I had an epiphany today about forgiveness. I realize I never really knew what it meant. Perhaps I should have looked it up on dictionary.com:
– stop feeling angry or resentful toward someone for (an offense, flaw, or mistake)
dictionary.com
While I know this is part of the process, I thought there was another thought preceding it: “Its OK that you did what you did….” This is the part of forgiveness with which I have a huge problem. But I see that there is no mention of that problem phrase in the dictionary.com definition.
I also found this (below).
Forgiveness actually embodies three different things, each of which applies to different situations and provides different results. The three types of forgiveness are: exoneration, forbearance and release.
ctfassets.net
Exoneration? (“officially absolving someone from blame”. Oh no no no…) Forebearance? (“patient self-control; restraint and tolerance”. Doesn’t sound like forgiveness to me!) Release? Hmmm…. that has potential.
On thriveworks.com, I found “7 Steps to True Forgiveness” which I won’t quote here because Step #5 is “Repair” where you’re supposed to repair the relationship you had with the person who needs forgiving. This is the step I have a problem with and why I could NEVER understand forgiving someone who murdered, raped and/or brutalized you or someone you love, or anyone for that matter. The mere act of deliberate manipulation and mean-spiritedness, invokes in me an unforgivable feeling. So my unforgivable-self has a very wide spectrum. While I can go on with my day to day, month to month, living and not think about it, when I do recall certain negative event(s), I feel the anger in my stomach but I can shake it off, reasoning with myself that in the long run, my quality of life was not effected.
An example would be something I said (it usually is!) – a truth – that should have been my inside voice. While drinking at an evening function with a group of acquaintances, an idea came up for us to plan a group trip in a year to go to a warm destination. One woman said she couldn’t possibly plan that, as her aunt was 98 and she needed to be available for her. My inside voice came out and said, “Oh my god! She’ll be dead by then.” She never forgave me, according to her husband. Do I acknowledge that what I said was insensitive? Yes. Do I regret saying it? ….hmmmm, it was quite funny at the time and, in my mind, she was over-sensitive to the issue considering the amount of alcohol we had just consumed. Her aunt did die. This woman was not part of my daily life before the unfortunate comment, so not having her in my life afterwards meant nothing to me. I’m sure she feels the same.
Another example was when I suggested to my uncle, who had two jobs after retirement while is daughter (my cousin who I talked to about once every 10 years or so) was on welfare, that perhaps he could give one of his jobs to his daughter to get her off welfare. I had not been drinking alcohol – it was an honest truth and observation that I thought was a brilliant solution. He told her what I said and she was angry. My Mom told me that my cousin would likely never speak to me again. And I said, “My life will never be the same. I’ll certainly miss those conversations!”
My last example is when I put together a book on the genealogy of my mother’s ancestors and through an honest clerical error, missed adding the family of an adopted daughter into the index of the book. Her name was under her maiden name, but her married name (husband and children) were not. This was unforgivable to her even though her children were absolutely not descendants of my ancestors. When I see her at family functions and reunions, her face is filled with hate and rage — 25 years later. And she has passed this hate and rage on to her sisters, her mother (now passed) and her family. I apologized to her many times in writing.
This is a double edged “forgive” situation. She turned an innocent clerical error into a generational family-splitting calamity. I’ll never forget what she did, but I forgive her. In my mind, she’s not part of my “life” or family anymore. I don’t care about her – she’s nothing to me now. I feel no anger or resentment and I actually feel sorry for her if I think about her at all. To me, this is an adopted monkey on her back, not on mine. So, is that true forgiveness?
I know there are people who, for whatever reason, be it a mental illness or severity, who cannot “shake it off”. My cousin cannot shake it off. I also acknowledge that there are events that I would find “unforgivable”. If anyone committed a crime against my life-partner, our daughter, my sisters or my brother – I would likely be filled with hate and rage. I would hope that I would not let it consume me, but there’s no guarantee.
Lorne (my life-partner) recently discovered a cousin living in Sydney, Australia. Jack Meister was born in 1928 and is a holocaust survivor. He’s won awards for his volunteerism in Sydney, for sharing his life story. His parents and his brother, and all relatives known to him died in the camps. He lost everything when, at 11 years old, he was rounded up and taken to a ghetto, then a few years later taken to Auschwitz. He says he forgives, but he’ll never forget. The man hasn’t one hate or rage bone in his body. He exudes joy and gratefulness. How is this possible?
“…they mean they can forgive the current generation for whom blame can’t be put as it wasn’t them and forgive those poor souls who had to do what they were told otherwise they (suffered) the same fate. [were shot]
But not to forget the horrors of the war and what man did to man and are still doing. Remember that countries fall into their own fate by obeying dictators and not standing up for their own countrymen.
And yes he is not consumed by hatred…
Leanna Delevski, Jack’s daughter
Jack also says that his survival is because “someone” from above is looking out over him. So where was that “someone” when his parents and brother died? Where was that “someone” when my beautiful niece died of cancer when she was 30? Is that “someone” there right now watching over my brother on life-support in Saskatoon? This sounds like a topic for another blog.
So going back to the first definition of forgiveness… if I were a Holocaust survivor, meeting one of the tormentors from Auschwitz who had murdered my family, I would shoot him or her dead without anger or malice or resentment, saying, “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget you.” I would then go home and sleep peacefully – and feel released.
