Thursday, April 21, 2016

'I can't forgive that. I won't.'

And Jesus answered them, “Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.” (Mark 11:22-25 ESV)

"I can't forgive that. I won't."
I'm a big fan of the Fox tv series Gotham (and I'm not exactly sure why). I'm really not into the current superhero craze. Maybe it's the back stories the show has been developing-- privileged Bruce Wayne's slow and deliberate transition into Batman, Jim Gordon's trials and tribulations as the detective-who-will-be-commissioner, and the circus side show cast of villains brought to life due to circumstances beyond their control... And it's all powered by one word: vengeance. There are occasional glimmers of grace and mercy, but forgiveness has yet to make a cameo. I mean forgiveness in the true sense, the biblical concept, that most Christian of virtues.

Last Monday night's episode came dangerously close to a forgiving moment in a soap-opery moment when Jim Gordon's sociopathic ex-wife (who had been in a coma for a few episodes), trying to appear contrite for her violent past, failed in her attempt to convince him that she is changed for the better. After summarily dismissing her he tacked on these words: "You tried to kill Lee [his fiancée]. I can't forgive that. I won't."

While Gotham is a metaphorical backdrop of life in New York City back when the world was in black and white, it does reflect the human condition in its theatrical portrayal of self-absorbed characters waist-deep in conflict resolution (man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. society, and man vs. self). This show no doubt intentionally (and often superficially) showcases character traits of chivalry, bravado, courage, revenge, and looking out for Number One-- all badges of honor in a world that is pretty much devoid of faith and forgiveness and in which morality is defined by popular consensus (sound familiar?). But week after week I watch this show and root for the underdog, hoping that justice will prevail, and that the meek will somehow inherit the Earth (or at least Gotham).

So what, then, is the appeal? Why am I attracted to a tv show that portrays the realistic side of Man in such an unrealistic context?  Why not push a plot line with a forgiving and faithful Mother Teresa-like superhero whose superpowers are chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility? Because the ratings would kill it before it ever got going...

But back to forgiveness. A show like Gotham actually teaches the antithesis of it-- that in the fairy-tale world of avenging superheroes, as in this real world of paybacks, forgiveness is not so much a virtue as it is a weakness, misunderstood as a hallmark of human frailty when the opposite is actually true. And as faith and forgiveness walk hand-in-hand, forgiveness is also misunderstood as a supernatural virtue to be meted out properly by a deity (rather than proffered conditionally by a human). Given the choice, we mortals choose NOT to forgive for all of the reasons Gotham can give because, in my humble opinion, few understand the concept. Yes, among them Christians.

I found this most excellent explanation of forgiveness on the Catholic Education Resource Center website: The exalted nature of forgiveness is attested to by the fact that it presupposes a number of other virtues. Consider three virtues in particular: justice, clemency, and mercy...

Justice has the nature of an equation: Borrowing 10 dollars requires returning 10 dollars. When justice is violated, punishment or restitution of some kind is required. Herein is the timeless significance of bringing the scales of justice back into balance. Injustice demands a counterbalancing repayment. Clemency goes beyond justice, to some extent ignoring the need for precise balancing, and reduces the payment. For example, clemency may be used to reduce a 60-day sentence to 15 days. Mercy goes beyond both justice and clemency to wipe away the need for punishment. It does not turn a blind eye to the offense committed, but it does pardon the offender.

Forgiveness goes beyond those three virtues, but without negating any of them. Justice, clemency, and mercy provide the very foundation that allows forgiveness to be a possibility. Forgiveness goes beyond mercy and treats the offense as if it never happened. It wipes the slate clean, as it were, and gives the transgressor a fresh start.

On the part of the person forgiven, the virtues of humility, sincerity, and hope are presupposed. In this way, forgiveness represents a truly exalted virtue because of the foundational virtues it presupposes in both the forgiver and the one forgiven. 

The last part is key: "...forgiveness represents a truly exalted virtue because of the foundational virtues it presupposes in both the forgiver and the one forgiven."

From a psychological standpoint, forgiveness gets confused with reconciliation. An excerpt from a 2008 study published in the Journal of Traumatic Stress ("PTSD symptoms, forgiveness, and revenge among Israeli Palestinian and Jewish Adolescents") illustrates this:

I’ve seen individuals, for example, who have lost a family member because of a crime. The survivors’ anger and desire for revenge poison their entire beings. They so focus on what they’ve lost, and what they wanted the dead person to be, and do, for them, that they completely miss the opportunity they’ve been given to learn about real love.

Instead, they seem to believe that hatred, even to the point of capital punishment, will satisfy their thirst for vengeance and will somehow bring them healing.

So, with hardened hearts and stiff lips, they say, “I’ll never forgive.”

And the sad thing is that in wishing to send someone to hell they end up sending themselves there as well.

What if our God said those same words to us that Jim Gordon said to his ex in Monday's episode?

"I can't forgive that. I won't."

Thankfully ours is a God of forgiveness in Christ Jesus. Blog author Chad Bird very eloquently writes about the Gospel message of forgiveness in a post a couple of days ago (definitely worth reading!). No other word, act, or virtue, defines a Christian's faith (and his/her understanding of it) so precisely...

When we are conceived, the Gospel is not born within us. There is no Good News written on our hearts. It is a message that comes from outside us. Not in a thunderous boom, not in a trumpet blast, but in the still, small, weak voice of a dying God upon the cross, who says, “Father, forgive them.”

Forgive them for shattering every commandment that I have ever uttered.
Forgive them for treating each other with such meanness and spite.
Forgive them for making excuses for their loveless words and actions.
Forgive them for fashioning idols of every good gift we have given them.
Forgive them even for hammering these spikes and thorns into my body.
Father, forgive them for doubting, not believing, even denying our existence.

Such is the pivot point in the plot line of a story that is even more unbelievable than the comic-book world of Gotham, but the central Character promotes a message of faith and forgiveness, two superpowers with which every Christian can vanquish any villain or evil-doer! (No cape, cowl, or tights required... )

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