I have felt terribly ripped between my faith and my feelings. My faith tells me to forgive, and my feelings tell me to hurt. My faith tells me to let go of my anger, and my feelings tell me to get even.
I am torn, and yet the Gospel is very clear. We pray to God, who is father and mother to us. God is personal and intimate, and calls us to be a likeness. But it is terribly hard.
Last Friday, I attended three memorial services. At each one, the word "remember" was spoken or sung, and all I wanted to do is forget; but my faith won't let me forget. My faith calls me to look at this tragedy squarely and forgive, and yet I cannot without a wrenching knot in my stomach.
In all the tears I have cried since Sept. 11, however, I have made a decision as to how I am going to live out this mess. I have decided that faith is not something that I have, but something that I do. It is a verb, an action word, and as such it is a process. The word "journey" as cliched as it has become, nevertheless, sums it up very well. I am "on my way," as the old Spiritual goes. And, since forgiveness is part of faith, I am on my way with that, too.
To forgive is a pledge to let God turn my stony heart into a heart of flesh, even though I find some satisfaction in that heavy rigidity right now. I have decided that it's not about whether or not I will be angry, but how I will deal with my anger. If anger is a kind of energy then how will I direct it? Towards destruction or creation? Will I let it destroy me or re-create me? I have decided on creation.
I thought of the Palestinians, Afghanis, Pakestanis, and the people in Northern Ireland and central America that have never known a day of peace in their lives. Those are places where children hear the sounds of jet engines over their heads and breathe air scented with gunpowder and burning debris. I have decided to live with an open heart and listen for God wherever He chooses to reveal the mystery of His unconditional love and forgiveness. I have decided as a disciple of Christ, who is the light of the world, not to give into darkness.
(The author ministers at Our Lady of Grace parish in Ballston Lake.)