Forgiveness Without an Apology

Of all the things I thought might happen in my life, my name being spoken by a film star on stage at the Royal Court Theatre and my voice portrayed by a leading actor wasn’t high on the list. But it happened earlier this year when John Lithgow starred as Roald Dahl in Giant by Mark Rosenblatt. The reviews were outstanding, I had the pleasure of spending time with Lithgow and the rest of the stellar cast, and cliché aside, it was quite an evening.  

My connection to Dahl goes back to 1983 when as a very young journalist working for the New Statesman, I was asked to interview Dahl after he’d written a review of a book called God Cried, an account of Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 1982. But rather than an objective discussion he wrote of “a race of people” who had “switched so rapidly from victims to barbarous murderers”, and that the US was “so utterly dominated by the great Jewish financial institutions” that “they dare not defy” Israel.  

When I initially asked Dahl for an interview he was gracious and willing. The actual telephone interview began with me telling him I was a fan of his work. Then, sure that he’d make some sort of apology about the article, I asked about what he’d written. With no change of tone, he began, “There is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity. Maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews”, and then, “I mean, there’s always a reason why ‘anti-anything’ crops up anywhere. Even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” 

I was in my early 20s, just out of university, and frankly a little out of my depth. I wondered if I’d misheard him, or even if this was obscure satire. He confirmed that I hadn’t, that he meant it, and repeated it to make sure. I paused, gathered my thoughts, and then explained that three of my grandparents were Jewish and that what he’d just said was stupid and repulsive. It was as though I hadn’t spoken, hadn’t responded. He simply ignored me and continued, with some nonsense about how he’d fought in World War Two and that he and his friends never saw any Jewish soldiers. 

I stopped him and said that they couldn’t have looked very hard because there were hundreds of thousands, in all the allied armies, navies, and air forces. Many of them were heroes, and my grandpa, a Whitechapel tailor before the war, won medals fighting in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy. Jewish men and women were, I continued, probably over-represented in the armed forces. 

My interview was published in the New Statesman. There was some controversy and shock, but this was before social media and 24-hour news, and the entire incident seemed to pass within a week. It didn’t pass me of course, and I’ve never forgotten what he said and how I felt. In the years since then, my interview has sometimes been mentioned, often without acknowledgment. Even a family member who is a well-known journalist said to me once, “I didn’t know that was you!” Oh well, not being linked to Dahl won’t lose me any sleep. 

The play has changed all that of course, and I’m confident that it will transfer to New York, perhaps Toronto. I’ll try not to let the attention go to my head! But there’s another issue, a quintessentially Christian issue, and that’s the challenge of forgiveness. It’s something that should always be of concern but is particularly pertinent around the Christmas season, with thoughts and prayers around new life, new birth, and the world’s great reboot. 

 As followers of Jesus we’re called to forgive, it’s not an option, not a vague suggestion. And, indeed, in my life, I’ve forgiven numerous times, sometimes after dreadful attacks on me and my family. But is forgiveness part of an equation, a grace-filled symbiosis whereby wrong-doers have to apologize before they can be forgiven? 

I think not. Apologies, contrition, and even penance are vital for the sinner, and only by such reform and change can they genuinely change, improve, and be clean. But the victim can forgive without all this, and by doing so we bring ourselves closer to Christ. Without giving names, I’ve consciously forgiven journalists and activists who have told quite vile lies about me, and I know that they feel no sense of guilt for what they did. My Christian response, however, is that it’s what I, not they, do that matters. 

As for Roald Dahl, he never withdrew a word and even doubled down on it all in later years. But hand on heart I forgive him. Anyway, his cruelty led me to get to know some of the finest actors in modern theatre and movies! You see, God really does move in wonderfully mysterious ways. Merry Christmas!