Porrige, Forgiveness & Reconciliation

by Amy

A bowl of porridge with raisins, cream and brown sugar was placed in front of the Chief. When they’d finished breakfast Beauvoir and Lacoste went back to the Incident Room. But Gamache had something he still needed to do in the bistro.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen he found Olivier standing by the counter, chopping strawberries and cantaloupe.

“Olivier?”

Olivier startled and dropped the knife. “For God’s sake, don’t you know enough not to do that to someone with a sharp knife?”

“I came to talk to you.”

All through BURY YOUR DEAD and most of A TRICK OF THE LIGHT Gamache has kept a respectful distance from Olivier. He understands that Olivier is still hurt, still blames him, and still isn’t ready to talk, much less forgive him. He doesn’t press, doesn’t crowd, and isn’t overly solicitous.

He’s decided it’s time to move on to the next step.

The Chief Inspector closed the door behind him.“I’m busy.”“So am I, Olivier. But we still need to talk.”The knife sliced through the strawberries, leaving thin wafers of fruit and a small stain of red juice on the chopping block.“I know you’re angry at me, and I know you have every right to be. What happened was unforgivable, and my only defense is that it wasn’t malicious, it wasn’t done to harm you –“

Asking for forgiveness is never easy. It doesn’t get any easier. Especially when you’re expecting the answer to be “no”. It’s not about being forgiven, though. It’s about being prepared to admit your fault, your regret, and your understanding of the other person’s right to be angry and upset.

“But it did.” Olivier slammed the knife down. “Do you think prison is less horrible because you didn’t do it maliciously? Do you think, when those men surrounded me in the yard that I thought, Oh, well, this’ll be OK because that nice Chief Inspector Gamache didn’t wish me harm? Olivier’s hands shook so badly he had to grip the edges of the counter.“You have no idea what it feels like to know the truth will come out. To trust the lawyers, the judges. You. That I’ll be let go. And then to hear the verdict. Guilty.”For a moment Olivier’s rage disappeared, to be replaced by wonder, shock. That single word, that judgement. “I was guilty, of course, of many things. I know that. I’ve tried to make it up to people. But-“

Olivier knew. He was guilty of many things. I think it is because he still feels guilty and judged and unredeemed – albeit not from murder – that he is also unforgiving. He hasn’t forgiven himself. He isn’t yet comfortable in his own skin. He understands himself. He is realizing people still love him despite his faults… He admits to trying to make it up to people, but penance is not the same thing as requesting and being granted forgiveness. He’s doing self-imposed penance. He’s making sure Gamache does his – to the extent that he is able to inflict it.

“Give them time,” said Gamache quietly. He stood across the counter from Olivier, his shoulders square, his back straight. But he too grasped the wooden counter. His knuckles were white. “They love you. It would be a shame not to see that.”“Don’t lecture me about shame, Chief Inspector,” snarled Olivier. Gamache stared at Olivier, then nodded. “I am sorry. I just wanted you to know that.”“So that I could forgive you? Let you off the hook? Well maybe this is your prison, Chief Inspector. Your punishment.”Gamache considered. “Perhaps.”“Is that it?” Olivier asked. “Are you finished?”

Gamache is reminding Olivier that he is loved. That his friends need time. He might be reminding himself, too. Olivier still needs time. Gamache has given him time. It wasn’t yet enough.

 “Do you think, maybe, we’ve ended up in the same cell?” asked Gamache. When Olivier didn’t respond, Gamache walked toward the door then hesitated. “But I wonder who the guards are. And who has the key." Gamache watched him for a moment, then left.

I think Olivier is wrong. Forgiveness doesn’t let the other person off the hook. Regret, remorse, reparation, and reconciliation might. What forgiveness does is free the victim.

Forgiveness doesn’t imply forgetting, pardoning consequences, covering up for mistakes, or ignoring past hurts. It is being aware without being wary, merciful without being inconsequential. It means understanding why you are hurt, but not becoming bitter.

Forgiveness allows to victim to become more than a victim. It empowers them.

You can forgive without being asked. You can forgive even if the guilty party is not remorseful or even trying to make amends. Jean Vanier said it better than I ever could in his book BECOMING HUMAN:

“Forgiveness is unilateral. It begins as the victim, with new found strength, refuses to seek revenge, or, as in the case of the woman in prison, prays that the oppressor may change, refind truth, and admit his evil ways. Forgiveness is then to have hope for the oppressors, to believe in their humanity hidden under all their brokenness. It becomes reconciliation and a moment of communion of hearts if and when they seek forgiveness.”

In answer to Gamache’s question, it is Olivier who holds the key to the prison. It does imprison them both, but Olivier is the one with the power. He doesn’t need Gamache to get out of the prison that is an unforgiving desire for revenge – even if the revenge is limited to withholding forgiveness and friendship. He doesn’t need Gamache’s willingness to make amends or admit his guilt in order to choose to free his own heart from the burden that is hate and rage.

Forgiveness is not the same thing as atonement. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you are ready (or willing) to trust the person who hurt you. It doesn't mean there is no price to be paid. It does mean you’re ready to shift from the place you’re in.

While guilt and remorse can be devastating, hatred and blame-placing can be just as difficult to bear. 

Both are useful. Without consciousness of guilt and true regret, there can be no change and no growth. It is essential to recognize when you’re wrong and be willing to do something about it or, if that isn’t possible, to at least express your regret and willingly chose to tread a different path in order to not repeat your mistakes. But that’s not the victim’s job.

Anger and accusation have their place. It is not uncommon for people to blame themselves and feel ashamed for things that are not their fault. It is important to recognize and understand justified anger. It is healthy to feel it. But at some point, it is necessary to let it go. Holding on to anger and casting blame might hurt the oppressor – if they’re conscientious enough to recognize and regret their behavior (as was Gamache) - but, ultimately, the one who is most hurt is the one who is withholding forgiveness. Olivier held the key to his own freedom from this prison.

Forgiveness is not reconciliation. It is not a willingness to submit to further hurt. It is not naïve or blind placement of trust. It is not ignoring what happened. Forgiveness is willingness to believe that while there is evil in the world, there is also grace. Forgiveness is choosing to believe that maybe, just maybe, the person who hurt you may learn their lesson. They may change. They may do better next time. Forgiveness is letting yourself know that while it hurt (and, depending on the hurt it may leave a scar) it doesn’t have to remain a gaping wound. Or, as a friend said in an email, “while it will mark you, it doesn’t have to define you”.

And, again, I will quote Vanier. He says there are steps to forgiveness. He describes them as: “(1) refusal to seek revenge; (2) genuine, heartfelt hope that the oppressor be liberated; (3) the desire to understand the oppressors: how and why their indifference or hardness of heart has developed, and how they might be liberated; (4) recognition of our own darkness. We, too, have hurt people and perhaps have contributed to the hardness of the oppressors; (5) patience.”

It sounds hard.

It is hard.

Forgiving isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy to forgive ourselves. It’s not easy to forgive those who ask for forgiveness. It’s even harder to forgive those who don’t.

“But I wonder who the guards are. And who has the key.”

Olivier had the keys to forgiveness. It was his to give. But the key for reconciliation was in Gamache's hands.

“Reconciliation is a bilateral affair; it is the completion of the forgiveness process, the coming together of the oppressed and the oppressor, each one accepting the other, each acknowledging their fears and hatreds, each accepting that the pact of mutual love is the only way out of a world of conflict.” (Becoming Human – Jean Vanier)

If Gamache hadn’t been humble enough to acknowledge that he may have made a mistake. If he hadn’t been willing to try to repair his mistake (by asking Beauvoir to reopen the investigation). If he hadn’t tried to make amends. If he hadn’t recognized Olivier’s right to anger and apologized for his part in contributing to his pain. If... Reconciliation was only possible because Gamache was willing to do his part.

In this story, things end up working out well. Gamache forgives himself – although he does have relapses and will probably forever be haunted, to some extent, by his perceived mistakes (some of which no one else blames him but himself). Olivier forgives Gamache and, in doing so, opens the way for reconciliation. A slow, careful, tentative approach, but reconciliation nonetheless.

And, as Olivier slowly forgives himself, he allows others to forgive him, too. He is enfolded back into the community. Changed. Scarred. Different. While I do not wish his pain on anyone, I think he is ultimately better for having overcome it. I think he is stronger, more empathetic, and a better friend afterwards.  I do know, as he does, how painful it is to come to terms with the parts of yourself you wish weren't you. Forgiving yourself can be a painful process of self discovery.

I do not know your pain. I only know my own. But I doubt anyone has lived any amount of time without something to forgive. I don’t know who hurt you, how much, or how close the hurt is to you right now. I do not know if those who hurt you are repentant or even willing to nominally ask for forgiveness. I do not know if reconciliation is even a possibility.

There’s a little bit of Tinker-Bell in all of us, isn’t there? I cannot find the quote, but in the original Peter Pan, Barrie wrote that Tinker was so small that only one emotion fit her at a time. Kind of like a toddler. If she felt anger, it took over her entire self. She couldn’t fit anything else.  Or, as Frankl put it in MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING:

“To draw an analogy: a man’s suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the “size” of human suffering is absolutely relative.”

I pray that any hurt or pain we have doesn't become the entirety of our soul. I pray that we allow ourselves to feel, to hurt, to rage, to grieve... and we manage to let go, eventually, and regain other emotions.

I pray that we all find a way to use the keys we hold. May we learn to forgive – even if we do not forget. May we find grace so bitterness doesn’t take over our hearts.

And I pray that when we have hurt another, we face our own darkness. I pray that we find the humility needed to admit our fault and try to make amends. I pray we forgive ourselves and don't let those mistakes become the sum total of our lives.

As I wrote this, there were incidences piling up in my mind. Mistakes of my own that I have been granted forgiveness for. Hurts inflicted on me that I have learned to forgive. Helping my son journey through school bullying and even minor, unintentional hurts. Teaching (and learning) compassion and understanding.

I was also thinking of people I have never seen. People with hurts that are more far-reaching than mine. People whose lives, like Olivier's, changed much more drastically and publicly than mine ever has. People who might be stuck in this kind of prison. People who are role models.

I've been contemplating this post for awhile. I didn't think I was ready to write it. Maybe I was. One of the things that triggered writing it was finalizing my son's book (more below). He managed to explain forgiveness and boundaries. Another was a series of sexual assault stories that have come to my attention the past couple of weeks. Some of these stories are closer to me, personally. Some happened geographically close and have been all over the news with devastating ripple effects. One has been very public in North America. As I read the victim's statement, I was awed by her strength and by her grace. After reading her words, I have a hard time thinking of her as "victim". She's a survivor. She's a warrior. She's incredible. Admirable. I'm not denying her strength. I'm applauding her bravery. In her own words:

Right now your name is tainted, so I challenge you to make a new name for yourself, to do something so good for the world, it blows everyone away. You have the brain and a voice and a heart. Use them wisely. You possess immense love from your family. That alone can pull you out of anything. Mine has held me up through all of this. Yours will hold you and you will go on. 

I believe, that one day, you will understand all of this better. I hope you will become a better more honest person who can properly use this story to prevent another story like this from ever happening again. I fully support your journey to healing, to rebuilding your life, because that is the only way you'll begin to help others. 

Link to full statement 

Her words are powerful. I pray I have her grace and wisdom when facing those who hurt me. I pray I take these words to heart whenever I hurt someone else. If the hurts are apparently smaller and less significant, they can be lessons. Stepping stones. A chance to be faithful in little.

Porridge

It might be fitting that porridge is the meal that precedes this conversation between Gamache and Olivier. When I started reading about porridge I was SHOCKED! Apparently porridge is a “thing” now and there’s even a porridge club! Who knew? The internet is full of gourmet porridge options as well as people saying “true” porridge is made with water, oats and salt.

Porridge is a forgiving dish. It accepts plenty of different ideas and options and modes of preparation. I made a very “basic” (although not purist as in water, oats, and salt) recipe of oats and skim milk (1:2 ratio) with a tiny tiny sprinkle of salt halfway into cooking it (I had NEVER added salt to my porridge, but after reading about it and realizing almost everyone did – with many variations regarding when and how and how much salt was added – I decided to try it. I realize the Gamache’s porridge had raisins. I like raisins while they’re dry. I can’t stand "re-hydrated" raisins. I added some grated apple and some sliced raw almonds to mine. I hope I won’t be condemned for adding a bit of cinnamon and a sprinkle of brown sugar as well.

Now that I know there are almost as many recipes of porridge as there are people in the world, how do you make YOUR porridge?

And… for those of you who aren’t on Facebook and aren’t aware of my not at all subtle mentioning of my son’s first book, I’ll add the link to the end of this post. His book is about feelings, about being hurt, about forgiveness… but also about boundaries and standing up for yourself. I’ve said before in this blog that being his mom has taught me a lot. The wisdom in his little book awes me.

Link to the book, in case anyone is interested: Heart & Brain

All quotes – unless stated otherwise – are from A Trick of The Light.