Forgiveness – A Closer Look

Last month, I offered some thoughts on forgiveness.  The subject seems to have resonated with quite a few people.  It also gave rise to a question that I address in this article.

The focus of my article last month was on two major points.  The first is that forgiveness does not mean excusing, and the second is that forgiving does not mean forgetting the past.

Regarding the first point, following C. S. Lewis, I mentioned that forgiving and excusing are almost opposites.  Excusing means saying that no offense really took place, whereas forgiveness means acknowledging the injury yet not holding it against the offender.

Regarding the second point, and citing Saint John Paul II, I noted that “forgive and forget” is neither Scriptural nor sound advice; indeed, in many cases it isn’t even possible. Rather, “the truth is,” says Pope Saint John Paul II, “that one cannot remain a prisoner of the past, for individuals and peoples need a sort of ‘healing of memories,’ so that past evils will not come back again. This does not mean forgetting past events; it means re-examining them with a new attitude and learning precisely from the experience of suffering that only love can build up, whereas hatred produces devastation and ruin.”

Comments

After the article was published, there were many comments, both online and in person, from people who wondered about the possibility of such forgiveness. The most frequent concern came from those who contended that, in order to be forgiven, the offender should request forgiveness.  Without this request, forgiveness would be granted even when people do not ask for it and perhaps do not desire it. How could such forgiveness be just, the thought goes, since it would be “imposed” on the offender?

Let it be said at the outset that I am sympathetic to such a view: it is hard to forgive. Indeed, I think we can even go further: it is impossible to forgive, at least humanly speaking.

The “Catechism of the Catholic Church” (CCC) when discussing the Our Father,  does a great job reminding us that forgiveness is only possible by God’s grace (2842): “. . . Only the Spirit by whom we live can make ‘ours’ the same mind that was in Christ Jesus. Then the unity of forgiveness becomes possible, and we find ourselves ‘forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave’ us.”

Only by the Spirit does forgiveness become possible: the ability to forgive is a grace, and we need to ask for it constantly. It is precisely for this reason, that God’s forgiveness is a gift that is freely given, that our forgiveness must imitate His in being freely given.

Our Model

We see this in our supreme model for Christian life, that is, Christ Himself. At His crucifixion, “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do’” (Luke 23:34). Of course, they knew exactly what they were doing.  They were killing a man they had condemned to a most brutal and excruciatingly painful death. For their deeds, however, they did not ask for forgiveness. Yet Christ asked that they be forgiven, nonetheless.

The CCC continues noting that “2844 Christian prayer extends to the forgiveness of enemies, transfiguring the disciple by configuring him to his Master. Forgiveness is a high point of Christian prayer; only hearts attuned to God’s compassion can receive the gift of prayer. Forgiveness also bears witness that, in our world, love is stronger than sin. The martyrs of yesterday and today bear this witness to Jesus.”

This model of offering forgiveness, even when the offenders are not repentant, is imitated by the proto-martyr Saint Stephen. In Acts 7:60, as he is being killed, “he fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them’; and when he said this, he fell asleep.”

His assailants, however, were not repentant.  Indeed, we know that Saul was standing by, agreeing with what was being done.  And would go on to persecute the Christians before his conversion.

Charity

Yet, we find this forgiveness extended in many (if not all) of the martyr saints; recently Pope Francis commented that “the martyrs, in imitation of Christ and with His grace, turn the violence of those who refuse the proclamation into a great occasion of love, supreme, which goes as far as forgiveness of their own tormentors. This is interesting: the martyrs always forgive their tormentors . . .  The martyrs pray for their tormentors.”

It is clear, then, that forgiveness is something that can be offered even when the offender is unrepentant. Indeed, following the examples of Christ, Saint Stephen, and the martyrs, it would seem that such forgiveness is a great act of charity. It is a charity that loves the sinner, no matter how terrible the sin might be.

This is precisely the point of Saint John Paul II in his message for the 30^th day for World Peace. There he comments on the relation between forgiveness, love, truth, and justice.

Regarding love and truth, he notes: “Forgiveness, in its truest and highest form, is a free act of love. But precisely because it is an act of love, it has its own intrinsic demands: the first of which is respect for the truth. God alone is absolute truth. But he made the human heart open to the desire for truth, which he then fully revealed in his Incarnate Son. Hence we are all called to live the truth.”

To acknowledge the hurt another person caused isn’t to lack love or forgiveness; it is simply to live in the truth. It is precisely in that truth, however, that forgiveness finds its power. No matter how much harm or evil a person did, Christ’s love overcomes it, and hence the injured party, through grace, can as well.

Forgiveness, Truth, Justice

The Pope continues, emphasizing this connection between forgiveness, truth, and justice: “Forgiveness, far from precluding the search for truth, actually requires it. The evil which has been done must be acknowledged and as far as possible corrected . . .  Another essential requisite for forgiveness and reconciliation is justice, which finds its ultimate foundation in the law of God and in his plan of love and mercy for humanity. Understood in this way, justice is not limited to establishing what is right between the parties in conflict but looks above all to re-establishing authentic relationships with God, with oneself and with others. Thus there is no contradiction between forgiveness and justice. Forgiveness neither eliminates nor lessens the need for the reparation which justice requires, but seeks to reintegrate individuals and groups into society, and States into the community of Nations” [emphasis added].

In other words, forgiveness doesn’t do away with justice. However, the goal of justice is not simply to re-establish the order between the offender and offended.  That goal would be too short-sighted. Rather, justice has as its goal the return of a balanced relationship between God, one’s self, and others.

In short, we can say that while forgiveness doesn’t cast aside truth or justice, it is also a free act of love, just like the love Jesus revealed for each one of us as He died on the cross. Yes, in an ideal world, the offender would realize that they have erred, and, in asking for forgiveness, the offender could restore in justice what was wronged. However, the world we live in is far from ideal.

Seeking Truth and Justice

While truth and justice are to be sought, forgiveness is not contingent upon them. It could not be otherwise. For instance, in the case where an offender cannot make restitution, or if the offender has died or cannot be reached, the truth might still come out. But justice, at least in human terms, cannot be served. Nevertheless, forgiveness can, and, with the help of grace, should be offered.

Such forgiveness imposes nothing on the offender, just as the Church, with her teachings and dogmas, “imposes” nothing.  What she does is “propose.” She proposes a better way to live, one that is in accord with God’s designs and with our dignity as His beloved sons and daughters.

By offering forgiveness, the offended party is offering a participation in Christ’s love to the offender, whether the offender knows it, acknowledges it, accepts it, or not. The invitation, like Christ’s love, remains open.  But passing through that door remains the prerogative of the individual.

This forgiveness is the example offered to us by the martyrs, but also by many saints.

Mother Teresa and Forgiveness

Perhaps the best example of this is found in the life of Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

In 1995, atheist Christopher Hitchens published a very vulgar book (so much so I won’t even include the title here) attacking Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta. In it, he tried to destroy everything she had done.  He tried to discredit her entire life and portray her as a deluded and dangerous woman.

A woman volunteer who went to Calcutta around the time the book came out asked Mother Teresa about it. Mother Teresa looked quizzical, and then replied simply: “Oh, the book. Yes, I haven’t read it. It matters not. He’s forgiven.”

It “matters not,” she said about a book that was that man’s best effort to destroy everything she held dear.  He was still forgiven. To this response, the woman replied: “Mother, he knows that you said he was forgiven, and he’s kind of angry about that, because he says he didn’t need to be forgiven, and that he didn’t ask you to forgive him.”

Recalling the saint’s response, the woman writes: “[Mother Teresa] said to me, as though I didn’t know what I was talking about, ‘It’s not I who forgives. It’s God. God has forgiven him.’” A man who had done everything to destroy the works of one of His saints, who didn’t even want to be forgiven, God forgave. Our forgiveness, as the saint so clearly understood, is merely a participation in the Divine forgiveness.

Become More Holy

I would add, as a sort of appendix, the conclusion of that anecdote: “Then [Mother Teresa] told me that some of the sisters had read the book, and I should talk to them. So, I did. The [perpetually professed] sisters had passed a copy of the book around and read it; then they fasted for a week and came together at the end of that week. Their prayer, while they were fasting, was that the Lord would show them what the book’s message to them was. I asked them, ‘Well, what’s the message?’ The sister who was telling me the story stood there, and smiling gently, she said, ‘Oh, it’s a call for us to become more holy’.”[1]

Isn’t this the way everything in life works? Isn’t everything, even the sufferings and offenses we must endure, a call for us to join Christ on the cross and unite ourselves with Him in His love for wounded humanity?

[1] Dallas Willard, A Place for Truth (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2010), 285-286.