© Copyright 1995-2023 Brahma Kumaris
World Spiritual University
Continuing with the theme of forgiveness.
In previous blog entries, what we have explored is how to begin to forgive someone when we have been the victim. I think to consider what forgiveness means when I have been the perpetrator is also an interesting perspective to explore.
I can think of many occasions in my life when I have desired forgiveness for my actions, some occasions being more serious than others. When I have sought (or wished for) forgiveness it has been as a result of one of three things:
- I did something for which I was unaware of the impact it would have on a relationship; it may be that i have done this same action before but the sensativity of the individual involved on this occasion is much greater than with others previously and hence i have had to give energy into reparation of the relationship.
- I hadn’t given the 'offending' action due consideration as to what impact it might have; this scenario is likely to be that I thought the actions I was involved in would be good for a laugh or would be advantageous to me in some way, in that moment. Later, in the cold light of day, I would come to regret them.
or, as in a small number of occasions (honest),
- I didn’t think the other person would find out.
So, when I was seeking forgiveness, what exactly was it that I was seeking? Very simply, I was wishing for the relationship between myself and the person affected by my ‘crime’ to return to that which it was before the act. It is the desire for the actions to disolve into thin air, leaving no trace, stain or shadow.
In Camilla Carr’s book, ‘The Sky is Always There,’ where she chronicles her experiences of being held hostage in Chechnya, this, too, is the case for one of her captors. Having repeatedly raped her, over a period of months, when on yet another occasion he was expecting to have sex with her, Camilla burst into tears, slumped down by the door and said, “No, no more! Enough!” Her captor was confused and asked in broken English, “Why not? You Western woman!”
His behaviour, his expectation for sex, had been fuelled by watching films made in the West, including pornographic films. Because of the explicit nature of these films, unlike the films available in his own country, his assumption was that all Western women were promiscuous. On being informed that this was not the case, the captor felt guilt and remorse and sought forgiveness. In other words, he wished for their relationship to be ‘as it was before, unaffected by the crime.’
I wonder what proportion of people have been convicted for actions or behaviours that were done out of an ignorance i.e. they were 'not thought through' or for which they didn't reflect on the sensativity of others who would be affected? They too may well seek forgiveness. Should that be witheld from them because of the nature of their actions were such that they were convicted for them?
Camilla said of her experience, “Rape is a terrible violation of a human being. I will never forgive the act, yet I can forgive the man who raped me; I can feel compassion for him because I understand the desperate place he was coming from."
How it is so important to always separate the person form tha action. Yes, condemn the action but do not condemn the person!
Recently, while in South Africa, I read the book by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, 'No Future Without Forgiveness.' This book is an account of the last days of aparthied and the workings of the Truth and Reconcilliation Council which the Archbishop chaired. What could be more powerful than the forgiveness associated with those times.
Here is an extract that explores and throws light on what it is to forgive, through the eyes of Desmond Tutu.
"When you embark on the business of asking for and granting forgiveness, you are taking a risk. In relations between individuals, if you ask another person for forgiveness you may be spurned; the one you have injured may refuse to forgive you. The risk is even greater if you are the injured party, wanting to offer forgiveness. The culprit may be arrogant, obdurate or blind; not ready or willing to apologise or to ask for forgiveness. He or she thus cannot appropriate the forgiveness that is offered. Such rejection can jeopardise the whole enterprise ….
…. In forgiving, people are not being asked to forget. On the contrary, it is important to remember, so that we should learn not to let such atrocities happen again. Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what happened seriously and not minimizing it; drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence. It involves trying to understand the perpetrators and so have empathy, to try to stand in their shoes and appreciate the sort of pressures and influences that might have conditioned them.
Forgiving means abandoning your right to pay back the perpetrator in his own coin, but it is a loss that liberates the victim. A recent issue of the journal Spirituality and Health had on its front cover a picture of three U.S. ex-servicemen standing in front of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. One asks, "Have you forgiven those who held you prisoner of war?" "I will never forgive them," replies the other. His mate says: "Then it seems they still have you in prison, don't they?” Vol. 2, No, 1 (New York, Trinity Church: Spirituality & Health Publishing).
Does the victim depend on the culprit's contrition and confession as the precondition for being able to forgive? There is no question that, of course, such a confession is a very great help to the one who wants to forgive, but it is not absolutely indispensable. .... If the victim could forgive only when the culprit confessed, then the victim would be locked into the culprit's whim, locked into victimhood, whatever her own attitude or intention. That would be palpably unjust.
I have used the following analogy to try to explain the need for a perpetrator to confess. Imagine you are sitting in a dank, stuffy, dark room. This is because the curtains are drawn and the windows have been shut. Outside the light is shining and a fresh breeze is blowing. If you want the light to stream into that room and the fresh air to flow in, you will have to open the window and draw the curtains apart; then that light which has always been available will come in and air will enter the room to freshen it up. So it is with forgiveness.
The victim may be ready to forgive and make the gift of her forgiveness available, but it is up to the wrongdoer to appropriate the gift - to open the window and draw the curtains aside. He does this by acknowledging the wrong he has done, so letting the light and fresh air of forgiveness enter his being.
In the act of forgiveness, we are declaring our faith in the future of a relationship and in the capacity of the wrongdoer to make a new beginning on a course that will be different from the one that caused us the wrong. We are saying, here is a chance to make a new beginning. It is an act of faith that the wrongdoer can change. According to Jesus, (Matthew 18:22) we should be ready to do this not just once, not just seven times, but seventy times seven, without limit – provided, it seems Jesus says, your brother or sister who has wronged you is ready to come and confess the wrong they have committed yet again.
That is difficult, but because we are not infallible, because we will hurt especially the ones we love by some wrong, we will always need a process of forgiveness and reconciliation to deal with those unfortunate yet all too human breaches in relationships. They are an inescapable characteristic of the human condition.
Once the wrongdoer has confessed and the victim has forgiven, it does not mean that is the end of the process. Most frequently, the wrong has affected the victim in tangible, material ways. Apartheid provided the whites with enormous benefits and privileges, leaving its victims deprived and exploited. If someone steals my pen and then asks me to forgive him, unless he returns my pen, the sincerity of his contrition and confession will be considered to be nil. Confession, forgiveness, and reparation, wherever feasible, form part of a continuum."
The sentence meted out on Edward Woollard, the 18 year old student who dropped a fire extinguisher form the roof of the Conservative Party HQ during the student fees protest, has sparked significant response in the media. “32 months imprisonment is unjust!” says one faction. “He deserves all he gets!” says another. My own thoughts have returned to this incident and the punishment numerous times.
Woollard was convicted of violent disorder, a crime that carries a maximum sentence of 5 years imprisonment. In terms of criminal justice, his punishment is, therefore, not excessive. So, why my concern?
The punishment would appear to fit the crime had it only been reported that, during the demonstration, which had turned increasingly violent, he ‘hurled an empty fire extinguisher from the roof of the seven-story building in the direction of the police where it landed within a few feet of the line of policemen protecting the building and the hundreds of protesters in the courtyard below.’
However, some media reports were less about sensationalism and more about stating facts. It is here that we come to know the extent of Woollards remorse.
"When I was told I had potentially endangered people, I felt sick." He said he had "lobbed it [the extinguisher] to go into a gap in the crowd below. I was absolutely not intending that anyone in anyway would be hurt. Very soon afterwards, I realised it was something I should not have done. I regret bitterly this act of madness." Immediately, he withdrew from the protest and was "shocked, dazed and horrified" at what he had done. He himself came forward to the police.
The judge referred to "the many fine references" which were submitted to testify to his previous good character: a young man with no previous convictions.
It is when we hear about the character that we can separate the person from the behaviour, the motivation behind the action from the action itself. It doesn’t mean that we condone the behaviour but that we are more likely to reach out to the person in order to contribute towards the process of ‘healing.’
Perhaps this is why I feel uncomfortable with the outcome of this case – when there is an understanding of the motive, the intention, there is an apparent discordance (in my mind) between the action and the punishment. When there exists already a high degree of contrition, when there is significant remorse, is a sentence of 32 months imprisonment the most suitable course of action? Will this best serve the needs of the young man and society?
What is the signal that is being given to young people by this sentence? Is it that violent behaviour will receive substantial punishment or is there another signal that is connected to the feeling that, actually, honesty doesn’t pay?
At a time when the new government is challenging the use of imprisonment and arguing that imprisonment should not continue to expand and in fact should contract, are the courts aligned to this way of thinking? Absolutely, there is a need to impose a period of time in which Woollard will reflect on his actions to the degree that, it is hoped, he will not travel that road again. However, what form should that take and for what period of time should that be for?
In responding to that question, we might check ourselves to know clearly our own motivation behind the punishment we would wish to see imposed..
(and its Antithesis: the Burning of the Koran)
For many of us, respect is one of those subjects that is relatively easy to talk about but somewhat less easy to put into practice. Sometimes the discrepancy between my premeditated intentions and my actual behaviour is quite small and on other occasions somewhat larger!
Of course, discrepancies are there for us all, however, for some, who have a somewhat higher profile, it becomes a focus of local, national and even international attention. Into this category must come the actions of the American pastor Terry Jones who threatened to burn copies of the Koran on September 11, 2010. How was such a disrespectful and inflammatory action going to promote peace and harmony in the United States, never mind the wider world?
Well, six months on, the answer is there for all to see. On 20 March, under the supervision of Pastor Jones, US Pastor Wayne Sapp set light to a copy of the Koran at a church in Florida. Angered by the actions, demonstrations in Northern Pakistan have left 20 people dead, including 7 UN workers, 87 people injured and cars set on fire. A large and angry crowd surged through the streets of Kandahar, chanting "They have insulted our Koran" and "Death to America".
Despite clear evidence that these actions led to the murders and widespread violence in the Middle East, pastor Jones remains unrepentant and, indeed, has vowed to step up his provocative campaign against Islam!!
Arrogance? Foolishness? Bloody-mindedness? Self-centred?
Putting aside any comment on the pastors actions, this does raise the question, how are we to protest when we strongly disagree with someone yet maintaining respect for them as an individual? It must, in part, encompass the language we use and the methods we employ.
A verbal or a personal attack on an individual with the aim to harm or hurt can never be acceptable: actions stemming from anger are rarely, if ever, going to calm a situation. However, a challenge to their ideas or beliefs, where I maintain respect for the other and use non-inflammatory language, is quite appropriate - after all, is this not the basis of dialogue and discussion.
{dialogue: to explore areas of disagreement frankly in order to resolve them {even if the resolution is to ‘agree to disagree’); discussion: consideration or examination by argument, comment, etc., especially to explore solutions.}
Of course, the degree to which I have control over my emotions during the exchange is the measure of my ability to maintain respect!
However, I believe there is also something much deeper than our language and our manner - I believe what lies at the heart of respect, in times of disagreement, is our intention.
A Prison Governor friend tells me that, with new staff, in a situation where a prisoner has broken the rules and the officer intends to put him/her on report, he will always impress upon them to first ask themselves, ‘what is my motivation for putting this person on report?’ Is it to bring benefit to the prisoner or might it be for ‘my own benefit?’ implying that it could be connected to ego’
If my words (or actions) are to diminish or bruise the other or to glorify or promote myself at the expense of another, then surely I need to refrain from comment. If my intent is truly for a nobler motive of offering a different way of looking at things, then fine. Within this, perhaps two key words are ‘offering’ and its oft-present side-kick, ‘expectation.’ My contribution to the discussion is just that – an offering, without the expectation that the other person should change and share my own beliefs.
This attitude would also suggest that I too would be open to hear and consider what the other person has to say to me. There is, after all, an expression that ‘God gave me two ears and only one mouth!’
Here lies the challenge: to respect the individual, to respect difference and diversity while holding opposing beliefs.
© Copyright 1995-2023 Brahma Kumaris
World Spiritual University