It is that time again. Each fall for the past decade our congregation has stepped into spiritual growth. Last year the topic was mindfulness. This week we begin to explore forgiveness. For over a month our small group will ponder the meaning and application of what it means to pardon.

It is not as if such subjects can be mastered, like when you ace an exam in Biology 101. Answer every question correctly. Know the material cold. Plus when you sit down hunched over a desk with a number two pencil you know that mitochondria is on the test. 

I suppose that part of the challenge is because forgiveness is not simply something you memorize. Theories to recite. It is a quality you assimilate into your way of being. Compassion melds with your vocabulary, centers your eyeballs when they want to roll, soaks into the crinkle of your eyebrows. Keeps your hands off your hips. 

Life has a tricky way of camouflaging infractions. Shading them with malicious designs. Ballooning the impact. Embellishing the circumstances. Minimizing actions that are in fact grievous. 

One time when I was shopping with three small children, they got the clever idea to nab a box of band aids off the shelf and put them on. It was naughtiness in action, but all I could do was laugh. Which did nothing to impart the seriousness of the situation. On another occasion the twins brought me a bunch of tulips, only they were filched from someone else's garden. Then there were flamboyant boys who rode too fast, jumped too soon, and landed with blood and tears. 

Those were the easy ones to forgive. But what of the others? 

What I hope to unpack in a season of focused attention, is not the skill of pinpointing another person's wrongs. A better use of my breath would be to try on mercy for size.