FORGIVENESS strikes me as far more virtuous than I had heretofore realized. Of course, like any other good, we should not forgive no matter what. It is certainly possible for a person not to merit forgiveness. But what I should like to reject is the idea that there are certain acts which in and of themselves are unforgivable—acts which, by their very nature, are unforgivable. I am not sure that this idea even makes sense; and, in any case, I am not sure that this is a good idea from the standpoint of humanity.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, I do not accept the Christian idea that we should forgive merely because, in virtue of being human, we all make mistakes. That is true enough. Still, there are lots and lots of mistakes that I am not about to make—at least not in the absence of a quite radical change in my life. Thus, it is exceedingly difficult to imagine a situation in which I would commit cold-blooded murder or a situation in which I would rape another person.
Why, I can barely imagine myself getting into a good fight. So committing cold-blooded murder or rape is way beyond the pale. I am undoubtedly flawed. But there are, in fact, limits to the ways in which I am flawed, in that some modes of evil are not something that I would ever do. So the Christian idea alluded to in the preceding paragraph does not seem quite applicable in those cases where a person has every good reason to believe that the wrong in question is utterly beyond anything that I would ever do. We may all make mistakes. However, it is simply false that all of us make all the mistakes that there are to be made.
My view is not what I referred to as the Christian review. Rather, I hold that it is in principle possible for anyone to redeem herself or himself, whereas the Christian view can often be seen as requiring that a person forgives even if the wrongdoes not redeem herself or himself.
Imagine, for instance, a person such as Opidopo who commits a violent rape. I think that it is possible for such a person to redeem himself. In prison Opidopo could come to grips with the wickedness of what he did; and devote the rest of his life giving lectures about the wrong that he did; and helping others not to commit that wrong. He might, for instance, provide those who would commit rape with insights that would help them to recognize when they are on the verge of committing such a deep and that would help them to take steps to prevent them from committing such a deed. Opidopo begins each lecture with a deep and contrite apology for the wrong that he committed. He begs for forgiveness over and over again.
My view is that Opidopo has redeemed himself. Of course, he did not undo the wrong that he did. But it is obvious that nothing can. But that surely is the wrong concern. The correct concern is whether or not his character has in fact changed in the right way. And this question does not receive a negative answer merely because the wrong done cannot be undone.
My view is that in the scenario that I have given, it is clear that Opidopo has redeemed himself and has earned forgiveness. Thus, I hold that not forgiving him bespeaks something mean and vicious.
As I have said, there are wrongs that cannot be undone and there are wrongs for which no compensation is possible. But these truths does not change the fact that a person has become contrite beyond words and that he has gone on year after year after year to do everything in his power to live a life that addresses the wrong that he did. In the face of this sort of behavior, merely focusing upon the fact that one has been wronged strikes me as woefully egotistical.
Needless to say, time is a factor here. On the one hand, I am not much moved by the person who merely shows contrition when caught or when being sentenced. These behaviors are easily enough. Nor am I much moved by the person who makes an effort to speak to the wrong that he did when he is being watched by another. On the other hand, though, there is something rather majestic about the person who year after year after year tirelessly address the significant wrong that he committed and who continually acknowledges with great contrition the wrong that he did.
I think that redemption for egregious wrongs has to be earned; and I think that in principle it is always possible to earn it. What is clear, of course, is that many do not earn redemption. Indeed, many willfully choose not to do so. However, I never once suggested otherwise. More importantly, the truth that many do not earn redemption for the egregious wrongs that they have committed should not blind us to the truth that a person can earn redemption if only she or he should so choose.
Now, if this idea seems implausible I suggest that we think about the future in the terms of never forgiving for certain wrongs. In so many ways, this attitude strikes me as a source of evil itself. Indeed, it privileges the wrongs of the past above the goodness of the present and future. And there is something woefully malicious about that.
Part of the very problem with the world today is that someone somewhere is determined to settle an old “moral” debt, a consequence of which is that an innocent person is wronged for something that his ancestors did.
The wrongs of the past are carried into the future by a very simple moral attitude: It is called holding a grudge. But what else is holding a grudge but simply refusing to forgive no matter what the person does. Holding a grudge is tantamount to making a commitment to not forgive a person, no matter what he does. And I cannot, for the life of me, see how this a good moral lesson to teach the future.
Forgiveness as I conceive of it is not a form of weakness. Quite the contrary, it demands excellence on the part of the wrongdoer. And I unequivocally held that it is right to demand excellence of a wrongdoer; accordingly, it is right to refrain from forgiving a wrongdoer who fails to exhibit that excellence.
What strikes me as a weakness is a frailty that privileges ones harms over any and every good that a person might, out of deep, deep contrition, go on to do. That is weakness—the failure to have the wherewithal to rise above one’s pain and see the good that wrongdoer is now doing..
By contrast, I see nothing but strength and enormous strength at that when one can find the will to see the excellence that another has now committed himself to doing out of contrition notwithstanding the pain that one still suffers. That is strength. That is moral fortitude. That is morally admirable behavior—something that we can commend to the future.
What makes for a better moral world? Is it one in which we commit ourselves to holding a grudge for the wrongs committed against us? Or, is it one in which we find the wherewithal to demand the excellence that a wrongdoer has forever pledged himself to doing? Surely, the former alternative is none other than evil that claims to be justified—evil masquerading as pain.