The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies, When love is done.
-Francis William Bourdillon
To love means to forgive, especially to forgive what seems unforgivable. Christ has always loved the sinner as being the nearest possible to the perfection of humanity. His primary desire was not to reform people any more than his desire was to relieve suffering. Similarly, forgiveness is praised by philosophers and religious leaders alike as heroic existence. "Life is an adventure in forgiveness," declares Norman Cousins. "Have no malice in your heart. Have no desire for revenge," we read in the Hindu sacred poem the Bhagavad Gita. "Give the person a full chance to explain. Do not return hate." Jesus, a very brave man, prays while hanging on the cross of death, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the African American civil rights leader adds, "Forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a permanent attitude." Finally, the writer David Ausburger concludes: "since nothing we intend is ever faultless, and nothing we attempt ever without error, and nothing we achieve without some measure of finitude and fallibility we call humanness, we are saved by forgiveness."
If your partner acknowledges his or her mistake, expresses sincere remorse and repents, then you must not only forgive him or her but also forget the whole event. After such contrition, the slate must be wiped clean and the relationship must continue as if the wrongdoing never occurred.
In his book Further Along the Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck tells a poignant tale about a little girl who said she talked to God.
The villagers who heard of her experience began to get excited about it, and word reached the bishop's palace. The bishop, concerned of unauthorized saints walking around, appointed a monsignor to investigate the child's story. So she was brought to the bishop's palace for a series of interviews. By the end of the third interview, the monsignor, in frustration, cried out, "I just don't know, I don't know what to make of this. I don't know whether you're for real or not. But there is one acid test. The next time you talk to God, I want you to ask Him what I confessed to at my last confession. Would you do that?" In reply, the little girl said she would do so. When she came back for her interview the following week, the monsignor eagerly asked, "So, my dear, did you talk to God again this past week?" to which she replied, "Yes, Father, I did." He went on, "And when you talked to God this past week, did you remember to ask Him what I confessed to at my last confession?" Again she answered, "Yes, Father, I did." Finally, he asked, "Well? When you asked God what I confessed to at my last confession, what did God say?" Then the little girl answered, "God said, I've forgotten."
Whether this little girl was the one who had forgotten, and whether she had indeed talked to God, she was expressing the ultimate forgiveness.
Humanness is always imperfect, relative, and tainted by sin and folly. This view might help us to tolerate our own shortcomings and many uncertainties, including our moral failings. Forgiving would free us from the corrosive effects of anger and hate. It would save relationships among spouses, parents and children, and friends. I know spouses who never forgive an indiscretion and express their anger at every reminder of it. They will yell at the top of their voices, as if the matter had just occurred. Such chronic anger serves only to kill the love that was supposed to be its source. It is reminiscent of Robert Fulghum's report of a unique practice in the Solomon Islands of the South Pacific. Applying a unique type of logging, some native woodsmen cut down trees by yelling at them. They continue this practice for thirty days, until each tree finally dies, believing that their screaming killed the spirit of the tree. The tree may or may not literally fall over. The person who is subjected to anger may or may not die. We know for certain, however, that anger slowly kills love.
Ironically, the angry one (justified or not) suffers the most. Not only will he or she lose the love that is so vehemently being protected but the anger will weaken the immunological system. Being angry, in fact, has been likened by Frederick Buechner to gnawing on a bone, your own. The moral of the story is that people who say, "I forgive, but I will never forget," have not actually forgiven. Forgetting is the only real and possible forgiving, and that is a more saintly act, and a selfish one at that.
Adapted from The Art of Serenity
