The Power of Admitting When We're Wrong .... And Need Help

To Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, there are four important sentences which lead to wisdom. He insists that all new recruits to his department in the Quebec Surete learn them and use them often. They are:-

"I was wrong."

"I made a mistake."

"I don't know."

"I need help."

Of course, Gamache is a fictional creation, the brainchild of Louise Penny, whose insightful crime novels are written with much heart.

But the above lines are worth memorizing, because we all need to use them, and even more so if we're in the Work or working the Steps, or both.

Without honesty, without admitting when we're wrong and when we need help, we can never see the truth about ourselves. And if we can't see that, we can't change. We stay stuck at a particular note in the octave, a certain level in the Steps, and we can make no further progress.

We've all known people in the Work who are quite unable to see themselves, incapable of honesty about themselves. They may glimpse the truth for a moment, but they find it so frightening that they quickly turn away and let a whole crowd of self-important I's take centre stage to distract them and us from the truth.

In the Steps, it's necessary to be honest so that we can make a personal inventory; first, we work the first three Steps so that we have enough emotional and spiritual support to be able to stand seeing the truth, and only then do we go on to list our defects and assets.

In the Work, we must be honest if we are to attain any spiritual insight. If we believe we are always in the right, why do we want to work on ourselves? Obviously, at a deep level we know that all is not right within us, and that we need to learn, to change. But superficially we may be too frightened to admit that truth into our consciousness, let alone to our teacher or to others in the group. And when this happens, we end up leaving the Work before we have achieved any real progress.

Either we leave of our own accord, because we realize that we are not getting anywhere, even though we don't understand why; or we are told to leave, because our unwillingness to make real efforts is a drain on the energy of the group and the teacher.

We've all come across the Work student who is so bright they seem to make great progress - and then it all suddenly stops. Why? Because never have they seen themselves as they are. Never have they seen their own real character defects, in the language of the Steps; in the Work, they are asleep, and so blind to the reality of themselves.

They cannot feel remorse. Therefore, they cannot change. We see in such a student's life the evidence of willed blindness in the broken relationships that litter their past. Everything would change in an instant if they could only take a long, clearsighted look at themselves, but this is precisely what they refuse to do. They lack the courage to allow themselves to feel remorse.

This theme is particularly relevant now because Autumn is the time of year when remorse and spiritual change are inextricably linked. On Tuesday evening Yom Kippur - the Day of Atonement - begins, when Jews all over the world fast, pray, and seek forgiveness from God for the sins they've committed against Him in the previous year.

But - and this is what makes this fast so unique - they do not seek God's forgiveness for sins committed against other people. God cannot forgive them the harm they have caused another person. Therefore, in the ten days which are called the High Holy Days in Judaism, the period leading up to the most sacred day of the year, they are obliged to seek out everyone they have wronged in the preceding year, and sometimes even people they've harmed years ago, if the need comes into their consciousness.

Recently, I read how one Jewish woman was greatly surprised to receive a telephone call from someone she hadn't seen since High School, many years ago. That person was now dying of cancer, and had called to ask for her to forgive him for bullying her in school. Needless to say, she did so, and it was a very moving conversation in which both were healed of old wounds.

Jesus tells us that if we have a grudge or resentment against someone we need to deal with it before we approach God.  We need to forgive whoever has harmed us, just as we ourselves need forgiveness from others.

Without honesty, we stay at a low level in the Work Octave. We've all known students who, each meeting, tell the group solemnly how they've carried out the task perfectly - even when we know quite well that they didn't, because nobody could.

Or they missed doing the task that week, but it was all right, because they learned something ..... and they justify their omission on the grounds that they understood better than the teacher or their fellow group members what it was they needed to learn. They are never, ever wrong. Their sleep is never disturbed.

In AA, we come across the same reactions countless times. The alcoholic who's still basically a "dry drunk" continues to whitewash his own misdeeds, or blames other people for them. It was his parents' fault for the way they brought him up ..... or his girlfriend's, for being late to a date .... or their best friend's, for allowing him to carry on drinking when he was way over the top.

Only when someone admits, at last, that there is nobody else to blame - that he alone is responsible for his mistakes, that he was wrong, and needs help - can they begin to recover from addiction.

And only when a Work student sees clearly how they've messed up their task, forgotten to remember themselves, caused harm to others in the group and have failed to pull their weight - for whatever reason - can she start, for the first time, to really work.

Our contemporary culture encourages everyone to believe they're right, that they must never apologize, that their insecurities must always be indulged and soothed. That serves to calm and justify, but not to increase consciousness. Such attitudes put us to sleep, and sleep is what so many people want.

If we are to wake up, we need to ask for the gift of insight; insight into ourselves, and to how we fall short. It is painful, but it is the pain of the surgeon's knife, which must be wielded before healing may take place.