliation? Of course, but we would have to agree on the terms, and if they don't want to talk to me, then we are never going to know what are the terms, much less agree on them.
Do I hate them? Not at all. I feel sorry for them. Middle class privilege has kept them blind to the riches of Christ, as is often the case with those who draw their paycheque from working for Big Church.
I am likely never returning to this church or denomination, but for the simple reason that this is a door that God has closed. No resentment, one of the parishioners there remains a close friend, and I am also on friendly terms with others there. But to return to the Anglican Church would be also returning to a toxic relationship, and this is where we really need to temper our expectations and understanding of reconciliation. Since the very structure of said relationship is going to be fraught with abuse and miscommunications, it is better to stay away, to wish the others well, continue to pray for them, and to hope that one day they will pull their heads out of their asses and try to reconcile with me. But I am keeping low my expectations, because it is also clear to me that they don't think I am worth it. Even though I am worth it.
Sometimes forgiving others, and moving on into a new situation happen simultaneously. Indeed they are often one and the same thing.
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