“What he did is not forgivable,” the man says with composure. “How can it ever be all right to abuse a child? But I have let it go.”
And a woman, raised on the Prairies in a Finnish home, married a black man and had a son. She showed the infant proudly to her mother, whose reaction was a look of naked disgust. Her mother and that son, now a charming and successful adult, have since developed an affectionate relationship, but the daughter has not forgotten or forgiven the expression on her mother’s face.”The best I can do,” she says, “is that I have stopped hating her.”
Many people, like the gay man or the woman in a biracial marriage, find forgiveness an unreasonable dictate. Some assaults on the body or soul are unconscionable, they feel, and forgiveness is simply out of the question. It satisfies the requirements of their humanity that they gradually ease away from the primitive thoughts of revenge that once obsessed them.
When Simon Wiesenthal, the famed Nazi hunter, was in a German concentration camp, he found himself in a strange situation. He was taken to the bedside of a dying SS officer, a youth who had killed many Jews, and the young man asked him, a Jew, for forgiveness. Wiesenthal was silent and left the room, but was haunted ever after. Thirty years later, he contacted some of the world’s great thinkers and asked, what should I have done? Theologians such as Bishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama gently hinted that he should have been forgiving, for his own sake, but others, notably philosopher Herbert Marcuse, said that great evil should never be forgiven. In The Sunflower, a collection of fifty-three responses to Wiesenthal’s question, Marcuse wrote sternly that forgiveness condones the crime.
The moral vacuum left by the pervasive disuse and misuse of religious tenets has allowed a secular forgiveness industry to spring into being. People who yearn desperately to rid themselves of an obsession for vengeance will seek help in curious places. Since 1985, the University of Wisconsin–Madison has offered forgiveness studies, and an International Forgiveness Institute was founded there. Four years ago, the world’s first international conference on forgiveness drew hundreds of delegates to Madison. Stanford University has a forgiveness research project and people in California, a state on the cutting edge of self-absorption, are taking part in studies on the art and science of forgiveness. Self-help shelves in bookstores abound in titles such as Forgive Your Parents: Heal Yourself.
An odious US daytime television show, Forgive or Forget, features guests who say they owe someone an apology. They describe their offence, and then, ta-dah, the injured party appears on the appropriately tacky set and either grants or withholds forgiveness. Will the former foes embrace one another? The titillated audience can’t wait.
Apologies are iffy because often they are contrived or coerced. Apologies extracted by judges, mediators, and parents are thin gruel for the wronged person. One familiar genre of apology, the one which commences, “I am sorry you are feeling badly,” is particularly counterproductive because there is no admission of any responsibility; it is the other person’s problem for being thin-skinned. A sincere and remorseful acceptance of blame, however, can close a wound.
Psychologists are engrossed by the topic and so are theologians, philosophers, psychiatrists, and — surprise — cardiologists. Unforgiving people, some studies show, are three times more likely to have heart disease as people who don’t carry grudges. These findings raise the suspicion that the researchers may have the cart before the horse. Heart attacks occur more often in blow-top people who have unfortified egos, the very ones most apt to be relentlessly unforgiving. On the other hand, people who hold tolerant views of human nature and don’t seem to nurse grievances unduly tend to have blood pressures in the normal range.







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