I’ve never seen the Canadian political environment so polarized, petty, and unforgiving as it is now. Anger is seen as strength, and compromise as weakness. It’s bloody for the country and deeply harmful for the body politic. It stabs the soul and the psyche, and people really should know better. Especially as they claim to believe in Canada and the unity for which we are supposed to stand.
This became especially poignant for me quite recently as I sat in hospital with a man who was clearly dying. He’d lived a long life and wasn’t in too much discomfort. That’s a gift in itself because as a priest I can assure you it’s not always the case. I wish I could say otherwise.
But there was something punching away at him, an irritant that was evidently causing him much pain and hurt. After a while he trusted me enough to share what it was. He had lost contact with his only child, a son, many years ago. As is common, the original cause had been magnified by time and distance. I did ask why but it was clear that he didn’t want to say any more.
I asked him if he wanted me to try to find his son. He knew, we both knew, that life was coming to an end. “Do what you damned well like”, he said. In my experience that passes for enthusiasm. Take what you can get and move forward.
Their surname was sufficiently uncommon for me to find four possibilities, and the second phone call led to the right person. I called and introduced myself. Long pause. I said some more, explained in detail. Further silence. Then, “What does he want of me? I mean, what does he want of me!” I said he wanted nothing, but that perhaps for both their sakes a brief meeting, if it wasn’t too traumatic or triggering, might be a good thing. “Give me the address”, he said. “I doubt I’ll come but whatever. Whatever.”
Two days later the nurse asked to see me. There was, she said, someone here for the patient. He’d asked for me to stay while he visited. Of course. And there he was. In his 50s, well-dressed, fit looking. The two men stared at each other. Then the son ran to the bed and embraced his father. All I could hear between the tears from both of them was, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” bouncing back from father to son, and son to father.
I offered to leave but they both said no. There I was, a stunned observer of beauty postponed. The tears dried, they spoke, tried to explain and understand why a serious but not invincible argument has led to two decades of loneliness and regret.
Then came the son’s wife, then his children — the grandchildren of this flawed but good man on his deathbed. I said I had to take a call but in fact went to another room to weep.
The next day the man’s mortal life, his time in this land of mere shadows, was completed, and his son, his daughter-in-law, and his grandchildren were there for the passing. So were grace, love, and forgiveness. I pray I will never forget it.
To forgive isn’t to surrender or submit. To reconsider one’s position isn’t to “sell out”, and to make a leap of empathy isn’t “woke” or “politically correct”. No, it’s human. And humanity at its best and most real and full. It’s certainly transformed my life and changed many others.
Yet social media is distended with armchair warriors roaring their defiance and rudeness in a sad, broken attempt to display toughness, and that’s now mirrored even in federal politics. Reluctant as I am to be a partisan, I have no option but to point to those on the right as being the main culprits. There are fanatics on the hard left, but they tend to be fringe players. Within conservatism it’s often leaders and major influencers who drag the whole process into the mud. Misleading sound bites, outrageous claims, and empty bombast.
Rethink, listen, forgive, and improve. If an estranged father and son can do it, so can those who aspire to high office. Time is running out, and I’m frightened that if we’re not careful and wise we’ll follow the American path and lose the Canada that we’ve cherished for so long. The country isn’t broken, but some would like to have it that way.
