Philippians 3:12-13
Graham Greene was a great English novelist, and among the many wonderful books he wrote was a slim volume called Monsignor Quixote. It’s about a priest who is traveling with a companion, someone with whom he does not always agree. They have very different beliefs and somewhat different values and a lot of “discussion” about these differences. One morning, after a night of heated disagreement, his companion comes to the priest to apologize about last night. Father Quixote says he has no idea what he is concerned about, for he hasn’t any recollection of whatever they discussed the night before. “I am trained to forget what I am told,” he says. Even when it’s not in the confessional? “It’s much easier for a priest to treat everything as a confession. I make a habit of never repeating anything to anyone – even to myself, if possible.”
Most people, including his bishop, seem to find Father Quixote to be rather simpleminded. Others might recognize in him a childlike wisdom. He is certainly unusual.
I don’t believe I know anyone who makes a practice of forgetting. Most of us are a little obsessed with remembering, especially as it gets harder and harder as the years go on. Our ability to retain things is increasingly challenged, as our mental filing cabinets get overly full and disorganized. So we try vitamin supplements, crossword puzzles, brain-boosting foods, and other tricks.
Remembering is a worthy goal, I’m sure you agree. It is good to remember all the happy times in our lives; it’s good to remember the successes, and even remember the failures for the sake of knowing what we did wrong and trying to avoid doing it in the future. Remembering where we have been, with hearts of gratitude, will surely help us determine where we are going.
But you know all that, don’t you? We talk enough about how great remembering is. How about forgetting? Is there a case to be made for forgetting?
The Apostle Paul seems to think so. In his letter to the Philippian church, he speaks of forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. For him this meant forgetting the old things he used to believe were important and putting all his efforts into knowing and growing in Christ.
One thing we should know about this: it was probably one of the last letters Paul wrote. This was a letter written late in his life. There was a great deal behind him, which he was choosing to forget for the sake of what lies ahead of him. Probably not something you would expect from a man in the twilight of his life, sitting alone in a jail cell. What is there to do but to reminisce about the good old days? Yet, even at this stage in Paul’s illustrious career, he makes a strong case for forgetting.
For everything we remember there is also a way in which we would be better off to forget it. Allow me to suggest three things.
Forgetting the ways in which we were wronged. It is a temptation to remember every slight, every offense, every abuse we have suffered. Some of us are very good at holding grudges. We seem to think remembering these things will somehow bring balance to the universe – or at least, maybe, protect us from ever suffering such an insult again. There’s that old saying: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
And it is not altogether wrong that we should remember the offenses, for the sake of being aware of how we can be hurt. Jesus advised his disciples to be wise as serpents – be wise to the sinfulness and the dangers of the world in which we live.
But at the same time, he says, be innocent as doves – to remember what is good and pure and worthy of our time and effort. It is too easy for memories of past wrongs to poison our minds and hearts. So, to the extent that you are able, forget the wrongs of the past. It will free you to live in the present and move unencumbered into the future.
I always remembered those words of Monsignor Quixote more than anything else in the story, because it explains so much about the Father – why he walks around so sublimely happy so much of the time! Happy are those who don’t remember the ways they have been slighted, cheated, or offended by others, for they shall be content. They shall have the gift of living in the moment.
Forget the ways in which you have been wronged and be at peace.
Forget, also, the way things are supposed to be. We all know how things are supposed to be, and this will cause us more grief than we care to deal with. More arguments are caused by people who know how things are supposed to be than anyone or anything else. I haven’t actually researched this, but I’m saying it anyway because it feels true.
I don’t think I need to remind you of the seven most exalted words in the life of the church: We’ve never done it that way before. Or its close cousin: This is how we’ve always done it. I would bet that every one of us has said these words at least once. And while it can sometimes be helpful to know how we have always done it before, it’s also a way of closing off possibility, imagination, even just conversation. The problem with doing things the way they are supposed to be done is that things actually change: the world changes – everything in it changes. And the truth is we don’t know how the Spirit will be at work in our lives; we don’t know what God has in store for us. When you think you know how things are supposed to happen, you close your mind to the possibility of how things might unfold.
Forget how things are supposed to be and look for the way things are.
Finally, let’s forget our successes. Now you’re thinking, “what?” Why in the name of all that is good would we want to do that? This can be a harder sell.
Sometimes when we are going through a difficult patch, it is helpful to remember other trials in the past. To remember other times when we faced challenges that seemed insurmountable, yet found the resources to get through it and thrive. To recall how we found strengths we didn’t know we had, and maybe even were better for it. Remembering these things can give us courage for the problems we face now.
But remembering can also get in the way. Sometimes remembering our successes can keep us from finding the path God is leading us toward this time. I once worked at a church that was having a hard time getting youth involved. There was growing anxiety about the situation. And I began to notice something happening. I was hearing the same sentiment expressed by many people: If we could just have SALT again!
SALT was the name of a youth choir that had been active in this church about 20 years earlier. SALT was a great program, everyone said. The choir had attracted youth from all over the community. They traveled all over the region, bringing the good news in song and bringing fame to themselves and the church. SALT had been a phenomenal success – at least as it lived in people’s memories. And the darker our current situation looked, the brighter SALT shone in people’s memories. “If we could just have SALT again” became a mantra.
But we would never have it again. It was a different time in the church and our culture. We could have hired a director and designated some funds and resurrected the name, but we still would not have SALT again.
Sometimes we need to forget the things of the past for the sake of living now.
What will this year bring for us? What gifts, what challenges, what surprises will we see? What will end in 2022, and what will begin? What will we gain and what will we let go?
We spend much of our time and energy in the past, holding on to good memories we wish to return to, or bad memories we wish to protect ourselves from or even avenge ourselves for. We spend much effort trying to maintain control of things, keeping them the way we like, the way they have always been, the way we feel comfortable with.
Imagine all these things as stones you are holding in your hands. They’re attractive stones, sure, and they seem worthy of your efforts to hold on to them. But one day you might get a glimpse of a stone of such beauty as you haven’t seen before – just a brief glimpse, really, because you are mostly preoccupied with keeping your grip on the stones in your hands. But when you happen to glance up and see this new stone, you immediately know that it is worthy of taking hold of, worthy of making a part of your life. But, you can’t. Your hands are too full already.
Sometimes you need to let go for the sake of something better. As we begin a new year, let us consider forgetting those things that lie behind and strain forward to see what Christ is opening before us now.
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Photo: Churchart.com
