Inhabiting the threshold between injury and pardon
Considering St. Francis' famous prayer, line by line
Where there is injury, pardon;
This third line of St. Francis’ prayer is a difficult one for me. The extent of difficulty depends on whom I’ve injured: I don’t have as much trouble apologizing when I’ve overreacted or said something unkind to my son as with my husband. Maybe my ego is less invested in hardened stories about our relationship, the sort of stories that begin with “It’s not fair. . . ,” or “You always. . . ,” or “You never. . . .”
I’m fascinated that these next five lines of St. Francis’ prayer do not include a verb. They rely instead on the implied “sow” from the second line, Where there is hatred, let me sow love.1 We’ve had a rich conversation in the comments about that humble little verb, sow.
wrote,reflected,“Here I'm caught by the metaphor ‘sow.’ We never sow and harvest in the same season. . . . It seems like a reminder to that we won't see results in this world of struggle right away. That doesn't mean we're doing it wrong.”
observed,"I am the sower and the sown, God's self unfolding, and God's own."
“We are always sowing, aren't we? By where we put our attention. By what we share. By our action or inaction. By our response to heartache and fear. By our openness to generosity and love.”
I wonder if the poet in St. Francis delighted in sow’s subtle reverberation while the word pairs muscled in with their challenge to integrate opposites.
When my son was little, I studied Marshall Rosenthal’s Nonviolent Communication, which appealed to me for its methodical approach and lack of judgment. He teaches that conflict arises from someone’s needs not being met. We can diagnose that in ourselves when an encounter creates a strong emotional response. A feeling of sadness, frustration or anger, then, isn’t wrong or selfish, as I was taught as a child. It is, rather, an entirely natural and reliable guide to one’s inner state, which is produced by an unmet need in the outer world.
I had a steep learning curve right from the beginning, due to ignorance of my own emotional state and, further, my needs. With practice, it became a kind of treasure hunt, which revealed new information and led to compassion—for myself and the other person. Even for a novice, it can lead from “It’s not fair” to “My need for autonomy (or connection) isn’t being met,” from judgment and blame to vulnerability, awareness and honesty.
Blame obstructs pardon. Seeking and sowing pardon invite expansiveness, an opening to imagination and connection, rather than aligning behind a story that hardens with the telling. Blame is a wall, pardon a threshold into possibility.
Often, I injure those closest to me out of unthinking shorthand behavior, as happens when I’m tired or impatient. To be fair, I must also set aside a childhood of conditioning that ignored feelings and needs altogether, in favor of ultimatums, control and “should.” When a trusted elder (such as a parent) sends you to your room for being too emotional, you quickly learn to shut down that part of yourself, to ignore and distrust it. Even to hate it.
To admit to having wronged someone requires humility and inner strength to carry me through self-judgment to compassion. In a way, I am seeking pardon both from the person I wronged and from myself for my thoughtlessness or cruelty. My own stories and actions, then, are a threshold between inner and outer worlds, between the unseen and the visible. Rumi says it all here:
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.
Today, I will hold the awareness of dwelling in the both/and of injury and pardon, as an invitation to feel my interconnection with everyone I meet. My actions, whether hurting or healing, reverberate in the space between us, binding us together.
Let me be an instrument of community
A big, autumn-morning-redgold-light-filled thank-you to everyone who has joined with me to consider this marvelous prayer. Many of you expressed deep personal connections to it, including fond childhood memories. I love that St. Francis touches the childlike wonder in all of us. Your reflections expand my appreciation for the mysterious balm of community in troubled times. Some highlights:
Exercising my ability to live in the tension of opposites, and trust their balance, is a lifelong journey. This definition of prayer sounded a lot like poetry, and therefore felt more accessible to my mind. It had me reflect on my own journey and relationship with prayer, and it was so good to look back and see that arc. a conversation and connection with self and the larger, deeper world (including that which can not be seen). I found myself meditating on the terms instrument and channel this morning. The idea of being a thing through which the spirit/breath moves.Had a lovely conversation with
about protest, including the same article a friend had just sent me from a new-to-me organization (don’t you just love synchronicity?). Such a powerful and simple idea but so elusive. relayed teaching her child that When you do something kind, show a little love, the world becomes a more lovely place, a little kinder, a little more bearable. related meeting two Franciscan monks in his travels: Both were in situations that were very difficult and uncomfortable, but both had a spirit of serenity and joy that was contagious.Read the introduction to this series here:
The first verse, Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace, is considered here.
The second verse, Where there is hatred, let me sow love, is considered here.
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Considered in this post
Love your phrase, "the mysterious balm of community in troubled times."
This series just gets better and better. I love this close reading of St. Francis's grammar (assuming the translation is fair to the original) and the elevation of "sow" as the verb to live by. I'm going to go find something to sow today. Francis gives us so many choices - there's something for just about any occasion. :-) To "sow" love or pardon is not to "perfect" it in one go. Francis sets the bar nice and low for us mortals.