Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
– Bob Dylan, Every Grain of Sand
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
Regrets?
Moving on from looking back.
It was a lively jury discussion on which hung the freedom of two parents accused of 18 felonies. After two and a half days of testimony – including from the parents – we sat at a long table discussing the charges, testimony, and evidence.
I felt a weight on my shoulders, a bit uncomfortable sitting in judgment of my fellow man. And I was acutely aware that this case – and our verdict – could have a traumatic impact on the lives of the parents, children, and extended family.
So, we struggled with less-than-perfect or complete evidence. Was there doubt? Was there reasonable doubt?
After several hours, we reached a verdict: Guilty of all 18 charges.
Two people who loved their children – albeit imperfectly – would go to prison. Youngsters would grow up without a mother or father. Grandparents would now take on the unexpected role of parenting their grandchildren as their own child sat in prison.
There was no way I could feel good about the impact of our verdict. But it was the right conclusion. The evidence showed the parents had indeed made tragic – and illegal – choices.
There was no acknowledgment of guilt from the parents – hence the jury trial. And from the witness stand, they expressed no regret. They felt wronged by the system and professed deep – and I believe sincere – love for their children.
As jurors, it was not our job to pass judgment on the love these parents have for their children. Our business was whether – based on the evidence – the parents had deliberately and knowingly broken the law.
He who is without sin
“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”
– Jesus (John 8:1-11)
Tell someone you’re called for jury duty; they’ll likely respond as if you’re having a root canal. And yet, having grown up and worked around courtrooms, I’ve always been acutely aware of how important jurors are.
The best jurors, I believe, are acutely aware of their own shortcomings. And they must be able to see a little of themselves in the humanity of those accused.
I believe that was part of the lesson Jesus had for those eager to accuse a woman caught in adultery. (John 8:1-11)
Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once more he bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the eldest, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus looked up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again.
Since I wasn’t there, I don’t know what Jesus wrote in the dust. But I know what would have sent me away: A list of my own failures, hidden in the secrecy of my own heart.
I believe today’s judgmental, outrage-fueled society is made possible precisely because we turn our eyes from the lines written in the dust – about you and me.
The danger of “no regrets”
In a court of law, one does not have to feel regret to be guilty. Prisons are full of those proven to have committed a felony yet have no sense of guilt or regret – or even the legitimacy of the law under which they are convicted.
The concepts of guilt, consequences, and regret extend beyond our legal system to how we treat and honor God and his creation.
In his book, The Power of Regret: How Looking Backward Moves Us Forward, author Daniel Pink found living life with no regrets to be unhealthy nonsense.
Regret is not dangerous or abnormal, a deviation from the steady path to happiness. It is healthy and universal, an integral part of being human. Regret is also valuable. It clarifies. It instructs. Done right, it needn’t drag us down; it can lift us up.
Life is full of choices. Some involve action, others deliberate inaction. It’s inescapable. As a child, my actions taught me a painful lesson about hands and hot burners. And my inaction, when it came to my homework, had consequences too.
As an adult, the same rules apply. While my actions and inactions impact me, the ones I regret most – those that whisper through my brain as I try to nod off at night – are those that damage others.
Disappointment vs. Regret
Life is full of disappointments, such as being laid off or failing to get the job offer really wanted or needed. Those bitter pills of regret that keep me awake at night are different.
In his book, Pink discusses the difference. “One influential study found that roughly 95 percent of the regrets that people express involve situations they controlled rather than external circumstances,” he wrote.
My regret is different than my disappointment. It is someone’s “fault.” And that someone is me. According to Pink, “That makes regret different—and far more distressing—than a negative emotion like disappointment.”
A story of regret
My relationship with regret can be relatively selfish: I’ve harmed someone, and perhaps acknowledge it, care about it, and regret it. Why? Because hurting someone else makes me feel horrible.
Nearly 30 years ago, I harmed my grandmother when I put myself first, leaving her alone one Christmas. Her look of hurt when I visited on Dec. 26 broke my heart. I apologized, and she forgave me. Yet I know her forgiveness came from love, not the absence of emotional pain.
A month later, she died. I had her love and forgiveness but no chance for an emotional “do-over” the following Christmas. That regret led me to firmly resolve to avoid repeating that damaging behavior. I’ve been partially successful.
Life with no regrets?
Over the years, many have told me they live life with no regrets. By this, I suspect they mean they try not to lose sleep over an unalterable past. That does not mean they don’t use regret to make better choices next time.
To truly have no regret – concern or remorse about other people’s distress – can be a sign of antisocial personality disorder.
Christians are judged by secular society for hypocrisy because they do what they know is wrong. Yet Christians are Christian precisely because they know they’ve been hypocrites, harming themselves and others when they know better. An honest and self-aware Christian knows they struggle their entire life with harmful-to-others selfishness.
Saul of Tarsus
This bitter fact is acknowledged by Saul of Tarsus, more commonly known by his Roman name, Paul.
For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do,” he laments in his letter to the Romans. “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Romans 7:19 & 24)
Dan Fogelberg
Two thousand years later, this struggle seemed familiar to a then 23-year-old singer-songwriter, Dan Fogelberg, in his Billboard-charting single, Part of the Plan.
I have these moments all steady and strong
I’m feeling so holy and humble
The next thing I know, I’m all worried and weak
And I feel myself starting to crumble …
Your conscience awakes and you see your mistakes
And you wish someone would buy your confessions
Bob Dylan
Seven years after Fogelberg’s revelation, a 40-year-old Bob Dylan described the same struggle in his single, Every Grain of Sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beams down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay
Pope Paul VI
Both singers hint at a truth described in the document Joy and Hope (Gaudium et Spes), released by Pope Paul VI in 1965. Regardless of one’s religious faith – including none – our hearts and consciences can lead us to regret.
In the depths of his conscience, man detects a law which he does not impose upon himself, but which holds him to obedience. Always summoning him to love good and avoid evil, the voice of conscience when necessary speaks to his heart: do this, shun that. For man has in his heart a law written by God; to obey it is the very dignity of man; according to it he will be judged. Conscience is the most secret core and sanctuary of a man. There he is alone with God, Whose voice echoes in his depths.
You are not alone
Living in the ache of regret – that pain that chokes the breath of conscience and good cheer – need not be a permanent state. As Daniel Pink described, there is an opportunity to allow regret – perhaps accompanied by years of accumulated pain – to lift you up.
Do you suspect it may be true that within your heart is a law written by God? Have you sensed a time when, alone with God, you may have heard His voice echoing in your depths?
If you seek to convert the pain of regret into a positive force, you are not alone. From Paul to Fogelberg and Dylan, humanity seeks relief. You can take a small step – that may feel huge: Visit your local parish.
You need not be Christian, Catholic, or even religious. Do what I did: Sit in the back near a ready exit as you quietly observe a mass. And when you’re ready, schedule an appointment with the parish priest to ask questions, tell your story, and consider what comes next.
You can move on from looking back. Have hope. The sun can beam down upon the steps of your time to light the way and ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
Image Sources:
1. Rocsilva, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
2. Jesus and the Adulterous Woman. Guercino, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
