Pitfalls of Forgiveness: Part Two

I wanted to subtitle this one: “How NOT to forgive somebody.”   I got this crazy idea that  if somebody whom I have resented would only answer a few questions for me, I would finally “understand” the situation, and therefore finally “forgive” the guy.   After all, isn’t there a French proverb that reads: “To understand all is to forgive all?”   Sure there is!  Therefore,  if I could only understand this fellow’s baffling behavior toward me, then naturally I would finally arrive at a moment like this:

“Oh!  I get it!  That’s why you said all those weird and totally hurtful things!  I understand now!   It all makes sense!!  Finally, I forgive you, man!!!”

Believe me, this is not the way to approach the matter.   To illustrate this, I’ve prepared a fictitious email, sent to someone named “Tom” who hypothetically had offended me.  The nature of the offense is based on truth, though the names and variables have been altered and mixed, for the sake of discretion and taste.  Observe the absurdity of such an entreaty:

Hey Tom –

As you know, I’ve been having a very difficult time forgiving you for nearly two years now.    Largely, this is due to a single conversation in which you suddenly decided, among other things, that you were not really my good, close friend, but only a “casual acquaintance.”

Being as we have had many close conversations over a twenty year period of time, this demotion seemed a bit unfair.  Come to think of it, however, it was only I who kept revealing all kinds of personal information to you, thinking you were one of my very best friends.  Perhaps this explains why you would often take the information I conveyed to you in confidence and freely distribute among your many associates.  Had I been your friend, and not just some random guy, you might have been more loyal.

It appears that either you are one of the most malicious people I’ve ever met, or one of the stupidest.  I sure hope the latter is the case.  If you are stupid, then you simply don’t realize the implications of your statements, and therefore it is more difficult for me to find fault with you.

I have therefore provided you with a 12-point questionnaire, designed to determine whether or not you are an evil genius or a stupid idiot.  Once I know the answer, I will understand you perfectly; and therefore forgive you.  

Best Regards,


Do you see how ludicrous that would be?  If the situation were reversed, and I knew that someone hated me, and the person who hated me was insisting that I alter my behavior in some form or another, until he would no longer hate me, how would I feel?

I would be incensed!  It is not my purpose in life to adjust my behavior to please him who hates me.  That person who hates me is not God, and has no right to insist that I change in any way.

Scrummaster Needed Desperately at LAST Conf 2016 in ...

But the aphorism above comes to mind and is wise.  This person whom I am calling “Tom” also had a way of lecturing me.  Lengthy dissertations on how to live my life, flavored by little gifts he would buy me — running shoes, a cell phone, and lunches.  It took me a while to realize that he must not have been all that bright.   People who give a lot of advice generally mean well.  They’re just not smart enough to realize that they shouldn’t be doing it.  

Of course, this begs the question: “Why on earth did I listen to all these uninvited lectures in the first place?

The answer is this:

When you’re homeless, and you’re out on the streets, and you’re not sleeping very well, and you’re being treated left and right as though you are a totally worthless scum bag with no clue how to live your life, you eventually begin to believe it.

So you turn to those who appear to be doing well, and you eat up their worthless advice as though it were manna from heaven.  Somehow, you don’t realize until you finally get inside that their advice pertains only to the world of the wealthy.  It has no relevance whatever to the world of the underprivileged — the world where you actually live.

As far as forgiveness is concerned, as Bryan Wagner has pointed out, it has nothing to do with the other person at all.   The idea of requesting that someone alter their behavior in order that you might forgive them is absurd.   Had they been willing to do something like that, you’d have never resented them in the first place.

Forgiveness is an inside job.  It can only be accomplished in that place inside you where you meet your True and Highest Self.  It can only be accomplished in the heart.

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Pitfalls of Forgiveness: Part One

As most of  you know, I am of a genetic heritage (Sicilian) that is noted for resisting the notion of forgiveness.   Some of us seem to have an alarming capacity to take our grudges to our graves.   However, because I am a Christian, and I take the Bible seriously, I would like to make sure that I forgive those whom I still begrudge.   Yet I frankly find forgiveness of these people to be next to impossible. 

But I’ve got to forgive them!   Even if I didn’t identify as a Christian, I’d probably still feel a need to forgive them, if for no other reason than that a lingering resentment doesn’t feel good.   Resentments against others eat away at one’s mental health.   If I weren’t a Christian, I would want to let go of these grudges for my sake.   But because I am a Christian, it is not only for my own sake that I must forgive.  It is for God’s sake — for the sake of all that is good and just and kind in this world.  Look what Jesus said:

Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father who is in heaven will also forgive you your transgressions.  But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father who is in heaven forgive your transgressions.
–Mark 11:25-26

So if we want to be forgiven, then we need to forgive.   That much seems simple and sound.   But whether or not you are conversant with Scripture, these words of Jesus are likely to strike a puzzling note.   Aren’t we Christians the ones who believe that we simply are forgiven?   As in, no matter what we do?

forgiveWell, yes and no.   There are Christians and there are Christians.  A Calvinist might believe this.  An Arminian might not.   We could get into Romans Six and all that, but this single Scripture definitely appears to contradict numerous biblical references to the security of the believer. Have our names not been written on the Book of Life since “before the foundation of the world?”  If I am a Christian, and I believe that God has already forgiven me, then why would I need to forgive anyone else in order to secure His forgiveness?   

Although I’ve read numerous studies on the matter, they seem by and large to be rationalizations.   One suggested that Jesus speaks in this context not to “believers” but to “people in the world.”   But that doesn’t hold water.   Jesus is simply speaking to everybody — to whoever has ears to hear — whether they believe Him or not.

So I pondered this apparent contradiction for a long time.  Finally, I arrived at a reconciliation within myself, as a result of performing the following dialectic:

Q. What’s bugging you?

A. I think I might be going to hell.

Q. Why?

A. There are three people in my life whom I have not forgiven.  

Q. But aren’t you a Christian?

A. That depends upon what you mean by “Christian.”

Q. What do you mean by Christian?

A. A Christian (according to me) is a person who is in the process of being saved.

Q. Saved from what?

A. From the just consequences of our many misdeeds.

Q. Can you document this scripturally?

A. I can try.   Romans 10:9 states:  “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and you believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”  According to this Scripture, these are the two prerequisites for salvation.

Q. Do you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord?

A. Sometimes.

Q. Do you believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead?

A. Always.

Q. Then why would you not be saved?

A. Because I haven’t forgiven these three people, and God says I have to forgive them if I want to go to heaven.

Q. Do you want to forgive them?

A. Oh yes!

Q. Then why don’t you?

A. I keep trying, but I keep winding up going back to the grudges.   It’s not that I don’t want to forgive them, it’s that I don’t feel I have the power to do so.

Q. But as a Christian, doesn’t your power come from God?

A. Well, if it doesn’t, then it ought to.

Q. Then why not ask God to empower you to forgive them?

A. Good idea.   I will do so immediately.

Q. Anything else?

A. Yes.

Q. What?

A. As I asked God to empower me to forgive the triumvirate whom I begrudge, a thought came to mind.  Something I’d never thought before.

Q. Really?  What thought is that?

A. Since God knows all things, maybe God knows that ultimately, at some time in my life, I am going to forgive all three of them.   Therefore, though I haven’t forgiven them yet — and would certainly go to hell were I to die on this very day — I am still nonetheless going to go to heaven on some future day, because by the time that future day rolls around, I will have forgiven them.   And God knows this!  I may not have forgiven them yet, but I will forgive them.  I will then be free to depart gracefully from the present planet, and take up my throne in heaven.

Q. Your throne?   Isn’t God the one on the throne?

A. 2 Timothy 2:12 & Revelation 20:6, dude.  We’re all gonna be reigning in heaven.   Remember: you are dealing with a person who actually reads the Bible.   I’m not a person who blindly swallows every lie that comes out of the mouth of the preacher on the pulpit.  Nor am I of the camp who absolutely refuse to open the Book, for fear of its contents.   Nor am I —

Q. Excuse me!! What about 1 Corinthians 8:1?

A. Oops — I forgot.  You actually read the Bible, too.

Q. Well, what about it?

A. What about what?

Q. Don’t dodge the question — what about 1 Cor 8:1?   Paul clearly states that the pursuit of knowledge leads to arrogance, whereas the pursuit of love leads to encouragement and spiritual growth.

A. All right, I’ll admit it.  My problem is that I’m too hung up on learning, reading, absorbing, acquiring information, and gaining knowledge.   And despite all of that intellectual focus, the plain fact is that I just don’t have enough love in my heart.   

Q. And Who is Love?

A. You know the answer to that.   Luke 15:9 & John 4:8 come to mind.   God is Love.

Q. Then Whom shall you seek, if you are to learn how to love?

A. Deuteronomy 4:29 & Jeremiah 29:13 hold the answer to that one.

Q. Wasn’t that a bit indirect of you?

A. Was Jesus always direct?

The Questioner is silent.  

Obviously, I’ve arrived at a resolution that is quite pleasant, if tenuous.   It would seem that my next move along these lines should be to forgive the three people whom I continue to begrudge.   So, in Parts 2-4 of this series (if I ever get around to writing them),  please expect me to go through great efforts to forgive the triad of traitors who so treacherously trapped, tricked, and traumatized me.   I’m not going to mention them by name — of course.   But I’m definitely going to delve into it.

Why?  Because I must.  It’s not just being Sicilian.   It’s that I spent way too much time on the streets.   There, the concept of achieving peace of mind over a troubling individual was virtually synonymous with the notion of getting even with them.   If I wanted there to be peace between me and someone with whom I was quarreling,  I didn’t even think about forgiving them.  I thought about intimidating them until they were too scared to mess with me.   It was only then that I would breathe my long-awaited — though highly temporary — sigh of relief.

Let’s put it this way.   I may have Mafioso blood, but I sure didn’t have anything against any of these people before I had to spend twelve years on the streets.


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Gratitude List 1188

My list from yesterday afternoon, just after waking from a nap, slightly edited.

1. Got a 2 hour nap from about 2-4. I believe I am now fully rested, and I’m more relaxed as well, having only gotten about 4 hours of sleep last night.

2. I wound up strapped at the end of the month, but somebody who wanted a Pinnacle CD handed me a ten dollar bill at church this morning.   I haven’t spent any of it, and now I can get through the rest of the month till my check comes on Tuesday.

3. When I left the studio yesterday, there was more peace in my spirit than I have known since the day I left Dan’s office after playing through the Eden in Babylon score. Grateful for that rare but blissful sense of comfort and peace.

4. At the Courtyard before the radio show, quickly grabbing a bite to eat, I was so scattered I could not pray, but to ask God that a believer would appear between there and the station, so that maybe that person could pray instead. I then walked out the door, and the first person I saw was Amanda from my church, who agreed to pray for me. Grateful that God had my back.

5. After that, the radio show proceeded almost supernaturally well. It was a surprise to have received the sudden opportunity, and an even bigger surprise how well it went. Grateful for surprises such as these.

6. Though the show on this link is three hours long (without option to rewind or fast-forward), I am now in possession of a 250mb mp3 containing the entire three hour experience. Grateful for the opportunity to trim it down to one hour, and post it on my blog and on social media.

7. Grateful for having met Big Al in the first place and shot the breeze with him at the Round Table. When I saw him today, he said he wanted to do it again sometime.

8. Really grateful for my church, for more than two reasons. But here are two, among many: (1) the sensible spirit there is balancing out my tendency to make choices on impulse, rather than by sound reason; (2) the emphasis on surrendering things that are beyond my control is balancing out my tendency to want to take the reins, take charge, and in some cases, take vengeance.

9. Grateful for the Freudian slip in Friday’s texting with Norman. Well, “Freudian slip” is a slight misnomer, because it only involved hitting a “c” instead of a “v” on the smartphone keyboard. So the intended expression, “I’ll probably take it to the grave” (with respect to my ongoing resentment against a certain individual), was transformed to “I’ll probably take it to the grace.” This resulted in reflection. It is through grace that God is not punishing me for the full extent of my offences against Him. Therefore, who am I to punish anyone for their offences against me? To whatever extent I forgive those who have wronged me, to that same extent do I walk in the forgiveness of Christ.

10. My daughter has grown into an outstanding human being, and has made her father’s heart glad. God is Good.

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Tuesday Tuneup 18

Q. Do you know who I am?

A. Yeah.  You’re a pain in the ass who darkens my door once a week, annoying me with an incessant series of inane questions, challenging my patience.

Q. So why have you summoned me?

A. What choice did I have?

Q. Aren’t I supposed to be asking you the questions?

A. Supposed to schummosed to.  I’m totally disgruntled.

Q. Whatever for?

A. I don’t know.  The whole thing just seems to be — on me. 

Q. What whole thing?

A. Forgiveness!  Why am I the guy who always has to focus all his energy on forgiving all these other people?   If even one of them would so much as give me the time of day, it would sure make it a lot easier.

hillary forgivenessQ. Easier on who?

A. On me — obviously!

Q. Why don’t you make it easy on them?

A. Don’t insult my integrity.  I’m already trying to do that, and you know that.

Q. How?

A. By apologizing to them.  By asking their forgiveness.  Like the Bible says.  Like Jesus says.  Like we’re all supposed to do with each other.  But they still won’t —

Q. Give you the time of day?

A. Right.  How do I know they’re even reading my emails?  Or listening to my voice mail messages?  Or even reading my carefully, prayerfully worded snail mail letters?   I wouldn’t be surprised if whats-his-face just ripped up the letter I sent to his home address, without even bothering to open it.

Q. But why would he do that?

A. I don’t know.  Fear of its contents, I guess.  Or disrespect for me as a man.  Hard to say.  Maybe his wife doesn’t want him to have anything to do with me.  Maybe his doctor told him to avoid “toxic people,” and he decided I was “toxic.”  Or maybe he’s just a cowardly wimp who can’t face up to his own bullshit unless he’s painted into a damn corner.

Q. Do you really need this guy?

A. No, not really.

Q. Then what do you need?  


A. I need to forgive him.  To be free and clear of all the lingering resentment over the way I was treated — and the way I treated him.   To know that he has received my apologies, my requests for forgiveness, and that they matter enough to him — that Jesus matters enough for him — to say “I forgive you, Andy.”  And then we can both move on.  Or even be friends again, who knows?   God only knows.

Q. How long has this been going on?

A. Five years now.  

Q. He hasn’t talked to you for five years?

A. Not just him – but all kinds of people.

Q. Why did they all stop talking to you?

A. Probably because of the way I was coming across at the time.

Q. How were you coming across?

A. I was desperate.  I was homeless.  Sure I had all kinds of other problems, but I couldn’t solve any of them from homelessness.  And none of those damned group situations that were always recommended ever worked out for me.  They only surrounded me with thieves and criminals, and furthered the violation of my person and my property.   I was down in this hole that was so deep, I couldn’t climb out of it myself for the life of me.  I kept beseeching them, please, let me stay with you, just for a while, just for a month or so, till I can get my bearings, get some sleep, and see a way to maybe get back on my feet.  But nobody would budge.  They all rejected me.  Most of them without even a word of notice or warning.  They flushed me down the toilet like I was a total piece of — piece of — piece of  —

Q. Shit?

A. You said it.  

Q. Why did you internalize their opinions of you?

A. I couldn’t help it.  I knew I was coming across in a way that freaked them out, or pissed them off even.  But all the gross details of homelessness, the sleep deprivation, the constant insinuation from everyone around me that I was this worthless piece of crap, that my music didn’t matter, my singing, my piano playing, my writing, my public speaking, none of the good things about me counted!  I was just supposed to cram a bunch of damned pills down my throat that I knew would destroy everything I had going for me, and get into some group home where they monitored all my meds and only let me out under supervision on Sundays.   

And I had already tried all that.  And I just couldn’t do it!  I’d have rather slept alone out in a field somewhere.  So I did.  But then — all the other crap set in.

Q. What other crap?

A. You know something?  I really don’t want to talk about it.

Q. Then why are you?

A. Because of you.  And all your damned questions.  Go away! And don’t come back till Tuesday!   Tired of your robotic, unfeeling crap.

The Questioner is silent.

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Tuesday Tuneup Eight

Q. Do you know who I am?

A. I really wish you would quit asking me that.

Q. Why did you summon me?

A. Because it’s Monday.

Q. Um – isn’t the Tuesday Tuneup supposed to take place on Tuesday?

A. Supposedly.  But with my track record, if I began writing on Tuesday, it probably wouldn’t happen till about Thursday, if at all.    And anyway, it will be Tuesday in about a half hour or so.

Q. Why are you up so late?

A. Sleeplessness.

Q. Why are you sleepless?

A. I don’t know.  Runs in the family.  My dad, my brother, we all have insomnia.

Q. But you don’t have insomnia every night, do you?

A. Not at all, sir.  On most nights, I sleep rather well.

Q. So why the sudden insomnia?

A. I don’t know.  Restless.  Stuff on my mind.

Q. Like what?

A. Wow – you sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?

Q. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?

A. Never mind.   What’s on my mind is, quite honestly, my own shortcomings.  My flaws, my faults, my mistakes.

Q. Is not to err human?

A. What?

Alexander Pope

Q. Is it not human to make mistakes?

A. I suppose so — at least according to the descendant of an ancestor of mine.  But I am not divine, and I just cannot forgive myself my mistakes.  There are too many of them.  They are too huge.   And try as I may, I never seem to make any progress toward correcting them.  

Q. Do they need to be corrected?

A. What do you mean, do they “need” to be corrected?   What kind of a question is that?  They’re mistakes!  If things are wrong, they must be made right.

Q. Why?

A. What do you mean, why?

Q. Why can’t you just let them be wrong?

A. You mean – not even try to correct the mistakes?

Q. That’s what I said, didn’t I?

A. Are you honestly trying to suggest that I make no effort to correct my mistakes?

Q. The mistakes are past, aren’t they?

A. They occurred in the past, yes.   I think the last one was about fifteen minutes ago, but it’s still past.

Q. Can you change the past?

A. No, I cannot.

Q. Then why are you trying to do so?

A. I don’t know, sir.  I honestly do not know.

The Questioner is silent.  

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Alive for a Reason

frustrated-woman-cursing-while-doing-her-taxes-royalty-free-clipart-1nulfg-clipartThere’s something I haven’t mentioned yet about this musical script I’ve been trying to write.  I’ve noticed that it’s almost impossible for me to put pen to paper on this project until I have cleared my head of any resentment or anxiety that could possibly deter me along the way.   This is undoubtedly why I was not able to work on the script for three years following the essential completion of the score.  There was a resentment against a certain individual that was so unwieldy, I basically couldn’t even look at the script without beginning to cuss the person out in my mind (and sometimes even out loud.)  This is also the reason why I wrote nothing at all yesterday.  There were simply too many resentments and anxieties to have to get out of the way first.

This morning, however, I think most of them have already been successfully banished.  I’ve been up for a little less than two hours, and I’m about to get rolling.  One thing that did occur yesterday, as I found myself immersed in the annoyances of moral and practical obligation, was a huge and sudden illumination that just about took my breath away.

I suddenly realized the parallel between the suggestion in Part Four of my anthology and the huge happy ending that my musical Eden in Babylon is headed for.   I’ve also not mentioned the anthology, and just this morning created a new page  to explain it.  Essentially, it’s an account of the five year period of time when I lived continuously outdoors, except for ten months out of those five years.   The suggestion in Part Four of the anthology is extremely radical and no doubt will make many people uncomfortable as they endeavor to grasp it.  However, in the musical it can somehow be transformed into a happy ending. 

This is because musicals traditionally do not depict life as it is.  They depict life as it ought to be.  This at least is how I was brought into the realm of musical theatre, with a high school production of Man of La Mancha.   Since I was terrified of going to VietNam at the time, the message of hope and idealism in the story of Don Miguel de Cervantes and his famous creation, Don Quixote, was enough to convince me that I would probably be doing musical theatre for the rest of my days.

Unfortunately, however, musical theatre is not what it once was — or at least what it once ought to have been.  Hamilton and Les Miserables notwithstanding, most of the musicals that have come out in the past twenty to thirty years are disappointing crap.   Many of them appeal to musical theatre people only, and not to the general populace.  I frankly gave up about thirteen years ago.  I’ve only done one show in the past thirteen years – a Gilbert and Sullivan show, The Yeoman of the Guard, at Stanford University.  Outside of that, and teaching a few workshops, I’ve mainly been a recluse.  But in that isolation, one thing I did begin to do — was write.

In writing this musical, I hope to help brighten the picture of musical theatre in today’s world.   I’m thankful for all the years I spent outdoors.  It wasn’t easy to write about at the time, but the wealth of source material for this musical is something I could never otherwise have harvested.   As far as the anthology, which obviously draws on the same wealth of material, I have found a publisher as of approximately six months ago.  He contacted me when he was ready about a month ago, and I had to tell him that I was not.  I could finish the compilation, but it would mean dropping the musical, and I just can’t do that right now.   In fact, it’s entirely possible that this musical will be my gift to the world.

I am alive, after all I’ve been through, for a reason. 

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The Magic Words

(Note: If this post is a bit incomprehensible at first glance, the two links are to previous posts of mine that provide background information.   My hope today, as always, is that this is the last time I will have to write on this theme.)

A while back, the “professor” tried to get through to me through a third party, a wonderful man who was moved enough by my sorrow to try to “broker a temporary detente” between us, as he put it.   Through this third party (a mutual associate), the professor declared:

“I can have no contact with Andy whatsoever at this time.”

The wonderful man sort of made it sound as though at some later time, when things were different, perhaps he could have contact with me.   So he told me: “We can try again later if you like.”  I suggested we wait six months.  Then, six months elapsed, and I asked the mutual friend to try again.  But he declined, saying that the initial message he’d gotten from the professor was actually this:

“I can have no contact with Andy at this time –
and I will not have contact with him at any time.
It will not be wise of you to try again.”

At that, I felt more than a bit ashamed of myself for even commandeering the assistance of this wonderful man in the first place.   He’s the only person I’ve encountered who agreed to try to get through to the professor on my behalf.   I certainly didn’t want to pressure the fellow any further.  I figure he either forgot what he had said the first time, because he really didn’t want to intervene a second time, or else he didn’t get it right in the first place.  But that’s what happens when you can’t get it from the “horse’s mouth.”

So I was left with this frustrated feeling that this kind of message should be coming from the horse’s mouth!   I can’t even imagine just blocking somebody on all these interfaces without explanation after having been friends for forty-five years!  So the Sicilian in me – that is to say, 50% of me and no doubt the dominant genes –  began to rear its head.  I had been angry long enough, and I was about to get even.  I began to devise ways to break through all the blocks that this professor has placed toward me on all his various interfaces.   It became a special challenge for me – something that actually energized me.   I would never let go!  I would keep finding ways to buzz this professor until he breaks down completely.

Off to a good start, I noticed that my new cell phone somehow mandated me to use my given name rather than my common name, and more-or-less forced me to start a new G-Mail account based on my given name.  So, all of a sudden the professor received two Facebook messages from a guy with my given name.   The second simply included my phone number.   I waited a while before assaying to send a third, more detailed and explanatory message.  To that, Facebook responded:

This user is not receiving messages from you at this time.

This caused me to suspect that he had probably received my new phone number.  “Aha!” I thought.  “I shall text him, and see if my number is blocked.”  Then I prayed.  Vengeful though I might have been, I nonetheless prayed to the God whose right it is to take vengeance.  But I prayed for reconciliation.   Did forty-five years of friendship have to go down the tubes all because of this?

The reason for my repeated request is because I will be able to cease to contact you once I hear from you directly that you wish not to hear from me.   Otherwise, my mind automatically keeps searching for the “magic words” that will somehow move you to acknowledge me and accept me as a friend once again.  I realize this is my own stuff, but it’s basically not healthy for me to keep buzzing you like this, and I know myself well enough to know that a simple statement from you will suffice, as did with Jerry and John D. and others from LHS who have chosen not to have contact with me.  I hope this is not too much to ask, and I certainly hope you are well.
Love, Andy

Success!  The message was not blocked!!  But wait a minute – couldn’t he simply have changed his phone number??

Fed up, I prayed: “Lord, if he’s never going to talk to me again, and if that kind of thing is fine with him, can he at least do us both the courtesy of telling me so directly?   You and I both know that if he simply lets me know, without confusion or mixed message, that he doesn’t want to hear from me until some such time as he chooses, I’ll be man enough to stop buzzing him.  Or better yet, can’t we reconcile?   Why is this forgiveness ball always in my court?”

It may seem strange,  but after that I honestly did let go.  For that moment, anyway – I let go completely.   There are no magic words.   There is nothing I can do in my power that will get this guy to talk to me again, either to tell me what it is that I did that caused him to suddenly diss me like this, or what it is that he did that makes him not want to face me.  He more-or-less knows his part in the whole affair; he obviously has chosen to disrespect me and I have to get over it.  I more-or-less know my own part in the whole affair; he has declined to “fill me in” with a more complete understanding, and I have to get over that too.  It’s done.  It’s over.  I’m through.  We’re through.  I have to accept the hard fact that forty-five years of friendship were shot down the tubes for reasons I will never fully understand.  Andy, that’s life.  Andy, get over it.  Andy —

Andy, take a valium?   A friend listened to all of this and said:

I hate to break it to you,
but it’s more important to God that you forgive this guy
than that you finish your script.

Damn – I sure wish it were the other way around!

The Bottom Line

It’s been a very depressing day for me.   I’m not a person who is prone to depression, though I certainly recognize it.  Depression strikes me rarely enough, however, that I pale at being able to navigate it.  It always seems like new territory, and highly dismal, unrelenting terrain at that.

I started thinking about going word-of-mouth on the “advertising” venture alluded to earlier, and I received some referrals to people who might be interested but who haven’t gotten back to me yet.   Then I began to ponder the idea I had last Saturday that would neatly take me from my most recent impasse to the end of the Winston Greene show, so that I would have a completed rough draft at last.  So I thought, well, I’ll try to do it myself – it is my idea after all, my “baby” as it were.  But as soon as I hit the pages of that script, I felt this familiar surge of resentment against one particular individual, whose identity it would be completely inappropriate to disclose.  Let’s just say he is a dear old friend of mine, somebody who is precious to me but who for some unknown reason has decided that he cannot have any contact with me.  Even that decision was communicated to a third party to convey to me, and rendered three years or more after the fact.

That alone baffles me, being as I am actually incapable of making such decisions, nor as a Christian do I believe them to be loving or godly.  I can’t think of anyone on earth whom I have ever decided is not worth my time.   And I’m fine with that.   Many people shun me because of my personality traits anyway.  I know what it feels like to be shunned, and so it is basically a Golden Rule issue for me.  I don’t like being dissed, and I don’t diss people.  

But this guy – I tell you, it would be so easy for him to take an hour out of his day and participate in the healing of my wound regarding him.  Yet I cannot control the actions or reactions of any person other than myself.   So of course there is nothing I can do or say to change this man’s mind about me.   Yet the way that the severance came about was so ugly and so entirely unnecessary, and its resolution so entirely doable if only he would do his part, it calls to question not only his morality – though he claims to be a Christian (which of course says nothing) – but his actual professional integrity.

How could he have ripped my script apart at a moment when he knew I was only looking for support and encouragement, and he also knew that I respected him very highly and would no doubt internalize his comments?   How could he then proceed to never answer emails, never answer phone calls, when the solution would be so simple?  If there are, for example, “over the top political references” in my script; and if they do, in fact, “get in the way of the story,” why did he refuse to tell me where these references are and how they get in the way of the story?  I have scoured this script ad infinitum, and he could have meant practically anything.  I don’t see them, personally, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

He commented on a typo on one page, objected to capitalization in stage directions, and happened to note that I had set up one of the scenes very nicely – as though all the scenes had not been set up impeccably.  I took graduate playwriting course at U.C.Davis; I rarely got a grade lower than an A+, I am not some hack!   Where was this guy coming from?  It seemed as though he skimmed the script during a ten minute coffee break, looking for innocuous peccadillos to shove in my face, as though taking pot shots at me.  It wasn’t what I expected from a longtime dear friend at all!   Nor from a professional in the field!  I am absolutely horrified by this inexplicably unacceptable behavior from someone of his obvious highly esteemed stature in the Performing Arts.

He said the show was ‘unproducible’ due to the cast size.  I chopped the cast szie in half and sent it to him; he still ignored me.  I sent him personal handwritten letters to his home address, sometimes even letters of apology – though God knows what for — and still he would not budge.  Yet before this notorious critique of his, we had been in contact probably two to three times a week.   After ridiculing me while I sought his encouragement, he curtly turned his head away and removed me from his existence as though I were a piece of human feces being flushed down a toilet.

Was it because of class?  Is he only supposed to extend professional respect toward rich people, or famous people, and not toward those who are struggling?   He used to always send me a little gift on my birthday into my PayPal, fifty dollars or so.  Enough for the poor bloke to get himself a dinner, and maybe a date, or perhaps a glass of red wine.  Even that kindness stopped abruptly.   Why?   Does he only answer to those who “count” in his world?   And why do I no longer count?

While assaulting this “over-the-top” character that I had created for dramatic effect in a musical – as though characters in musicals are not by their very nature “over the top” — he quite casually added: “This of course has no reflection on the author of the show” (meaning me, of course).  I was not born yesterday!  This borders on character assassination!  And of course, I was hurt emotionally by that sarcasm.  But what hurt the most was that he absolutely refused to address any of these issues that he himself had raised – and there were many others.  Instead,  he proceeded to avoid me completely, block all my email addresses, delete me from all interfaces, never return phone calls, and basically blot my existence out of his mind as best he could, I would presume, for three years.  As though he had nothing to do with the matter, and there were nothing he could do to resolve it.

Because I’m a Christian, I have to forgive him.  Because I’m a human being, I have to get over it.  Because I have a job to keep and an apartment to maintain, I have to focus away from it.  But it just irks me that I should now be left, not only with a failed friendship, but with a total psychological block against finishing this project that is dear to me.  You see, every time I open up the pages of that script, I practically burst into tears thinking about how a scathing critique full of mockery and insult, followed by three years of silence, ruined a forty-year friendship.  All this fellow would have to do would be to own up – to man up — and my whole block would disappear for good.  It would take an hour, at the most, of this man’s time.  And yet — he will not give me that single hour!

Is it Christian love that would refuse to bend that far for a human being whom you have hurt?  To see the solution so clearly, to hold the very solution in your own hands, and yet refuse to render it?   I could easily forgive him if he owned up.   I do my best to forgive people their understandable transgressions, even as God has forgiven mine.   But when I’m having trouble forgiving someone, why do they make it harder for me to do so?  When they could so easily do something about it!   Why is this forgiveness ball always in my court??

What is forgiveness anyway?   Some say it’s simply “overlooking” the offense.  Scripture says “it is to a man’s glory to overlook an offense.”  (Proverbs 19:11)  So I guess if I want any “glory” – if I want to ever actually finish this script — I’m going to have to overlook this offense – huge and overpowering though it may be.

Or maybe — I shouldn’t want any glory. 

I wonder if that’s the bottom line . . .