The Discipline of Forgiveness

We’ve all been hurt by people, sometimes in a relatively small, passing way but occasionally not, and that can lead to deeply significant suffering and even trauma. A common part of the human condition, alas. Not very long ago, an influential man who was widely considered to be deeply ethical and spiritual was revealed to have behaved extremely badly. His fall was dramatic, nasty, and I’m sure agonizing.   

My initial reaction was a morbid satisfaction and glee, a form of schadenfreude, because I’d seen the other side of him and been personally stung by the man. I tried to convince myself that in this case my feelings were justified and that my response was righteous and fair. But that sort of twisted logic just won’t do, especially if we follow Christ. Apart from anything else, my attitude didn’t change him, but it did change me. It diminished me, narrowed me, made me seem callous. So, I reached out to him as an old acquaintance, asking if there was anything I could do. It was through a third party, so I’m not sure he ever knew about it. I certainly didn’t receive a reply. 

Forgiving someone who is broken and can no longer do you any harm is different from forgiving someone who is still active and successful, but I can think of several people who come into that category. I’ve tried with all of them to build bridges but to no avail. So, when St. Paul wrote, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads,” he should have added that it doesn’t work with everybody! Your decency might expose their wrongdoing and lead to enemies becoming friends, but not always. I’ve an idea they despise you all the more. 

Because forgiveness, and accepting forgiveness, requires self-reflection, and we’re living in an era where self-reflection is regarded as weakness. It’s so much easier to continue to lash out and appear tough, and if we’re being honest, it does provide a temporary satisfaction. The thing is, the hit doesn’t last very long. 

Consider the mass attacks initiated by tabloid-type media, which extend far beyond actual tabloids, that are so prevalent in our culture and discourse. Name, shame, and condemn, whether the target is a mass murderer or merely someone who has broken a contrived taboo. It’s a problem with all ideological perspectives, all political sides. The left finds someone who is insufficiently critical of Israel or ambivalent about trans issues; the right discovers an activist who made a violently anti-conservative remark five years ago or a politician who accidentally shared a platform with a criminal. I boycott therefore I am.   

What lies beneath all this performative nonsense is the implicit belief that we’re not like them, we’re better, we’re the good guys. There are, of course, genuinely bad people out there, but much of the time all this says more about the screamer than the screamed at. It’s all been further empowered by a social media that can be innocuous and fun, even helpful, but is now so dominated by AI and organized malice that it distorts the public conversation. It doesn’t reflect life but perverts it, and it’s getting worse rather than better. 

Which brings me back to forgiveness and refusing to be pleased at someone’s demise. It’s harder to do than you might think, but I strongly urge people in public life – politicians, performers, priests, pundits – to consider enlightened self-interest if nothing else, because the dragon does have this habit of eating its own. The person I mentioned at the start of this column was once revered and was a hero and darling to some important people. I wonder if he now reflects on it all, questions his behaviour, regrets his actions, and most of all tries to repair the damage. Good God, I hope so.