“…go first and be reconciled with your brother…” – Matthew 5

Next week is my class on reconciliation and salvation. I think they will teach me how to do my first confession, and Lent is chock full of reminders to become reconciled. In addition to the verse above, there is also the Scripture about the plank in your eye. I had to hear that one three times before I understood what it meant. I interpret it as another way to say ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

One of the biggest problems I had as a teacher was forcing kids to say they were sorry when they hurt another child. I would never do it. What’s the point? They don’t mean it. I felt it was always better to explain to them how the other person felt and ask them what they thought about it. Nine times out of ten they apologized on their own or made some other gesture that expressed sorrow. I’ve tried this with my own kids to limited success. You have to model and hope it sticks.

I am also a grudge keeper; was. It’s a short list, but a fist-clenching one. Over the last few years, before I found my way to the church, I began to change. Not so much more forgiving as much as letting go more. I cannot express to you the positive change in me. Letting go of the grudges took so much anger out of me; anger that I didn’t know I had. It was just lying there barely below the surface, and it was a relief to be able to say that it wasn’t that as significant as I was making it out to be. It should not, and would no longer have a stranglehold on me. It didn’t deserve that much power.

Just as Lent started last week, I sent out three emails. I still have one to do, perhaps more than that. Two of them were an attempt at reconciliation. I’m waiting for a response from one, but for me the point wasn’t a response. The point for me was to express where I thought the trouble was and how I wanted to fix it along with a regret for where we are. I hoped as I re-read them that it wasn’t one of those I’m sorry if you were offended apologies. I don’t like those. It has nothing to do with if you thought you were offended; it was that you were offended. Or hurt. Or insulted. Or anything that was felt by the other party.

The other email sent was one that I don’t send often enough; the expression of how much someone means to me. I don’t often say it to all of the people who deserve it. I pray daily for a select group of people. They have their individual slots when the Father recites the intercessions. I’ve decided to continue to do emails like this one as signs point to certain people. Again, it isn’t for the satisfaction of an answer, it is for me to know that I’m expressing my gratitude in ways that I should do outside of Lent.

Of course, I get angry. Everyone gets angry, but now I have perspective. One of my problems with thinking about forgiveness is my long memory. It is a curse when there are things you want to forget in order to forgive and can’t get rid of them, but I still try to put them aside, and for the most part, I can do that now. I credit two people in addition to my walk with Jesus and G-d.

It was a long time coming, but in the last three years, I’ve found it a much better path to travel. My peace benefits everyone around me. I’m less likely to jump on every word, I think before I speak, and I let things go that are so inconsequential they shouldn’t bother me in the first place.

Lent is a time for me to think about who I want to reach out to, whether I’ve treated them badly or not as good as I should have. It allows me to think about how I approach things and gives me the chances to fix them, to adjust my thinking. It lets me appreciate and show my gratitude for people who are there for me who I don’t thank as often as I should. I think of them often. I’m grateful to them. I ought to say it more often.