Forgiveness

“And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us.” (Matthew 6:12)

To forgive someone who has wronged us runs directly counter to our egoistic impulses and tears at the very fabric of who we think we are. In true forgiving, even if reluctantly, we drop a barrier separating us from the other. Grudges arise out of and feed our self-centeredness, while dehumanizing the vilified other. The net result of keeping accounts against people is to make ourselves less than we might be. But grudges, outrage, and their lightweight cousin, blame, emanate from the core of our illusory egoism, proving tenacious and formidable obstacles to inner freedom.

We can begin the work of forgiveness by examining our anger and disgust with ourselves for our own defects and past mistakes. Slowly we may see that this ingrown attitude of self-disappointment saps our energy through emotional self-thrashing. All this comes from the egoistic proposition that we are or could be or should be perfect. To forgive ourselves means to accept our failings. This act of self-generosity brings greater wholeness and integrity to our inner life.

But some of our misdeeds may have harmed other people. For these, we cannot really forgive ourselves until we have made whatever efforts are feasible to make amends, to repay, to ask for forgiveness. When no such efforts are feasible, or if they fail, closing these accounts may involve repentance and asking God to forgive us. If our contrition is sincere, eventually release will come.

Another stage involves forgiving those who have wronged us. The fleeting misdeeds of impersonal, rude, uncivil, negligent, or incompetent behavior form the first field for the practice of forgiving others. Personally intended offenses, however, create more powerful affronts to our self-centeredness. Our reactions of resentment and animosity can even subordinate our entire inner life for far too long.

Perhaps most difficult to forgive are transgressions against those whom we love. We cannot forgive on behalf of our loved one. Furthermore, such anger may not be egoistic, but well-justified in its morality.

Nevertheless, all blame, rancor and animosity against the wrongdoers serve primarily to keep us inwardly enslaved to bitterness. So despite the seemingly insurmountable difficulty, we seek to let go our grievance, to forgive, to regain our respect for the humanity of the other. At first perhaps we can only forgive partially, but as we follow the painful practice of letting go our grievances, we may eventually forgive more completely and find our heart’s release.

The practice of forgiveness, though, does not imply passivity or non-violence in the face of evil. The greatest kindness to a murderer is to stop him from murdering again, but we need not hate him in the process. Potential future victims also deserve active protection. The saddest of commentaries on our current human condition is that even war is sometimes just and necessary to combat evil. For this reason we practice, because the spiritual pursuit transforms energies and gradually changes the atmosphere on our planet, working against the power of greed and hatred.

Forgiveness requires seeing: seeing our hatred for ourselves and for those who have wronged us or our loved ones. This seeing shows how hatred poisons our inner world and opens our heart to the wish to be free from hatred. Together, the seeing and the wish enable us to let go of the accounts, to let the other person back into our heart.

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