Sunday Meditation: Love Your Neighbor as Yourself! Do You Keep a Record of Your Past Wrongs?

At Mass this morning I was thinking about 1 Corinthians 13. One of St. Paul's admonitions about love emphasizes that it doesn't keep a record of wrongs. Obviously, if we keep a record of wrongs about our neighbors, we are likely to build walls against them and even stud the walls with the barbed wire of grudges and desire for revenge. To not keep a record of wrongs, we need to foster the virtue of forgiveness.

As I was meditating, the thought came to me that I keep a long litany of wrongs against one person -- myself. I remember and repeat to myself over and over all my past sins and mistakes. I think of all my failures: as a daughter, a sibling, a wife, a mother, a friend. That litany plays in my mind over and over along with the if-only mantra. If only I had done this instead of that. If only I had left that situation or given a hug instead of a reprimand. What an awful person I was. And, since I can't change anything in my past, how awful a person I still must be. 

It occurred to me that I need to stop repeating that litany of wrongs against myself. It can only harm my spiritual life Obviously I can't stop the thoughts from coming into my head, so what do I do with them? I decided I will make each thought a thorn and weave myself a crown of thorns to offer to the Lord and unite myself to Him...being ridiculed, spat upon and vilified -- to turn each "wrong" into an offering to place on the altar asking God to burn all my sins an offenses as an offering of love (The Imitation of Christ). 

My sins and faults have been and continue to be confessed, and I know at the judgment that "the accuser" will not be able to throw my repented sins in my face. Maybe it's time to stop picking up dirt from the past and showering in it.

Love does not keep a record of wrongs! We are called to love our neighbor as ourselves. If I keep a record of my own wrongs, how can I not be tempted to store up all the wrongs of my neighbor. And that is the deep taproot of an unforgiving spirit.

Several weeks ago, Father shared a true story in his Sunday sermon from the early days of the Roman persecution. I wish I could remember the saint who told the story and the names of the characters. But really, it's a story of the human condition.

Two friends, one a Christian and one a pagan had a falling out. Later, the Christian was arrested for refusing to worship the pagan gods. As he was being led to execution, his pagan friend came, fell at his feet, and begged for forgiveness. The angry and bitter Christian refused. When he arrived at the place of execution, he abandoned his intention of martyrdom and apostatized. He lost the grace of God that would have provided the courage for him to remain faithful, because he refused to forgive his friend. No doubt that was the mercy of God. Was final unforgiveness of his friend the sin against the Holy Spirit? He obviously needed more time to repent rather than hearing the words of the Our Father from the mouth of God. "I will forgive you as you forgave your friend."

Forgiveness, like charity, begins at home. We need to forgive ourselves for not being perfect, for sinning against God, for failing our loved ones (We all do!), for falling again and again. 

Think about it. What arrogance it is to think that God can forgive us, but we can't forgive ourselves. Are we greater than God? I want to convert my litany of wrongs into a litany of thanksgiving: Lord, thank you for forgiving my unfaithfulness to You. Thank you for forgiving and forgetting when I... (fill in the blank). Turn my record of wrongs into a record of gratitude. 

Keeping a record of our wrongs leads to the three Ds of depression, discouragement, and despair. Keeping a record of gratitude leads to hope and happiness. It invites us to rejoice with the Lord in the dance of life.

Which will we choose? It is, after all, a choice.

Lord of the dance, have mercy on us.

Our Lady of hope, pray for us.