The moral unforgiver makes a distinction between the extreme circumstances where a relationship must be severed and other, more commonplace, injuries. "It's not so much what my brother did as a child, but what he continues to be as a man that I find unacceptable," Sandy explained. "He never changed, never grew, and just found new ways to feel entitled. It would only be right to forgive what he did as a child--it would be legitimate and healthy for everybody. But it would be wrong not to hold him responsible for being an undeveloped person now; I would be colluding in creating a false reality, which was what allowed me to be violated in the first place."
Contrary to the conventional wisdom, refusing to forgive or have further contact with an unrepentant, abusive relative is therapeutic. "My lack of forgiveness has not impeded my development or my relationships at all; in fact, it's cured me," she said. "Before I took a stand I was always depressed and acceding to others' needs, always confused about my rights and about what was real." It is commonly believed that forgiving promotes mental health and alleviates depression. But doing the opposite can express a person's very right to live.
Responsible unforgivers are never antiforgiveness; Sandy regularly forgives outside her family, even when the offender fails to apologize. "In a good relationship--not a perfect relationship--it's different; how bad are the screwups? If the person is still loving enough it comes naturally." By recognizing the distinction between actions worthy and unworthy of tolerance, and upholding her own moral point of view, a child triumphs over the masochistic role her family assigned her. Her insistence on truth and justice, which lead her to refuse to forgive, is the foundation of her sense of self. Says Sandy of her decision: "I've never had a moment's regret."
Proponents of universal forgiveness refuse to recognize that moral unforgivers exist. They find it inconceivable that unforgiving victims of injustice could be outraged but not obsessed by their injuries, that they could even sympathize or retain conditional connections with those they refuse to pardon.
What about Sandy's relationship to her parents, who at very least share responsibility for her childhood torment? She has not entirely severed her tie to them, though she holds them culpable. "I need some sense of family, as long as they accept my terms," she explains. "And with this huge exception, they have made genuine efforts in my behalf in recent years." Her attitude toward her parents is one of conditional unforgiveness.
So too with Paul Thompson. Paul managed to maintain an uneasy truce with his born-again Christian parents until they announced at a recent press conference, "Our son's homosexuality is worse than a death in the family."
The Thompsons are founding members of Return, Incorporated, an international evangelical organization dedicated to converting gay people to heterosexuality. They insist that they "hate the sin and love the sinner," and claim that they are proud of Paul, even though he is gay, and welcome him as a member of the family.
Yet they want him to gainsay his identity and accept their condemnation. Fear of the destructive power of his own rage, coupled with an unconscious belief that they might be right, prevented Paul from having a confrontation with his parents. His implicit acceptance of their terms perpetuated mutual false forgiveness.
"But now," he told me, "they've raised the stakes too high. They actually said that my being gay was a fate worse than death--in essence, that they would rather I had died. When my boyfriend and I broke up and I was devastated, my mother said it was 'an answered prayer.' They deny that what they're doing is personal and that it's damaging to me; this is hatred masked as love. I won't go any further; it's more a process of mourning than of forgiving them."
Paul's parents entrenched, sanctimonious refusal to admit their hostility is a nonnegotiable obstacle to full reconciliation. For them to disapprove of his sexual orientation is one thing; to wage a conversion campaign while insisting that they are acting out of compassion alone is another.
Without asking his son's permission, Mr. Thompson wrote and self-published Psalms for Sorrowing Parents, a book that included intimate letters his son had written to him. "I sobbed when he gave me a copy," Paul said. He refused his father's subsequent request to be pardoned for invading his privacy, the only offense Mr. Thompson would ever admit. "I won't do it because it's just a ritual for him, not blood and guts. Real forgiveness has to be based on working to change; he wants me to forgive him for what he's going to keep doing."
In the complex relations between parents and child, affection and hostility and pride and disappointment always coexist. To label an ongoing transgression unforgivable does not necessarily obliterate all positive ties. "Despite their fanaticism, fundamentally they love me very deeply," Paul acknowledged--and he knows he loves them, too.
Therefore, although he will not underwrite his parents' behavior by forgiving it, neither will he abandon them in retaliation; mature separation is not amputation. He has decided to maintain occasional contact with them, provided Return, Incorporated, is not mentioned. "Complete detachment isn't any more healthy than fusion--but I won't be careful or quiet any longer."
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