The mother of one of the 50 people killed by Islamist fanatics in the London suicide bombings has had to resign as a vicar because she cannot forgive the assassin responsible for her daughter’s death. Her feelings of rage are not compatible with her position as an Anglican vicar, she says. I’m not sure how I would feel in her shoes — can anybody say for sure they would be able to forgive their daughter’s killers? I’d like to think I would act with Christ-like forgiveness, but I simply don’t know. What do you all think?
The Millennial Star
Can one forgive and yet simultaneously feel anger? I don’t see why not.
“can anybody say for sure they would be able to forgive their daughter’s killers?”
I can. I say that not to be glib, but I believe that the concept of the greater sin being more difficult to forgive is actually an illusion that we buy in to. If our spirits are contrite and our hearts are broken, forgiving a big thing is no different than forgiving a little thing.
“Can one forgive and yet simultaneously feel anger? I don’t see why not.”
This is a great question Clark. But I disagree, I do see why not. But I’m not prepared to conclusively argue it, so I’m not going to try to at the moment. In part because I think the issue is much more complex and much more difficult than it sounds. The short answer is this though: You cannot simultaneously feel both because the anger is a literal manifestation of the lack of forgiveness. I am impressed that this vicor was honest enough to recognize that in herself.
The hardest part of answering that kind of question, though, is the slipperyness of the definition of “anger”. It means a lot of different things in and has a lot of different shades and tones. Essentially, I think anger is sin. But I will admit that there are emotions out there that are very similar to anger that do not constitute sin. So I think that, before any constructive discussion can be had on the topic, anger has to be carefully dissected. And that’s hard to do.
Do we suppose that Christ was simultaneously angry with, yet forgave, the money changers?
Perfection is elusive. But that does not mean we shouldn’t keep trying.
To second Ed but expand it somewhat, wouldn’t your position Eric entail that God can’t be angry?
I don’t believe that either God or Jesus ever were angry in the traditional sense of the word. I do think there’s a difference between what I would call anger and perhaps “righteous fervorâ€. Because these are emotions, it is extremely difficult to describe, but here’s a quick shot.
Anger is born out of resentment, self-pity, hurt, pride, humiliation, etc. It is difficult to control and often results in hurt on the part of the one feeling it. Anything which results in a “bad mood†is anger and not righteous fervor.
Righteous fervor is born out of love, it feels no ill-will towards its subjects. The person feeling it never has a sense of being overcome by it. One can pray and feel the spirit in the midst of it. One is humble and easily-approachable in the midst of it. It never results in behavior that needs to be apologized for later. It is perhaps best described as an intensified godly sorrow.
But wouldn’t you agree Eric, that our word “anger” covers both? (I’d quibble with the “feels no ill-will” as well – it’s hard to picture Jesus with a bull whip feeling no ill-will, not to mention the God who sent the plagues upon Egypt) I’d agree upon your focus on self-control though. Certainly there is a difference between being overcome by anger and being angry yet under control.
I think I can be “forgiving” but also frustrated/worried/scared, and therfore angry — my parents seem to do it all the time with all of my siblings (and me.)
I don’t think it’s an illusion that it is harder to forgive graver sins than it is minor ones. If it were so, President Hinckley would give conference talks praising the extraordinary spirit of wives who forgive husbands who leave the toilet seat up. As it is, he reserves those talks for a woman who forgave the near-murderer who caved her head in. There’s a difference.
It seems some of the comments are missing the point of the story attached. Here are some comments from the mother:
The mother is not only saying she cannot forgive but that she doesn’t want to. It appears to me that she is hanging on to rage and desire for vengeance. That is the reason she resigned, because these feelings are not compatible with Christ’s teachings.
We know that we must forgive all men all of their trespasses. We must get rid of feelings of rage and vengeance and leave the judgement up to God. This does not mean we always do it, but we must try to do it.
I have people in my life who have severely hurt me, committed grave sins against me and done permanent damage. But I always say loudly and repeatedly that I forgive them. I know in my heart that forgiveness is difficult and that part of my consciousness does not really forgive them. But I say I forgive them as part of the process of hopefully overcoming my feelings of anger and hurt. If I say it enough times and try to feel it, perhaps someday I will eventually arrive at feelings of true Christ-like forgiveness and love.
That is the opposite of what this woman is saying. She doesn’t want to forgive them, she wants to concentrate on her rage.
Now, having said all that, I have never had a daughter murdered. I don’t know if I could even say I forgive somebody for that. That is the reason for this post.
Clark, I agree that the word “anger†could be used for what I have called righteous furor, but I don’t think that’s what people generally understand or intend for it.
gst, It’s all mental. People think it’s harder and thus it actually becomes harder simply because they believed it to be so. Thus, it’s fair to say that for the vast majority of people, it is indeed actually harder. I’m just saying that it’s not objectively so. It doesn’t have to be that way.
The lines from the story quoted by Geoff are the best argument in support of the Lord’s command that we are to forgive all (not that any argument is needed–the Lord’s commands don’t need a reason).
The inability to forgive isn’t hurting Mohammed Sidique Khan–but it is hurting Rev Nicholson. In fact, it’s now made it impossible for her to continue in her ministry.
So, as difficult as it may be to forgive those who commit heinous acts against our loved ones, we must forgive them. Otherwise, we suffer more.
I think we sometimes see forgiveness, especially forgiveness for as grave a wound as this, far too narrowly. Like serious repentance, forgiveness for the murder of a child has got to be a very long, arduous road. In my experience (which doesn’t include anything nearly as heinous as this), forgiveness is often a lengthy, cyclical process of struggling daily, even hourly, with resentment and anger. Sometimes I think I’ve conquered those feelings, only to have them recur later and find that I have to do battle with them again. I remember giving a talk on forgiveness a few years ago and being approached by a woman afterward who told me about a friend she wished could “just forgive” her abusive husband. In such cases, there’s nothing “just” (that is, mere or simple) about forgiving. Yes, forgiveness is definitely and unequivocally a commandment. But if we’re going to call others to forgive (or to keep any other commandment, for that matter), we need to be willing to bear their burdens with them, to open ourselves to the pain and grief they have to bear, and to walk that long road with them. Otherwise our calls for forgiveness become cheap, as forgiveness itself can become when it’s urged on others prematurely without granting them any space for grief.
Grief and forgiveness take time. It would almost certainly be unrealistic for this woman to be able to forgive this man so short a time after he murdered her daughter.
Love the sinner, hate the sin.
I can understand why forgiveness is difficult, but it is imperative for Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness to work. One of the most important things we learn on this earth is to forgive. I’ve also noticed that how someone is raised directly affects their ability to forgive.
I am not always sure what forgiveness means exactly. I think (in response to what Clark Goble asks in comment #1) that it does not make sense that one has forgiven another person and still feels anger in his or her heart. On the other hand, I do not think a person has to replace that feeling of anger, rage or hatred with affection or love in order to achieve forgiveness. But I am still figuring out what I think forgiveness actually means and does not mean.
By the way, I am having a problem on this blog that each time I try to type an apostrophe or a backslash, I get a search (find: ____) window at the bottom of the page. I am wondering what I have to do to stop this from happening. I must have activated a macro of some sort — but I do not have this problem on other blogs.
Beats me whether I coulld or not.
But I hope I would, and I still expect others to do the same.
Geoff B: (#10) “But I always say loudly and repeatedly that I forgive them.”
I’ve always had a problem with repeating things I don’t believe in the hope that the mere utterance or repetition of utterance _makes_ them come true. I never could get out a forced or coerced “I’m sorry.”
The mantra that I repeat whenever a memory of an offense against me comes to the forefront of my mind is “Jesus paid for it.” That is a past event that I believe in. Repeating that in my mind seems to dispell the ghosts of past trauma (flashbacks), and their accompanying stress.
My mother’s mantra of “It’s okay” was also a “bad thing” in my opinion. Repeating “it’s okay” is saying that the offense wasn’t an offense, or that it didn’t happen. Repeating “it’s okay” negates the need for forgiveness, and doesn’t heal the wound.
Calling on the power of the atonement allows me to acknowledge the offense, but also to be healed of it and let it go.