2 Samuel 10
A fake apology is offensive, manipulative and unkind. Why would someone take advantage of another’s vulnerability?
But what if it seems fake when it isn’t?
A middle-aged woman wearing a bright green dress stands on the sidewalk. A square white 1970s purse hangs over her left arm, and a small hat sits tilted on her head. She seems oddly dressed up as she waits for the bus. It is Sunday. Perhaps she is going to church. A white slip hangs one inch below the hem of her dress in the back where she can’t see it. She probably isn’t aware of it and would be embarrassed to walk around all day like that. “Ma’am, excuse me, your slip is showing. I thought you would want to know.” She glares back, fire in her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” I manage, as she swings the white purse. It hits me on the back, leaving me more stunned than hurt.
I reallywas sorry. But it didn’t matter. I had invaded her space and she didn’t like it. Felt threatened by it. She was paranoid schizophrenic. There were reasons she was afraid. But between being struck by her purse and discovering her diagnosis, I was completely dazed. What had I done wrong?
Sometimes it is not this clear. We reach out to someone in grief and, after struggling for the ”right” words, we say something, anything. The person in grief turns away and we wonder, “Did I say the right thing? Did I inadvertently cause pain? Am I misunderstood?”
Misunderstandings are common in times of stress, whether between individuals or groups. Even nations become allies or enemies over “small” misunderstandings — the U.S. and Great Britain conflict over a slaughtered hog (the Pig War of 1859), or the Greek and Bulgarian conflict in 1925, triggered by a Greek man shot while chasing his runaway dog over the Bulgarian border.
In 2 Samuel 10, there is a misunderstanding between leaders of two kingdoms. Nahash, King of the Ammonites, has just died. While alive, King Nahash had shown much kindness to David during a time when he was running from Saul. Now King David wants to return that kindness by honoring the news of Nahash’s death, showing sympathy to the son, Hanun. But Hanun can’t afford to trust David, or believe that his motives are pure. To his detriment, he concludes that David’s messengers are spying to overthrow the kingdom.
The rest of the story is bloody and R-rated.
Sometimes an apology, no matter how sincere, is not, or cannot, be accepted. The fallout can get complicated. Everything we do, no matter the motive, has a consequence. Sometimes it is not the one we expect. An apology can unveil secrets, hurt other people, create a wound that lasts a lifetime or even hurt the one apologizing. An apology is not the quick fix that we sometimes want it to be. Behind every wound is a history, and within every history there are unknowns.
A woman struggling with paranoia and schizophrenia had managed to create for herself a safe space while waiting for the bus. I unknowingly shattered that. A simple “I’m so sorry” is not going to fix it.
—Carla Gober-Park, PhD, is assistant vice president for Spiritual Life and Mission at Loma Linda University Health, as well as director of the Center for Spiritual Life and Wholeness.