A Game of Darts

I once read a story about a seminary professor who began his class in a most unconventional way. Standing at the door of the lecture hall, he greeted each student with a greeting and offered each one a dart. The kind of dart that one uses when playing a game of darts, as if he or she was at a pub, throwing the sharp darts at the circular target on the wall. With quizzical looks upon their faces at the unconventional greeting of the day, each student took their dart and walked to their familiar seat.

The room was buzzing with conversation, some about the meaning of the strange greeting and the possible use of the darts, while others sat silently reading once more the notes they had prepared for the lecture of the day, knowing that their teacher would grill them with difficult questions as he did during each hour spent in the room this cavernous auditorium of learning and instruction. The aging professor was not one to use unconventional forms of teaching, usually lecturing during the entire hour, stopping only to ask a question of a student he suspected was sleeping, or in another world entirely devoid of his his address to the gathered mass.

When the clock reached the exact time for the class to begin, the professor closed and locked the door as was his custom to ensure that those who didn't value the virtue of promptness, always saying, "When you are late, you waste your time and mine. You also show the one to whom you are meeting that he or she is of less importance than yourself." This Doctor of Theology was a no-nonsense type of instructor, making this yet to be understood dart experiment all the more befuddling to those awaiting further instruction.

As the class began the professor stood in front of his desk and looked at the class silently. The hush had already shrouded the room as the professor attempted to quietly make eye-contact with each student. Those confused scholars sat, pen in hand, books opened, ready for the usual class time, and began to glance around at one another wondering if the respected man had lost his mind.

After about five minutes of silence, during which the professor ignored the occasional daring soul who dared raise a hand to ask what was happening. The five minutes seemed to be an eternity, an abyss of silence that these young minds weren't used to experiencing, after all their lives were filled with noise, not only sound, but noise. Sound can be pleasant, but noise is distracting. The students wanted either one to break the discomfort many of them felt. It was at five minutes past the hour that the learned man, adorned in his dark suit and usual bow tie opened his mouth to give one single instruction.

"Please take out one sheet of blank paper, if you don't have one, please borrow a sheet of paper from someone around you." The professor broke the silence and a flurry of activity began as the students scurried to tear pages from ringed binders and spiral notebooks. But again, there was a moment of silence, not as long, yet still as frustrating as the first five minutes of the silent education.

"If I'd known that the old man was going to lose his mind today, I would've stayed at the Student Union Building and gotten another cup of coffee. This is crazy," one particularly serious and at the same time boring student muttered under his cowardly breath. The room was quiet enough that more than his intended audience of one heard the comment.

Next came the beginning of the day's assignment.

"We've been reading, writing, discussing, and thinking together in our class on many different theological topics, but today I want to address a topic in a completely different way. Each one of us in our human condition have been hurt, some deeply by another person. Actions, words, situations, life... happen every day and some cut us more deeply than the sharpest of swords, and we carry these open wounds around affecting us in many ways. For some of you a wound was thrust upon you by another person or group. Perhaps family, or even a stranger. You each have your satchel's filled with those you would even say you hate. For the next ten minutes, I want you to reflect upon your life and write the names of the people and groups who you could say you cannot forgive, or wish ill will upon, or even would say that you hate deeply. Make them real names representing real people or groups, no one will see this list but you so be honest. Reach deeply within yourselves and dig for those who have wounded your soul, upon whom you hope only for redemption. Begin."

With that the professor walked to a bookshelf taking a volume from his collection and sat at his desk. while he labored over his own study, he looked away from his notes and reading to glance at his watch to know exactly when the ten minute window of written hatred would be finished. Some students sat looking heavenward in thought, while others were furiously scribbling the names known only to them. Maybe some of the students were writing the names of others in the room, maybe even the professor who may have locked them out of the classroom one time to often in his or her opinion.

The only sounds in the room were of pen to paper, pages turning, and the tick of the clock on the wall at the back of the lecture hall that in the teacher's estimation was exactly two minutes slow. Some students finished their list quickly, laying their pens upon their sheet of paper, some had moments of clarity and picked up their pen again and wrote another name, while others continued their scratchings furiously until the time of reflection and inner research had reached it's end.

"Stop. Pen's down," came the words of Dr. Whatintheworldishappening. These were the same words uttered at the end of each examination period. This examination was both easier and more difficult than all of the other tests the class had experienced in this hall of learning.

"Look at your paper. Read each word you wrote silently and remember why you wrote those words. Remember. Feel. Breathe. And when you are ready you will note that I have affixed to the wall a large image of a target. By the quality of some of your work in my class I'm well aware that you are more familiar with such targets and darts at the pub across the street than the assignments that I prepare for you, but that is a lesson for the end of the semester. Today is different. When you are ready, please fold your paper in half and tack it to the target as if you were throwing a dart at each one of these offenders, as if you were gouging them with a fury of hurt that you want to exact in a way that is exponentially more heinous than what was done or said to you and return to your seat. Please do this silently." The professor had to prompt the beginning of the rest of the lesson as the bewildered students sat still by saying, "Go. Go ahead and do what I've instructed."

Finally student after student formed a line in front of the target waiting his or her turn at stabbing, "the list." It was a procession much like those walking to the altar of the church for communion. Some simply tacked their list to the target, while others used the force that seemed to shake the wall. One student even moved a list so she could shove the dart into the bull's eye with anger apparent in her repeated stabs.

When all of the class was once again seated in the appointed places the wise professor stood and walked once again in front of his desk. With his arms crossed, he gazed across the classroom and again tried to look into the eyes of each of his pupils before he opened his mouth and said, "That felt good didn't it? For some of you, I noticed you were hesitant to put your list on my wall, others exacted strong revenge on the list. Some of you felt guilty even writing the list, filled with relatives and strangers, old and new, I'm well aware that my own name may be on your list. I frankly don't care. Now each of you come down and remove your list and your dart and return to your seats please."

Again perplexed the students marveling at what they were deeming a waste of time walked to the front in a similar procession to the former walk, each one took the list from the target and returned, some scratching their heads in confusion, others shared rolling eyes.

When all the darts and lists were removed the teacher walked from his desk and removed the image of the target, beneath the target was a picture of Jesus. One of those pictures that many have seen adorning the walls of countless churches and homes. It was a more anglicized version of how Jesus may have truly appeared, but the lesson would be the same. The picture of Jesus was filled with holes, tears, and the pocked marks left from the darts plunged into the target. The once pristine picture was now ready to be crumpled and thrown into the waste basket.

"Today our lesson is forgiveness. This being a Monday, many of you no doubt attended worship services yesterday during which you uttered the words, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.'"

"Forgiveness is one of the inarguable tenets of our Christian faith that cannot be learned from a simple lecture or a book, regardless of how weighty and wordy it is that can be communicated only by understanding one thing. Jesus takes the treatment of his children, His creation, made in his image personally."

It was then that the professor opened his weathered and well-worn bible and read the following words:

"From the 25th chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, listen for God's word."

31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

"You see the darts of forgiveness withheld and of hatred pierce not only the one for whom you disdain, but more so they pierce your own heart, and much more so the heart of our Lord and Savior who said in his own words that whatever we do or fail to do for even those who seem the least worthy receive our charity, love, and forgiveness," the professor said as he stood by the picture filled with holes and rips and tears.

Forgiveness is an often mistaken concept in my mind. One explained and expressed in a variety of ways and forms. All difficult, some more so than others. In ministry I've listened as so many people recounted horrific things and words that have been hurled at them during their life that have molded, twisted, and scorched them. Some of the hurt that seems unforgivable happened so far in one's past that he or she can't seem to even remember the specifics, only the pit in the stomach that is the symptom of festering ire at the past hurt. Carrying with them an injured spirit many times unbeknownst to the offender who carries his own bag of hurt.

I dislike greatly the sentiment of well meaning people who say that the phrase, "You can't forgive if you can't forget." We are not robots that can reboot our minds and feelings to rid ourselves of memories and feelings when we are let down, kicked, or endure what feels like the endless torture of hurtful darts thrown our way.

I equally dislike the saying, "I'll forgive, but I'll never forget." Although it is more honest than the aforementioned statement it still rings hollow. It indicates that there is really no movement toward forgiveness. The statement shouts to the inner places of ones' psyche that the pain will be relived again and again so that hatred boils over like the simmering pot that is not attended.

Forgiveness is not an event, it is a process. It is the intentional practice of prayer and asking for God to take our disdain and help us to want the best for the other person or persons. Forgiveness never means we have to like someone again, or spend any time with them which could even result in more hurt and further injury to ourselves

At the bottom line of forgiveness is to enter the process of a search for the best for one another to follow closely in the steps of Jesus more closely every day. To treat one another with the charity poured lavishly and without limit by the Savior who wipes away our sordid slate of wrongdoing and sin.

At the end of the lecture the professor walked purposefully from the room to allow the class to gaze upon the picture of Jesus and know that it was they who had adorned the representation with their own hatred and hurt, that tears at the heart of the one who owns our sin taking it upon himself, so that we may be free.

So as we begin the process of forgiveness, that may take a lifetime, we set someone free. And that person us ourselves.