Robert Lowery

“I have done, in the main, exactly what I wanted to do.
Its possible effects on other people have interested me
very little. I have not written and published to please
other people, but to satisfy myself, just as a cow gives
milk, not to profit the diaryman, but to satisfy herself.
I like to think that most of my ideas have been sound
ones, but I really don’t care.”

“I’m sorry!” I heard my three year old granddaughter say to her fifteen month old sister. And then she ran off to play. It was an evening in which news shows were flooded with the “I’m sorry” statement from the current celebrity who had uttered something that had offended people. “I’m sorry” has been spoken by a diverse group of individuals in recent months–Mel Gibson, Michael Richards, Ted Haggard, and most recently (as of the writing of this piece), Don Imus. The recent cycle of stories involving the sentence seems to be briefer and briefer. I am certain you can think of some well-known personality or even some personally known individual who has said: “I’m sorry for what I said . . . for what I did.” And yet far too often the confessor goes off to play like a little child.

Recently on the morning news I heard about “I’m Sorry” legislation. It is an emerging medical malpractice strategy. The law, sponsored by U.S. Senators Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama, would permit a doctor to say to a patient “I’m sorry” in order to explain unforeseen outcomes and making early settlement offers because what has happened so that a lawsuit would not be filed.

I have begun to wonder if we need to put a moratorium on speaking the sentence or allowing it to be broadcast. Why? Because far too often it has become a disingenuous way to avoid personal responsibility or a desire not make a commitment to truly change our beliefs and behavior. Should we impose on ourselves a ban on speaking the words until we determine what we mean by these words? Should we not first consider what course of action we will take to put flesh and blood to the words “I’m sorry” before we confess?

Sorry. What does the word mean? When you look the word up in Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, you read the following definition: “feeling sorrow, regret, or penitence.” The last word, “penitence,” grabbed my attention. And then I looked it up and read that the term “implies sad and humble realization of and regret for one’s misdeeds (absolution is dependent upon sincere penitence. Repentance (a synonym) adds the implication of a resolve to change (repentance accompanied by a complete change of character . . . ”

Sorrow and penitence and repentance–weighty words these are. Their meanings challenge a culture of flippancy. Far too often adults mimic three year old children. There is a lack of sincerity and integrity by those who should know better. The seriousness of the situation is not quite grasped. And so our culture becomes jaded, illustrated in such pronouncements by those who hear the confessor: “He says he is sorry, but he doesn’t mean it . . . He is sorry he got caught . . . She is sorry because she lost her job . . . She is sorry because her reputation or pride have been attacked . . . He is sorry because he is embarrassed . . .” And the seeds of cynicism, suspicion, and mistrust are sown. The harvest is a bitter one in our country. The notion of community breaks down even more, and personal relationships are forever altered.

Far too often “I’m sorry” becomes a statement of narcissism. Children often say it to protect themselves from discipline. And a childhood statement in all its shallowness is carried over into adulthood. “I’m sorry. We say it to protect ourselves, promote ourselves or prop us up until the storm blows over and we hope that people will forget what we say or do. We don’t say it and show sorrow for the sake of the one who has been hurt by what we have done. We wallow in self-pity and feel sorrow only or primarily for ourselves. We are so absorbed in ourselves and the pain we have self-inflicted, that we ignore the distress of the one who has been wronged. The one who has been abused be damned or at least be ignored we think to ourselves.

Years ago John Denver penned a song built on this sentence. It is about lost love and his sorrow over it. But if we ponder the words, we see how self-centered the song is:

I’m sorry for the way things are in China
I’m sorry things ain’t what they used to be.
But more than anything else,
I’m sorry for myself,
‘Cause you’re not here with me.

“I’m sorry” focuses on the desires of the one who sings or says it and not on the one who deserves to see the fruits of sorrow, repentance, and penitence. No wonder the statement sounds so hollow, so emaciated. When we utter the statement people are really hearing us say: “More than anything else, you’re sorry for yourself . . .”

So how do we restore the power of what should be one of the most powerful statements we can make to someone? True sorrow leads to change in thinking and a change in behavior. It is a matter of the heart as well as the head. To say “I’m sorry” must be costly. Genuine sorrow demands changes in our character and conduct. Frankly, I don’t think we get it!

In our lives what should be a period of confession becomes a time of containment of the damage that can be done to our egos. What should be a genuine apology becomes an occasion for asserting ourselves. What should be a time of contrition is betrayed by our efforts to control the damage done to our pride.

Decades ago there was a movie in which one of the main characters rebuked another when she said: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Maybe self-love and self-preservation but not love as a commitment to seeking the best for people no matter how unlovely, un-lovable, or how unlike they are from us.

Perhaps the power of a poem written in the first century would restore the power of uttering “I’m Sorry” to someone we have injured if we would live out the radical truths the poet expressed:

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding going or a clanging cymbal.

Love never fails.

Such is the power of love. And such will restore the power of saying “I’m Sorry.”

Related posts:

1. Restoring the Power of “I’m Sorry”