Essay: A Call for Forgiveness.
It is incredibly frustrating that even as I write the following, I will never bring it to full fruition.
I must forgive all, for all.
This year I have begun a yearlong journey to grow in mercy for others and myself. For the month of January, I focused my attention on forgiveness. I am convicted, to say the least. (Brief disclaimer: a lot of my moral grounding in this post will come from a Biblical understanding of the world; however, I do believe there is merit in forgiveness for the Christian and non-Christian alike. There just might be differing grounding for the virtue.)
According to The Greater Good Magazine (a science mag sponsored by UC Berkeley), “psychologists generally define forgiveness as a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness.” This is the definition of forgiveness I mean when using the word throughout this essay. (I may add some clarifiers or personal additions later.)
Sit with that definition for a moment. Maybe read it again.
Forgiveness is not simply a warm, fuzzy feeling. Forgiveness is not a loosely strung phrase of “I forgive you.” Forgiveness is not forgetting. Forgiveness is opposite our being. Forgiveness is a heart, soul, and mind posture. It is the act of dying to self-desire out of a deep understanding of the “other's” humanity. In short, forgiveness is hard.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Firstly, why forgiveness? If it’s as hard as I just rambled on about, why even worry about it? Well, Alexander Pope in his “An Essay on Criticism” puts it succinctly, “To err is human; to forgive divine.” Human beings do horrible things to each other. We curse each other, steal from each other, and harm each other; in short, we fail each other. Therefore, should we not likewise seek to uphold each other? Yes, we understand the pain and hurt that our chafing existences cause each other, but it is not enough to be content with understanding. Rather, listen to the inner rumblings of the soul. It sings a steady, yet shushed, refrain. As we have the breath of life in us, our souls are inclined towards divine things. The foremost of which is forgiveness. That is what makes forgiveness so hard; it is not of our nature, but distinctly of the divine. In pursuit of diving deeper into a relationship with Him that gives us breath, we must grow to love what He lives and breathes: forgiveness.
As we begin to see our own desperate need for forgiveness, the easier it becomes to walk in forgiveness. (NOTE: I said easier, not easy.). There is a vast ocean of difference. I was recently talking with a dear friend of mine, and we discussed the idea of reflection as a soul mirror. The idea is as follows: when we look inside ourselves upon meditative reflection, journaling, creative writing, or whatever form of stillness and solitude one practices, our strengths and our weaknesses grow evident. You cannot hide from yourself when you are checking yourself. Therefore, all comes to light. There should be features we like and are proud of, but, if our mirror is good, it should also reveal our soul in actuality. True reflection results in choice: stagnancy or action. The idea of self-reflection being the soul mirror is crucial in my understanding of forgiveness. For if we do not see ourselves honestly, we remain relationally and spiritually stale.
At this point in my essay, I want to confront a potential rebuttal before I continue advancing my argument for forgiveness. I am fully aware of the notion that forgiveness perverts justice (my intrinsically cynical mind often presents this to me), however, I would like to argue that TRUE forgiveness rather furthers justice. The two are not mutually exclusive and rather go hand in hand.
Justice is the concept of a wrong made right. It is the fulfillment of retribution. It is getting what you deserve. Forgiveness is a wrong being made right. Forgiveness is the taking on of retribution. Forgiveness is the acknowledgment of what the perpetrator deserves, BUT displaying radical empathy and mercy. They are not inverses. True forgiveness does not abandon the notion of justice; it simply adds a nuanced dimension.
Let us dive into a case to provide body to the abstract. Imagine that you have created a beautiful piece of art. You have poured countless hours into this masterpiece and are immensely proud of it. Imagine also that you have been invited to a party that your younger sister deeply wants to attend. But instead of fighting for her to attend with you, you simply belittle her. So, in her anger, as you attend the party, she takes your work and tosses it viciously into the fireplace. (Do you recognize the reference? Let’s call the older sister Jo and the younger Amy. The boat of choice has ruthlessly left its wake.
At first glance, we may interpret the younger sister’s actions as petty, immature, and cruel (in reality, this is often the position that I lean towards), but with further analysis we may see it as an incredibly perverted sense of justice in her eyes. Jo loves art. Amy loves people. Jo has withheld the possibility for Amy to see people, and so, Amy destroys the ability for Jo to see her art brought to full fruition. While her actions are not understanding or kind, if we zoom out for a moment, we see the subconscious moral reasoning behind her actions. She is simply giving Jo the same treatment she was given. I do concede that what Amy did was not socially correct, which perhaps is a part of a refined understanding of justice; she engaged in reciprocal moral action in response to Jo. However, something about that last sentence just doesn’t sit right inside. The two actions seem inequivalent. But, because of how the two sisters have a dissonant weighting of art and relationships, Amy’s response makes logical sense.
This example displays one of the primary reasons forgiveness is such a valuable virtue. We are humans; we do not possess the ability to fully understand each other. Because we cannot fully realize others, it is important that we acknowledge that we will fail them. Our existences cannot help but chafe against each other. Forgiveness is the soothing balm of life.
In the case provided, if Amy had forgiven Jo for how she had been hurt instead of retaliating, not only would Jo’s novel still be intact, but also pieces of their relationship as well. For forgiveness does not just mean forgetting feelings and shoving emotion under the rug. Part of diving deeper into a relationship with another is explaining our souls to others. If someone truly cares, they will not scoff at this confession and rather listen even if they will never truly understand. This was an opportunity for Amy to firstly, engage in the choice of forgiveness; secondly, tell Jo how her actions made her feel; and thirdly, grow in resilience. (I will come back to this last point soon.) Jo would also be given the gift of greater ability to perceive Amy’s heart as well as the option to ask for forgiveness and grow in humility. The KEY here is that Amy would have already chosen to forgive Jo, no matter her response. That’s the idea of attitudinal forgiveness prior to reconciliatory forgiveness. (These differing, yet deeply correlated, definitions of forgiveness are fundamentally fascinating.)
Resiliency and forgiveness coincide due to the freedom forgiveness provides. When we engage in forgiveness, we let go of the hurts that others have inflicted upon us. We let go of the chains of the past that imprison our present and future. If we do not forgive, we may allow those who have hurt us to drive our lives. If we let words and actions define who we are, the ones who enacted these hold more sway over our lives than we should give them. Theologian Tim Keller explains this through the medieval word “wraith.” He provides the definition, saying a wraith “is an old word for a ghost, a spirit that can’t rest. Ghosts, according to legend, stay in the place where something was done to them, and they can’t get over it or stop reliving it. If you don’t deal with your wrath through forgiveness, wrath can make you a wraith, turning you slowly but surely into a restless spirit, into someone who’s controlled by the past, someone who’s haunted” (Forgive, 163). To avoid fading into walking wraiths, we must seek the transformative power of forgiveness. The more we practice this, the stronger our tolerance for pain grows, and the deeper our innate sense of value and worth grows. For if the words and actions of others do not define who we are, then we are free to be our true and unburdened selves, and as I briefly touched on before, the greatest gift we can give is letting others see glimmers of our souls and in turn, allowing the possibility of deeper relationships.
To hurt is to be human; to harm is to be human. Forgiveness is the ability to see past ourselves and offer the gift of grace and provides humanity with a hospital to heal our wounds. As Sylvia Fraser so beautifully puts it, forgiveness is the cornerstone of healing.”
