I ran across a book the other day written by a Palestinian physician who suffered catastrophic loss in 2009 when two shells from an Israeli tanker exploded in the room next to him, killing three of his daughters and a niece. Even though he is angry, he strives to act as a righteous man, demonstrating that feeling angry is not the same as hate. His book is entitled, I Shall Not Hate.
That moving declaration reminded me of an experience of my own, many years ago. The circumstances were far less horrendous, but the lesson remains the same. “I will not hate.”
While our baby daughter and I were happily bonding, her father was removing himself farther and farther away. He was absent, even when he was home. We did have some happy days, but mostly he withdrew because being a husband and father was just too hard, far more demanding than the fantasy family he had envisioned in his mind. He was not a mean man—immature and self-absorbed and neglectful, but not mean. After several years, knowing my unhappiness, he asked, “Would it be easier if I left?” then admitted that he did not have the ego strength to do that. In the end, I would have to choose.
I agonized whether to go or to stay. I have long since forgotten the title and author of a book I picked up and read during that crazy-making time of decision. The author related her own experience of schizophrenia and treatment for the illness. During her lengthy hospitalization, she developed a strong romantic attachment to another patient, but the relationship ended badly when she was well enough to return home. She became very bitter and angry, blaming everyone for this lost love. I'll never forget the counsel her doctor gave to her, for it guided me through the painful days ahead of me. “You must learn to say goodbye without hating.” I was determined to do that. I. Will. Do. That. Over and over, I pledged to myself, “If I have to say goodbye, I will say it without hating.”
Of course, no marriage succeeds or fails through the actions of only one of the partners, but it was an honorable thing for this man to say to me, “I am sorry. It was my fault.” I respect that. The words are still true that I said to him before I drove away, “Thank you for the good times. Because there were some good times.” I kept the promise I had made to myself: I said goodbye without hating.
Feelings come and go. Anger cools off, disappointment fades, desire burns low—unless we decide to nurture them. Then love becomes a choice, and hate becomes an act of the will. That is why the doctor-author can affirm, “I shall not hate.” That is why, during the times in my life when I have had to say a goodbye, God has helped me to say it without hating.
Marjorie
