PARISH BULLETIN: MORAL ISSUES
The Language of Apology: Effective Words
James F. Keenan |  Spring 2009

Words, especially words expressing strong emotions, have power to hurt or heal.

Are there words that have a lasting effect? Are there expressions that can change our own personal world? Are there phrases that, when we hear them, so deeply affect us that the moment of hearing the phrase becomes memorable?

I think that the language of love is almost always effective. Whenever we hear someone say, “I love you,” we hear it as something new, terribly important, and resonant with our deeper feelings. We do not forget easily the instances in which the words “I love you” are spoken, and we can recall our own responses to such occasions. Whether those words were welcomed, a surprise, longed for, or expected, generally speaking, “I love you” leaves a lasting impression on us.

Words can deeply affect us. The horrible phrase, “I hate you,” even as we read it is hurtful and disturbing. We do not want to have it said to us and we do not want it said at all. Like an expression of love, it is a very effective phrase; it causes in the hearer hurt and pain, which do not easily pass away. The words leave a lasting impression on the recipient, an impression that is never easily undone. In fact, sometimes the words affect the hearer so much that one’s relationships with others become tainted simply because the hate words have had such an impact. Indeed, it is generally the intention of the speaker of the words to inflict this harm on the other.

There can be other phrases that affect us. Phrases like, “You are my best friend,” “I will also be faithful to you,” “I don’t know how I could ever get by without you.” These phrases of tenderness and affection stay with us; we remember the context in which they were said, and we remember the narrative of the moment.

Likewise, there are harmful phrases, not as harsh as “I hate you,” but still alienating and deeply felt: “I cannot trust you,” “You betrayed me,” “I think you are a selfish person.” Words like these have a lasting effect on us.

Words of Apology

Another phrase that has great possibilities to affect us are the words of apology. Each of us can remember how restorative these words are. Let me highlight this with a story.

While teaching at Weston Jesuit, I became the director of the licentiate program. I wanted it be one of the finest programs in the country. One year, a new licentiate student from overseas arrived who was lively and engaging, quickly liked by his fellow students and faculty. I began to think of him, however, as an “operator.” I discovered that he was doing some creative course planning: he was getting credit for two courses, while doing the same work for each. I confronted him on the matter and told him he could not do it. He responded by saying that the idea came from a faculty member, who was directing him in his research project. He accepted my position that he was only getting credit for one course. In hindsight, his explanation made perfect sense, but I did not trust him.

Now, having resolved this, I could have let it go, but I kept my eye on him. He knew that I was on the lookout and though he never said anything, he certainly knew.

Over the years he has become a priest and a theologian, a very fine one. He is as lively and engaging as the day he arrived at Weston. On one return visit we expressed simple greetings and after seeing him briefly I began to realize that years ago I had done him wrong.

Last year, however, he stayed at Boston College for a few weeks to do some writing. Seeing him prompted me to picture what his experience was during those two years at the licentiate. I thought, “What was it like being an international student, while knowing that your director had it in for you?” I also thought that whenever he and I were together in a group, for instance, when all the licentiate students met, he could see my trust of others contrasted by suspicion of him. I began to think not of my side of my actions, but his side of my actions. I was disturbed by what I had done.

I invited him out one evening. After a light conversation, I told him that I asked him out for a particular reason: to acknowledge that I was wrong, that I had treated him unfairly, and that I wanted to apologize. I also noted that I was new as the director and wanted to give the program credibility, but I did not need to sacrifice students along the way.

Not only was he relieved that I acknowledged that my assumptions were mistaken and harsh, but he was very moved when I said I was sorry for my disposition toward him and asked him to accept my apology. Strangely, he had always wanted my respect, but I had squandered his appreciation of me for years. Now I was apologizing and he felt finally welcomed. Subsequently he gave me a book that he had authored, with an inscription of gratitude and promise.

His acceptance of my apology made me feel very good, too. It liberated me from what I had done. I could see, too, how fine a person he was by the generosity of his forgiveness. I saw, in the light now of our reconciled conversation, that by not looking at how he was affected by my actions, I had remained in my uncritical and judgmental world. Above all I saw more clearly how I had alienated this fine fellow. Still, by accepting my apology, he helped me put behind myself the regret I had for my actions.

Apologies Are Effective

The late German theologian Franz Boeckle once wrote that until we confess our sins, we do not know them. The act of actually confessing our sins opens us up to understanding better the nature of our sins. We may admit to ourselves that we were wrong, but when we admit it to the one we have wronged, the act of admission opens to us far greater understanding about the nature of our fault. I have always thought Boeckle was right on this. Apologies matter

Of course, many do not believe this. Some of us are old enough to remember the banality of the movie Love Story and the popular debate it yielded over the words, “Love means never having to say you are sorry.” In the aftermath of that discussion most people realized that lasting love is only possible if apologies, forgiveness, and reconciliation are a part of the relationship.

Apologies matter. I could see in this fellow that by my apology, the long history of my suspicion of him was now lifted. He no longer felt excluded, and even though he knew throughout the ordeal to trust his own self and to think that I was the one who was wrong, still, by my acknowledgment, he was validated in the belief that I was unfair. No one likes misjudgment, and no matter what we tell ourselves about the one who misjudges, we still bear the weight of the other’s judgment. When he heard me apologize, the history of my poor treatment of him came to an end for him and for me.

Two years ago when I realized that I had wronged him, I could have let it go and just been friendly toward him. He would have welcomed the change but with some hesitancy. The same unease that had been between us would have remained, because the experience of years ago needed to be acknowledged. My words of apology allowed me to see what I had done, but also allowed him to know more clearly that it was my fault, not his. The words freed us both, and we are friends today.

“I’m sorry,” “It was my fault,” “I regret the harm I caused you.” These words liberate the oppressor and the oppressed. We saw their effectiveness just recently when Pope Benedict, aboard a plane to the United States, acknowledged his fault and those of his brothers in the sex abuse scandal. When he later met with the victims, I am sure both sides were affected. The words having been spoken and the guilt being acknowledged opened up the history of sin to new possibilities.

When the Australian government apologized to the Aborigines of the continent, everyone was affected, but especially the Aborigines. They were being liberated from a long history of harsh judgment, and their narratives were now being validated by those who for long periods of time thought otherwise.

We are very limited people, all too human. The act of apologizing is hardly a humiliating action, though many fear it is. It rather restores balances, removes harm, and offers hope. An apology matters to the one who offers it and to the one who receives it.

James F. Keenan, SJ, is Founders Professor in Theology at Boston College, Massachusetts.