Love's One Liner - We are not our mistakes, we are children of God who err.
When French soccer star Zinadine Zidane head-butted an opponent in the World Championship on Sunday, July 9 and was ejected, it was clear that millions would pass harsh judgment on this now hapless hero. In an instant, the great Zidane jeopardized his legacy as one of the finest players in the history of the world's most popular sport. When Italy went on to win, the hostility toward Zidane intensified. Announcers and other commentators heaped venom on this man's "shameful act." The hero of France had, in the eyes of many, suddenly become a goat. Would he, should he, will he, ever be forgiven?
Indeed, are any of us truly forgiven for our misdeeds - intended or accidental? Most of us ignore the long legacy of religious and other spiritual teaching about withholding judgment and extending forgiveness. We are quick to cast blame. "What a fool, what an idiot, how unforgiveable," we huff when someone else makes a mistake.
Putting aside the history of highly visible sports gaffs (Bill Buckner of the Red Sox comes to mind for his innocent, but fatal-to-victory, muff of a ground ball in the 1986 World Series) the real question becomes: why is it so hard for us to forgive?
Doctors and nurses are often sued for their mistakes as if money could somehow create healing. But the pain for these caregivers is often not measured in money but in the quanity of shame and harsh judgments of others, not to mention the calumny they heap on themselves.
And that is part of the problem with forgiveness. It's the difference between responsibility and shame - between holding people accountable and damning them as sinners. Forgiveness does not mean an instant endorsement of a bad choice. It does mean condemning the act and forgiving the person.
Caregivers are fired everyday, sometimes justifiably, for mistakes that jeapordize the safety and well-being of others.There is an important distinction, however, between chronic mistakes and the rare error made by an otherwise qualifed caregiver. And there is an even more important difference between the act of making a mistake and the person. We are not our mistakes and neither is anybody else.
One day, during the time I was President & CEO of Baptist Hospital System in Nashville, the news came of a serious mistake in the Central Services Department. A technician missed one of the steps during the instrument sterilization cycle. As a result there was a chance that up to thirty patients had been operated on by instruments less than completely clean.
Instantly, steps were initiated to assure the safety of each of these patients and to protect against infection. I also asked that each patient, through their doctor, be told of the hospital's mistake and that the hospital would take full responsibility.
But what about the technician? "Fire him," some said instantly. But several things stopped me from taking this action:
- the technician had a long and exemplary record of reliability and excellent performance. In fact, it was he who had noticed his error and reported it.
- the technician was horrified by his own mistake and deeply remorseful
- as a result, my sense was that this incident was likely to make him more reliable in the future. Most conscientious people become more careful, not less, after a serious mistake.
Some may have thought I was wrong to block termination of this employee. But I wanted to make a point. We all make errors. If they're rare, we're entitled to foregiveness and the chance to keep our jobs. If they're common, we lose our jobs, but we're still, all of us, entitled to be treated with respect because it is human to err. further, we want to encourage honest and prompt reporting, not punish it and thereby frighten others into silence. Loving care is about trust, openness, forgiveness.
I talked with my daughter about this. She was in her second year at Harvard at the time. "The Greeks built flaws into their heroes," she reminded me. "Why do we insist on perfection?" Yes, Achilles had his vulnerable heel. And the Greeks were, in so many ways, wiser than we are today. Still, so many faith traditions preach forgiveness. I think one of the main reasons it's hard to forgive is that blaming someone else always makes it easier on us. If someone else is at fault, then we don't have to carry the crushing burden of responsibilty, do we?
If I'm engaged in a pattern of irritability and disrespect toward others, and can keep blaming them for my behavior, than I don't have to take responsibility for making changes in myself. If I can blame you, than I don't have to face all the hard work I need to do to transform me.
So Frenchman turn their ire on Zidane because it's so painful to lose. They want him to shoulder at least part of the pain, whether he deserves it or not.
It probably helped the circumstance of the Central Service technician that no patients became ill. But I like to think he would be forgiven anyway. I can tell you that, so grateful was he not to be fired that he became an even more exemplary employee after this incident and, last time I checked, was still working at the hospital.
Everyone in an organization watches how errors are treated. Chronic mistakes are unacceptable because they risk patient safety. Isolated errors can provide a special opportunity for leaders to show the human side of a healing culture - to demonstrate both respect, wisdom and the most valuable of all leadership characteristics: love.
The Practice of Foregiveness:
1) It begins in the mirror. If we can't forgive ourselves, how can we forgive others?
2) Separate the act from the actor. We are not our mistakes. We are children of God.
3) Forgivness is not the same as approval. Forgiveness is not about approving negative behavior. It's about accepting the person not accepting mistakes.
4) Stop recording mistakes as if they were a list of sins to be stored up for later recounting. Take on responsibility, not shame.
5) Practice forgiveness by extending it to someone you don't think deserves it.
