Spiritual Matters 
Truer Words Were Never Spoken

– By Rector Susan Harriss –

Someone asked me the other day why the church uses the color purple for Lent. Purple, after all, has been a color associated with royalty since the days of the Roman Empire. Why, when we are humbling ourselves, and taking stock of our faults, would we dress the church and the clergy in a color meant for kings?

I like to think that it's because the moment a man or woman sees the error of their ways and turns around is a moment of supreme dignity. Nothing is more regal, more kingly, than to say, “I'm sorry.”

Those words can heal wounds, redress grievances, and change the world.

All of us can think of times when saying “I'm sorry” has meant a great deal less than that. There are plenty of counterfeit apologies, empty apologies that don't measure up. My favorite is the explanation. I would rather explain than apologize. I think if I explain what I did the other person will see that what I did wasn't so bad, after all. I might even be able to shift the blame: “If I had known what time you were coming home, I might have done it differently.” You get the idea. An explanation is sometimes warranted, but it's not an apology.

Another counterfeit is the apology that starts “I'm sorry you feel that way.” In other words, this is your  problem; I never meant any harm and you were wrong to take offense.

Then there's the apology too quickly offered. The offending party tosses off those words “I'm sorry” and quickly changes the subject. Parents of teenagers will recognize this one: “Okay, I'm sorry, are we finished now?”

There's one more apology that cannot satisfy, and that is the one offered in all sincerity with tears and promises by a repeat offender who will almost certainly be going back on his word. Families of substance abusers hear this kind of apology all the time.

Those are empty apologies, well intended but somehow incomplete.

A true apology, what our Book of Common Prayer calls “true repentance,” is different. First, a true apology acknowledges that real damage has been done. I remember reading somewhere of an African language in which the word for “hello” can be translated, literally, to “I see you.” A true apology says, “I see you. I see that you are hurting; I see that I am responsible.  I'm sorry.”

A true apology shows genuine regret. We are truly sorry; the memory of what we have done is causing us pain; we want to do better.

A true apology opens the door for change. The change may be slow, but it must begin immediately. The offending behavior stops or lessens right away. There's change.

In the aftermath of apartheid, South Africa set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission where amnesty was offered to prison guards, soldiers and officials who were willing to meet with their victims' families in public hearings. In Bisho, two hearings were held to remember a demonstration where soldiers had opened fire on unarmed demonstrators, killing 28 of them.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu wrote about the hearings in his book, “No Future Without Forgiveness.” One officer incensed the audience by his apparent lack of compassion for the victims; another officer then stood to speak and gave the kind of apology that the occasion demanded. Bishop Tutu writes that although the room had been quite tense up to that point, the mood changed almost instantaneously when the officer spoke. They broke into applause!

That's an apology worthy of the color purple, worthy of a king. These words change the world: “I'm sorry.”