Pleading for Forgiveness--in America? Really?

The Detroit City Hall drama isn't about Mayor Kilpatrick and Christine Beatty. It's about us. What happened to Christian forgiveness?

Patricia Arnold is a veteran broadcast journalist and author and the Spirituality Editor of The Daily Voice.

It seems ironic, in a nation that claims to have been built on Christian principles, a news outlet would write a headline that screams: "Detroit Mayor Pleads for Forgiveness." Isn't forgiveness the bedrock of Christianity? Christians were taught to forgive seventy times seven. That surely should preclude begging, don't you think? Or are there exceptions to the rule--and who decides?

I don't live in Detroit; I don't know Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick or his exiting chief of staff, Christine Beatty, but I do know drama. This one, fraught with allegations of sex, lies, betrayal and documented text messages, couldn't have been scripted to be more salacious or enthralling. No offense, Zane.

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the storylines that we seem to forget that whether actors are performing in Life's theater or Loew's, all that huffing and puffing, panting and sweating is designed for the audience's benefit; it's for our entertainment, education or evolution. We're the most important folks in the theater. It's all about us.

I'm not minimizing the significance of the characters onstage. They're important, but they're also incidental, and their greatest concern is our response to their acting.

When we leave the theater, we carry with us the impact of the writing, the directing, the sets, the costumes and the power of the acting. The drama wasn't about the actors themselves. I would argue that the Detroit City Hall drama isn't about Mayor Kilpatrick and Christine Beatty, either. It's about us, their audience: What did we take away from the mayor's drama? Did we find any value in it?

From the audience, we can clearly see the actors' problems--and we can solve them. We know what we would have done, what they should have done and what we never would have done. We can count on fingers and toes the valuable lessons that the dilemma offered to the characters, but applying these lessons to our own lives is another story.

I can only speak for myself, but every time I nod off and imagine that the drama is about the other folks, I miss both my lesson and my blessing. It's only through witnessing someone else's errant behavior--even if I'm the target--that I am motivated to ask: "Can I accurately describe myself as Christian? Can I forgive seventy times seven? Can I remember for just a minute that I am not the boss of anyone's karma?" 

I admit that I didn't always do that. I had to make a decision to do it. We all have that option: We can allow ourselves to be so caught up in the clowning onstage that we miss these invaluable moments to perform a reality check, a self-assessment in our own little worlds. Can we seize these evolutionary opportunities to walk the walk?
  
If Jesus admonished us to judge not, lest we be judged, why would we smirk, neck-jerk or finger point? If Jesus invited those without sin to be the first to stone a sinner, where are we in the queue? When Jesus prayed, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," it meant that we will be forgiven as sincerely, as speedily, and as completely as we forgive. If The Lord's Prayer has passed our lips, yet we want others to beg for our forgiveness, we have prayed that others will want us to beg for theirs.

Forgiveness is an act of release. It doesn't require us to embrace, endorse, like or trust those who act dishonorably. It's an opportunity to take off our victim costumes. That's why I'm convinced that all drama is about us, not the other person or what they did. Frankly, they pay a high price to help us practice being more Christ-like.

This time, it's Mayor Kilpatrick and Ms. Beatty who are unwittingly working on our behalf. They've invested a tremendous amount of time and energy on a tragedy that promises to get much worse, before it gets better. I am awed by their sacrifice, and hope that we take full advantage of the opportunity to treat them the way we want to be treated when we make major mistakes in judgment. We make them all the time--just not in the public square.

This drama, like every drama, is about us. It was always about us. It will always be about us. Sure, we can speculate whether Mr. Mayor and Ms. Beatty will be forgiven. What matters more is: are we positioning ourselves to be forgiven?

I'm beggin' ya.