T'S WORLD WAR II, AND A YOUNG SS soldier lies dying. As a final request, he asks if someone can bring him a Jew, any Jew, so that he may confess his wrongs and die in peace.
The Jew, selected randomly from a lineup of Jewish men on their way to a work site, is Simon Wiesenthal, then one of the thousands of Jewish prisoners facing death almost at any time. The soldier tells him a horrifying tale of setting fire to a house in which Jewish men, women, and children had been herded and of being instructed to shoot anybody who might try to escape.
Wiesenthal sits transfixed, listening as this soldier asks him for forgiveness so he might die in peace. Wiesenthal thinks about the fact that this soldier will at least have a sunflower growing on his well-defined grave while he, Wiesenthal, will be cast into a common grave somewhere like so much trash. Ultimately, too overwhelmed by this request, Wiesenthal stands up and walks out of the room without saying a word.
Eventually he visits the home of the soldier's mother to take her the dead man's belongings and there experiences, if not forgiveness, at least a modicum of empathy and compassion for this bereaved mother and even for her son.1
Can there be forgiveness in time of war? If so, how? And why? Aren't there offenses that simply shouldn't be forgiven? And what about justice?
The Meaning of Forgiveness The numerous books now published on forgiveness reveal that there are many dimensions to forgiveness. One might grapple with issues of guilt, anger and violence, resentments and grudges, confession, justice, mercy, grace, reconciliation, and so forth. Forgiveness is not so much for the husband who insists on leaving the toilet seat up as it is for the husband who has betrayed a sacred vow. The toilet seat problem can be addressed by patience; a betrayal warrants forgiveness.
Inspired largely by New Testament sources, Robert Enright and the researchers at the International Forgiveness Institute reflect on forgiveness, as follows:
Forgiveness is responding to an injury by turning the other cheek.
It is responding to an offense without harboring resentments or taking revenge.
It is an act of unmerited favor.
It can heal a relationship completely.
It has the potential of healing both the perpetrator and the victim.2
These same researchers suggest that forgiveness is not denying, passing over, excusing, or diminishing the importance of the offense. On the other hand, holding the offender hostage or seeking compensation or even justice as a condition for forgiveness is not forgiveness either. Forgiving an offense does not mean that we have no right to justice-it only means we cannot expect as much from the pursuit of justice as we commonly do, as we shall see later.
Why the Way of Forgiveness? The Christian religion, as it turns out, has the most elaborate and well-defined doctrine of forgiveness of any world religion. It's not that other religions don't incorporate forgiveness or the ideals of peacemaking in their belief system; it's just that Christianity places forgiveness at the very core of its system of beliefs by positing it as a fundamental trait of its God. Christians believe that it is through God's forgiveness that salvation comes to those who choose it. The whole history of the human race, from the Christian perspective, has to do with how a merciful, forgiving God paid the price of His children's sin and made a way back to wholeness, even when they had their backs turned to Him. If divine love is at the center of our salvation, it is forgiveness that is the channel through which that love reaches us. Without forgiveness, God's love is purely a theoretical notion.
Jesus' instruction to turn the other cheek and go the second mile for an enemy calls on the highest moral and ethical values known to humankind. The way of forgiveness mapped out in the Sermon on the Mount is a torturous yet fruitful journey into self-knowledge and knowledge of the other that inevitably leaves us better persons.
In their visit to the Wiesenthal Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles, students in my honors seminar entitled "Forgiveness and Culture" listened to Holocaust survivors talk about their experiences. Several of these survivors were able to say that they'd forgiven those who'd perpetrated unspeakable crimes against their people. Others still were not able to do so, but those who had forgiven had done so for different reasons.
One said that if he didn't forgive, he'd be stooping to the level of his enemies; another said that she wanted to get on with her life and could not do so until she'd let go of her hatred for the Germans. These incredible testimonies teach us that forgiveness is difficult but possible-and even necessary. How long can a person hold on to a past hurt and not be deeply damaged by it? The length of time between the offense and the decision to forgive will depend on the scope of the evil perpetrated. But in the end, the way of forgiveness is the only pathway to inner peace and freedom.
"Time heals all wounds" does apply to the emotional fallout of a large-scale conflict. But time alone cannot bring about healing. Michael Henderson tells how after World War II the previously warring nations of France and Germany came together at the Mountain House in Caux, Switzerland, where, through the intervention of trained third parties, high-ranking representatives from these countries were able to sit down and speak to one another and work out an acceptable postwar coexistence.3 Not much time intervened between the treaty signing and this effort to bring opposite sides of the conflict to the table of reconciliation. The difference was the intentional work of reconciliation. To forgive, you have to want it and work for it.
Forgivenesss and the Victim When we think of forgiveness, we typically think that we are giving something away that will help an unworthy receiver and, in so doing, add further hurt to the victim. This perception grows out of the fact that there is nothing "fair" about the way an offense operates on its victim. As children, when we were hurt, we expected that it would be the perpetrator of the offense who should pay the price. This childhood assumption tends to follow most of us into adulthood. As it turns out in reality, the price for evil is "paid" by the victim. The weight of the offense is carried largely by the one who received the humiliation, the betrayal, or the crime.
If the offense does not function "fairly," neither does forgiveness operate the way we thought it should when we were children. Back then we thought that forgiveness is for the person who says they're sorry. On the contrary, proffering forgiveness, even to an offender who hasn't apologized or given evidence of repentance, has the power to bring mental and even physical healing to the forgiver. In doing so, the victim does not give up the right to justice, but rather is now free to seek justice in a manner that is not vindictive and, therefore, harmful to mind and body. This understanding of forgiveness sheds light on that passage in 1 Corinthians 13: "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways" (verse 11).* Forgiveness is a call to put away infantile perceptions and "grow up" in Christ. Forgiveness belongs to mature Christianity.
Forgiveness and Justice But what about justice? Does forgiveness obviate the need for justice? No, indeed! One may seek to apply the full extent of the law to a perpetrator of evil-that is the function of international tribunals for war crimes, for example. But it is not always possible to achieve justice, particularly in the context of war. And even when justice is achieved (i.e., some form of equitable punishment is administered), the victims still are faced with the choice of continuing to harbor hatred or to forgive. Because forgiveness is letting go of the anger that the offense created, justice can't deal with that. In the end, forgiveness is an individual decision and choice that the individual victim must make.
Questions for Reflection or for Use in Your Small Group
1. What's the most difficult offense ever committed against you that called for forgiveness, and how did you handle it?
2. Have you ever hurt someone seriously and needed forgiveness? Whether or not that person was able to forgive you, how did that experience help you see the need to forgive others?
3. Does forgiveness mean letting people "get away with it"? And how would you describe the basis of divine forgiveness? Do you see a difference between human forgiveness and divine forgiveness?
In time of war (including terrorist war that involves a multitudinous and sometimes faceless enemy such as we are currently facing), empathy with the enemy, even while we do what is necessary to keep them from hurting us again, is an avenue through which anger can be processed and forgiveness given an opportunity to do its healing work. Truth-seeking will mean getting to know our enemy better and seeking ways of returning good for evil, wherever possible. Whether it be a warworthy conflict or a domestic spat, forgiveness is facilitated when each side is willing to know the truth about each other and themselves (John 8:32), a knowledge that will set all involved free.
Mary McAleese tells the story of Gordon Wilson, whose beautiful daughter, Marie, lay dying a painful death at the Enniskillen bombing in Northern Ireland while he spoke words of forgiveness to the perpetrators of so horrible an act. She goes on: "He [Wilson] was so practised in the discipline of love that when his beautiful daughter Marie died, hard and cruelly, . . . her hand in his as she slipped away, the words of love and of forgiveness sprang as naturally to his lips as a child's eyes are drawn to its mother." McAleese confesses that his words "shamed us, caught us off guard. They sounded so different from what we expected and what we were used to."4
But there were those who shouted at him, "How can you forgive the killers of your own daughter? How dare you forgive?" For McAleese, it was as though these Christians had never heard the command to love and forgive even our enemies; it was as though Christ had never said, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34, KJV). One of Wilson's churchgoing critics stated: "Surely the poor man must have been in shock."5 McAleese heard that comment and wondered at how the act of forgiveness was being treated as "a sign of mental weakness instead of spiritual strength."6
To forgive, showing "the Spirit of Christ" (Rom. 8:9) in time of war, is the optimal act of courage. Ellen White makes an astounding statement when she speaks of Jesus' brotherly love that stood against the nationalism espoused by the scribes and Pharisees: "He made no difference between neighbors and strangers, friends and enemies."7 That is the model. My enemy and my friend are my neighbors, and I am called on to apply the healing salve of forgiveness to both, in time of peace as well as in time of war.
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* Unless noted otherwise, Scripture quotations in this article are taken from the New Revised Standard Version.
1 Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness (New York: Schocken Books, 1969).
2 The International Forgiveness Institute,
The World of Forgiveness, vol. 1, no. 1, October/
November 1996.
3 Michael Henderson, The Forgiveness Factor (London: Grosvenor Books, 1996), pp. 18-36.
4 Mary McAleese, Love in Chaos: Spiritual Growth and the Search for Peace in Northern Ireland (New York: Continuum, 1997), p. 60.
5Ibid., p. 61.
6Ibid. 7 Ellen G. White, The Ministry of Healing (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1905), p. 25.
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Lourdes Morales-Gudmundsson, Ph.D., chairs the Department of Modern Languages at La Sierra University and regularly presents her seminar, "I Forgive You, But . . . ," at churches and retreats.
T'S WORLD WAR II, AND A YOUNG SS soldier lies dying. As a final request, he asks if someone can bring him a Jew, any Jew, so that he may confess his wrongs and die in peace.
Jesus' instruction to turn the other cheek and go the second mile for an enemy calls on the highest moral and ethical values known to humankind. The way of forgiveness mapped out in the Sermon on the Mount is a torturous yet fruitful journey into self-knowledge and knowledge of the other that inevitably leaves us better persons.
