What if nothing is unforgivable?
I recently heard someone describe what they felt to be a particularly egregious transgression as “unforgivable.” I didn’t catch the specifics of just what the person felt was unforgivable, and for just a second, I was curious about what it possibly could have been.
I didn’t have much time to wonder, because I heard a voice I’ve come to trust without question give a completely different answer from what I expected: “Nothing is unforgivable.” Though it sounded like a radical answer, the truth of it has become clear to me.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t be held accountable for their actions. Of course they should. But does it make sense to believe that whatever they’ve done is so horrible they aren’t worthy of a way back or a new start? All of us are worthy of that, no matter who we are, or what we’ve done.
What would make us think that someone can be deemed worthy of forgiveness only if what we feel they did wasn’t too bad? That’s confusing forgiveness with approval, and one has nothing to do with the other.
Forgiveness doesn’t know any conditions. When it comes down to it, forgiving someone has very little to do with the specifics of the transgression. It simply indicates a willingness to start over.
Forgiveness is not a reward to the transgressor. It doesn’t mean I find their actions acceptable. It just means I don’t want to carry a load of resentment and bad feeling toward that person. It means I don’t want to hold back or hold in the love I would otherwise naturally experience toward that person.
When I withhold forgiveness, I’ve come to see how much damage it does to me. Resentment and peace can’t exist in the same mind at the same time, so it’s impossible for me to experience a peaceful mind when I’m carrying around a list of resentments and injustices.
When I forgive someone, I’m not letting them off the hook; I’m simply making a choice that I’d rather have a peaceful mind than an agitated, resentful mind. Forgiveness is a way back to a peaceful mind, and everybody deserves a way back to a peaceful mind.
When I don’t forgive someone, I realize that what I’m doing is holding a fixed picture of my reaction to a particular event and time, and confusing that old, static picture with a living human being. I’m denying their ability to change and grow. This is true on both sides: I’m also holding an outdated picture of myself, denying my own ability to change and grow.
When I withhold forgiveness, I’m forgetting who forgiveness is for, and who benefits most from it. The person who’s being forgiven may or may not get some relief from having been forgiven. It’s the “forgiver” who gets the most from it, because real forgiveness is a way, maybe the only way, of “wiping the slate clean” and moving on with life.
And that “clean slate” is also a test of whether I’ve really forgiven. If the slate doesn’t feel clean, I haven’t really forgiven, I’ve only given forgiveness lip service. And I’m still carrying a load I don’t want to be carrying.
Nothing is unforgivable if you’re willing to look deeply enough into the heart of the transgressor. This is where mercy is born. And where there’s mercy, there can be peace.
