To err is human, to forgive divine

I have been doing some reading on forgiveness lately, and it got me to thinking about my own experiences, as well as my conception of forgiveness as a whole.

Outwardly, I probably look very good at forgiving. I try not to hold grudges, at least against those whom I will continue to have a personal relationship with. In fact, people have often chastised me for my continuing kindness towards those who have done me wrong in some way. Part of this is part of my neurotic obsession with being seen as a good, kind, worthwhile person. I can’t even stand the idea of someone who has betrayed me in some way thinking I am remotely unkind.

However, the article I am reading makes several intriguing claims about there being multiple components to forgiveness— behavioural (acting kind, or at the very least, not malicious), affective (overcoming resentment and anger), and cognitive (the more thinking and motivation based component). I’ve realized that in certain cases, I am guilty of what the author calls “hollow forgiveness”. I outwardly act kind and helpful, while inwardly waiting for some sort of recognition from them of what a bigger person I am being. This is hardly forgiveness, and actually feels a bit dirty to admit.

For example, I have an odd relationship with a fellow I dated nearly ten years ago. The details are for another time, but it will suffice to say that things ended in a rather cruel way on his part. Though I have not seen him since the tender age of 16, like clockwork, he pops back into my life every 2 or so years, usually looking for help. I find myself in the odd position of providing support to the guy who not only broke my heart, but also only comes into my life when he is feeling messed up, and falls off the face of the earth as soon as he is feeling better. It is also telling that I would never consider in a million years going to him for emotional support. Why, then, do I continue to provide an ear for this man? I want to be the bigger person. I want to be in the position of being able to forgive him. I want to believe that I have a duty to help him, as the simple fact that his teenage girlfriend is the only person he can call when he is feeling depressed make me feel sad and obligated. I want to act like he is forgiven.

But I have not forgiven him. This became clear in our most recent series of interactions, in which I became so vigilant to any signs that he was going to disappear after I helped him through his most recent crises that I got very angry at him in advance. It was clear that I hadn’t let his past transgressions go and was still carrying the hurt around- despite acting like I was fine.

He did disappear again soon afterwards. And I have decided that I am fine with not forgiving him, and I will not let myself be drawn into his games again. I don’t need to be the bigger person in this one, as my well-being is worth more.

But, as usual, I digress.

Forgiveness is also not simply letting things slide, or what the author calls habituation and dissipation. We all do this as well. We seemingly let something go, at least we don’t hold onto the anger and resentment, and gradually go back to old patterns of behaviour. But, when something reminds us of the incident, we still feel that indignation welling up again. This is an especially ugly beast in the face of arguments with our significant others- I know I have both brought up things from the past that still jump out for me every once in a while, as well as having things I thought were non-issues and long gone sprung on me.

Another thing this article claims is that to forgive is not to be naive about future likelihood of harm. Just because you forgive someone doesn’t mean things are back the way they were before and that you need to leave yourself susceptible to the same thing happening again. This helped me to realize that there is another person in my life I have genuinely forgiven. I always felt like I needed to qualify my forgiveness in my mind. I felt like her and I were close again, I always have high hopes for her, will do almost anything for her, and understand why she did what she did— but still felt like I should not put myself in a similar vulnerable position with her again. It is nice to know that having a bit of common sense and learning from the past does not preclude forgiveness.

I also wonder sometimes if forgiveness is always the amazing moral virtue we should all strive for. I do believe that most people should be given a second chance, as we’ve all done things we regret and will never repeat. Causing hurt in those we love is all the punishment most of us need.

I know every one looks at those parents whose children have been killed and are able to look the murderer in the eye and say “I forgive you” with amazing respect and awe. And maybe they are forgiving for their own piece of mind, rather than that of the killer. Yet, I still can’t understand how anyone has the capacity to forgive someone like that, or furthermore, how the perpetrators warrant forgiveness. But aren’t there some things that don’t deserve to be forgiven?