Faith: Portraits of Reconciliation

Photographer Pieter Hugo went to Southern Rwanda recently, almost 20 years after the genocide that took nearly 1 million lives. What he captured in his tableaus, which he entitled “Portraits of Reconciliation,” goes so far beyond what most of us can imagine when we think about forgiveness. In one photo a woman’s hand rests on the shoulder of the man who killed her father and brothers. Karenzi and Nyiramana offer this testimony about the reality behind the photos: Karenzi, the perpetrator, said, “My conscience was not quiet, and when I would see her I was very ashamed. After being trained about unity and reconciliation, I went to her house and asked for forgiveness. Then I shook her hand. So far, we are on good terms.” Nyiramana, Karenzi’s victim, shares her remarkable response saying, “He killed my father and three brothers. He did these killings with other people, but he came alone to me and asked for pardon. He and a group of other offenders who had been in prison helped me build a house with a covered roof. I was afraid of him — now I have granted him pardon, things have become normal, and in my mind I feel clear.” As you can see, these photos don’t capture warmth between the reconciled, but simply that they are together. Each photo captures a Hutu perpetrator who was granted pardon by the Tutsi survivor.

            The non-profit organization, AMI, knew that these people can’t go anywhere else. They must live together. So they created a formal reconciliation training program to cultivate a measure of peace in the midst of an otherwise hopeless environment. “Hutus and Tutsis are counseled over many months, culminating in the perpetrator’s formal request for forgiveness. If forgiveness is granted by the survivor, the perpetrator and his family and friends typically bring a basket of offerings, usually food and sorghum or banana beer. The accord is sealed with song and dance,” the New York Times Magazine article reports. The forgiveness that is cultivated arises out of survival instinct, not benevolence. But this practical need for reconciliation doesn’t take away from the emotional strength it takes for them to live into it. Even more powerful is their willingness to be photographed together. This was a completely voluntary decision.

            John’s gospel for today (John 13:21-32) makes it clear that Judas’ betrayal of Jesus was something Jesus predicted, and something God would use for His glory. But the part of the story that we don’t hear today, but that we know is coming, is Judas’ overwhelming shame and grief once he realized the implications of what he had done. He hangs himself. When I saw Pieter Hugo’s tableaus of reconciliation, I immediately thought of Judas. In the time between when he betrayed Jesus and when he hanged himself, what could have been done? Beyond the common interpretations of this text lies a much deeper commandment to us. The clues to this commandment lie is one very crucial piece of the story. While Judas is Jesus’ betrayer, and Jesus knows this, Jesus still welcomes him at the table. Jesus feeds him. They are together. As we follow Christ this Holy Week on his heartbreaking road to the cross, we must wonder how things could have been different for Judas if he had been offered the opportunity for pardon and reconciliation.

We traditionally tend to focus on the betrayal here, and the ways in which we too have betrayed Christ by what we have done or left undone. And we must go there. We must recognize ourselves in the person of Judas if we are honest about our brokenness and serious about the gravity of what Christ has done for us—in spite of our brokenness. But I think we must go further down the road with Judas to find out what God asks of us in the midst of our brokenness. As the Body of Christ we are called to offer reconciliation, and to receive forgiveness. We are called to follow the Judases of our lives into reconciliation—for that is where Christ goes all the time. This is painful, uncomfortable, heartwrenching, and feels unfair sometimes. But it is what Easter day is all about. Let us meditate for a moment on these portraits of reconciliation. What are the portraits of reconciliation in your own lives? What are the portraits that have yet to be taken, but need to be taken? Nyiramana’s testimony could easily be Jesus’ mother Mary’s testimony, spoken about Judas, had he lived for such an encounter. “He killed my only son. He did these killings with the help of other people, but he came alone to me and asked for pardon. He and a group of other offenders helped me build a house with a covered roof. I was afraid of him — now I have granted him pardon, things have become normal, and in my mind I feel clear.” Every day we have the chance to build houses of reconciliation with sturdy roofs of grace. Here we can make a home for the Kingdom of God—a Kingdom in which hopelessness and destruction is transformed into new life. When we can do this, I believe that God seals it with a song and a dance.” Amen.