Blog
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When forgiveness is possible
This is one
of my favorite times of the year, when Yom
Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, calls me
to atone for my sins from the past year.
Everything stops, and a new sense of
possibility emerges. But in order to atone, one
must engage in forgiveness – asking others
for forgiveness, and forgiving yourself. It is
the latter part I want to focus on: What it
means to forgive yourself.
On New Year’s Eve many of us make “resolutions” for the coming year. We vow to exercise more, visit our parents, or pick up a new hobby. We make these resolutions with gusto, only for them to flag a few weeks or months into the New Year. But Yom Kippur is not about looking ahead so much as it is about looking back; the task is to see how we’ve done in the past year and to account for our actions, words, and deeds.
What’s clear in all this is that no one can be perfect. There’s no way for everything that we do to hit the mark. But nor is there a place to hide from our imperfection; unless, of course, you choose to ignore the call to examine your life. For me, there is only one answer to this call: “Here I am.”
Forgiving yourself can be a very slippery slope. Our goal can be to go through the motions of religious services or rituals so we can wipe our hands clean and forget the past. But to forgive ourselves is not about forgetting – putting these things out of sight and out of mind. That approach is a sure recipe to repeat past mistakes. On the other hand, forgiving ourselves is not about holding ourselves hostage to the past. Surely, we must move on, especially if we want to make ourselves and this world a better place. There’s much work to be done.
As I write this I fear that I am trivializing something so vitally important by oversimplifying it; but, then again, aren’t some of the most important things the most basic? Isn’t that why these things often are the most difficult to face and engage with?
This is true in communities as well. In so many communities, people, collectively, sometimes will not face the past or account for their words and actions. Instead, things remain mired in finger pointing, inaction, and stymied by ingrained narratives that tell us we cannot or will not change. Here, too, the task is not to forget the past, minimize it, or pretend it never occurred; nor is it to be held hostage by it. The task is to step forward, see and hear that which has shaped our past and ourselves, and make the choice to move ahead.
It is the very notion of making “judgments” and “choices” that is so essential here. Will we choose to look back at the past and have the courage to truly see it? Will we make judgments about where we stand, and our own role in bringing us to this point? Will we actively choose our path moving forward? Will we have the humility to know that there is no silver bullet to improve the future, only that we must stay engaged?
I love Yom Kippur because it holds me accountable for examining the past even if I did not shape all of it. I must be willing to look at it, understand where I am, what I have done, and what I still need to do. I cannot simply blame others for my current circumstances. It reminds me that I cannot sit on the sidelines. I must answer the call. -
September 11th - Where has it gone?
I don’t know about you, but for me, September 11th came and went as a “national day” without much notice this year. And yet, personally, this day will forever be ingrained in my own consciousness, as I lost my college roommate in one of the World Trade Towers. I can’t help but wonder about our nation’s response to losing Frank and other innocent bystanders on that day.
Each year since September 11, 2001, we, as a nation, have engaged in the ritual of remembering those who lost their lives, and declare our re-commitment to fighting terrorism wherever it may dwell. Maybe because of the recent health care debate, or other distractions, this year the 9/11 rituals seemed to gain little traction. Tell me, did I miss something? I often wonder if we have squeezed out the meaning from this day – with all the speeches, declarations, seminars, press conferences, and the like. What do they add up to?
This year, the president even declared 9/11 to be a National Day of Service, the culmination of a Summer of Service. But what service, with whom, about what, toward what end? I saw the proclamations and the news articles, but I didn’t hear or see much about the service itself. Even if small actions did take place, which I believe many did, the National Day of Service did not permeate our collective consciousness. In communities, and in the nation, we didn’t turn in a new and meaningful direction toward service. Our nation is not changing because of the National Day of Service. Was it anything more than a one-off event?
It is change, and not simply more activity, that I seek. I have not lost the memory of that ugly day, when I watched from my study, the first Tower, and then the next, get hit and implode, falling to the ground, as one person after another leaped from the sky hoping to find a safe resting place. But they didn’t. We know the story all too well. Like my buddy Frank, they called their loved ones, left messages, and then jumped or disappeared inside those towering infernos.
Now, still less than a decade since that frightful day, we find ourselves enveloped in two wars, arguing bitterly about our own hand in torture, with a sitting president being called a liar in the House chamber. We then declare a Summer of Service – and then a National Day of Service – hoping to heal the wounds and to call us to something larger than ourselves, only for that to turn into a “nice” effort but not an essential one.
And yet, for me, the question I keep retuning to during this time is, “What is essential for us to do?” By that I mean, what should we be focused on? What truly matters? What will make a real difference? I don’t ask these questions merely as a rhetorical device, but more in terms of how we might turn toward one another and engage in an honest conversation about what we should do.
I don’t have easy answers for any of these questions, and I refuse to pretend I do by listing off here a catch-all prescription for the nation. Not this time, at least. I can’t get Frank out of my mind, and on this day I don’t want to diminish his death by offering up silly or shallow solutions.
Instead, I want to remember Frank by calling myself back to what matters. It is never easy, nor without pain. -
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Representative Joe Wilson calling
President Barack Obama a “liar” during the
president’s health care speech last week is a
sign of a coming inflection point in U.S.
politics and public life. But brace yourself,
Wilson’s comment in only the tip of the
iceberg. So be it, this inflection point
can’t come soon enough. I think it’s all
for the good.
I watched President Obama’s speech on TV and was dumbfounded when I heard Representative Wilson call him a liar. Had I ever heard such a thing before? Did I hear what I think I heard? Indeed, even before his outburst, the noisy and rambunctious chamber sounded more like the British Parliament than the U.S. Congress. It felt like at any moment things could spiral out of control.
But in people’s haste to condemn Wilson, we shouldn’t lose sight of a bigger issue. Wilson’s outburst is yet one more sign that our political discourse has run amuck, that it’s producing very little value for the American people or the country. The health care debate is anything but a debate – filled with endless mudslinging, demagoguery, innuendos, half-truths, and blind partisanship. Let’s be honest, these are coming from all political sides!
I’ve watched the Sunday talk shows as senators and governors and others studiously tick off their talking points, slamming their opponent, but never joining the debate. They’ve become automatons, slinging rhetorical arrows at one another, seemingly devoid of any concern for the damage they do. I say “seemingly” because I actually believe many of these people (perhaps almost all) care deeply about the country, and would even like to see a health care solution as well as progress on other key issues.
But for now things are spinning out of control and we’re headed for an inflection point, a crisis point that demands our attention, for the current course can no longer sustain itself. I’ve written about such inflections points before. It is at such places we can either choose to face up to the forces at work, and in doing so propel ourselves forward in new and productive ways, or try to diffuse such forces, even avoid or go around them.
Wilson’s “liar” comment takes us yet another step closer to the edge of impropriety in our society, and our political leaders know that. And yet, just beneath the political maneuverings over whether he should go to the well of the House to apologize, or even be sanctioned, are more contentious and tough issues. Many people believe that Wilson’s outburst was a sign of racism. Whether or not it was, I feel, as many others have, a growing undercurrent of this discussion in recent months; only look at the Cambridge incident between the Harvard professor and the local police officer for yet another data point, and there are many others.
Moreover, the anger we’ve seen in the town halls is not the ordinary stuff of such public sessions. I listened to a recent town hall held by Senator Mark Warner of Virginia and I was stunned by people’s treatment of him. He is a right-leaning Democrat, a legend in Virginia politics, known for his even-handedness, and a very decent man. One individual after another rose up to pull him down, shout over him, and even belittle him. I had to stop my car on the side of the road, listening in disbelief, utterly dismayed by what I heard. This can’t be what we want.
But let’s be clear, there are real forces at work here in terms of our political discourse, and they are bringing things to a head. That’s my point. And when they do, you and I and others face a fundamental choice. Will we say, “Enough is enough,” or will we shake our heads in disappointment, only to walk away? Will we write letters to the editor, comment on blogs, and stand by political leaders like Senator Warner? Will there be an outcry for the president to “strike back against his enemies,” no matter the situation, or will we use this moment to encourage him and his Republican counterparts to demand better political discourse.
One last point: at such an inflection point, the most courageous people are those who stand up and say, “We must go in a different direction, let’s go.” They are the ones who help to set out and create new conditions. They are the ones who choose not to cast aspersions and half-truths, but to clarify and connect. They are the ones who, when people yell, “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” rise and say, “You’re wrong; there is no place for schoolyard antics here.” -
The leaders we need in a nasty time
Amid the rising anxiety and anger vexing Americans today, I wanted to write about what it means to lead in this nasty environment. First I thought about focusing on the president, then congress, or corporate leaders; but each time I started, I found myself veering back to one person in particular: my high school tennis coach, who just won a national award for his exemplary leadership, and who has some lessons to inspire us all.
There are more than enough examples these days of challenges of leading in a nasty world. But anything I would say points me back to Rich Johns, a real life example of a genuine leader. Last week, Rich won the Starfish Award given out by the United States Tennis Association, for his “no-cut” system of high school coaching. Every kid who comes out to play is on the team. But that’s only the beginning of the story.
First off, don’t misread how or why he won the USTA award: he’s no pushover. Lesson #1, He loves winning, and he’s not afraid to say so. Indeed, he’s one of the most demanding people I’ve ever known. His teams (both girls and boys) win religiously. Lesson #2, he expects each player to leave everything they’ve got on the court. He will settle for nothing less than highly competitive play. I’ll never forget the season I played number one singles for him, and during one match I got sick and was hit by heat stroke. I didn’t want to quit, and nor did he ask me to. Instead, he laid me out on the cool shower-room floor, doused me with water, and then talked me into going back on the court to finish and win the match. He doesn’t like to lose.
But then there’s Lesson #3: he expects fair play at every turn and he brooks no one crossing the line. I’ve seen him argue firmly and openly with other coaches about their players’ cheating; and I’ve seen him take on his own players for the same. To him, there are some rules that should never be broken because they strike to the very heart of what it means to have integrity.
Lesson #4 is that he expects his players to play with respect. He’s a legend in my hometown for this, and it’s something he’s fast becoming nationally known for. Rich implores you to fight your hardest, but always treat others with honor and dignity. These can be difficult notions to hold simultaneously. But the bottom-most player deserves the same respect as the top dog. Everyone participates; no one sits courtside. No excuses, ever. You show respect for others, and you learn to respect yourself.
What does this have to do with the national scene today? Two keys I want to mention here. First, in sports, as in politics, and in all parts of life, we need more leaders like Rich Johns. You always know where he stands, and he always speaks clearly so you can hear him. He doesn’t hide, flinch, or retreat. What he values is crystal clear. What’s more, what he does is not about himself or his own aggrandizement; rather, he seeks to advance a cause larger than himself (in case, the life and growth of kids). And in pursuit of this cause, he is never dogmatic, always open to working things out. And yet, if it comes down to compromising his core principles, he’s willing to lose and play for another day. We need more leaders like Rich.
Here’s the second key: when you find leaders like Rich – whether they’re athletic coaches or politicians or someone else – let them know that you value and support them, even if, or especially when, you do not agree with them. Too many leaders are getting undercut in these nasty times. Please, sit down and write them a letter or email today to let them know! When we see good leaders, we must stand by them.
So, for me, thanks Rich Johns, for being my mentor and friend since 1974, when we first met, when I was only 14 years old. Thank you for being someone I look up to, stand by, and love with all my heart.