Continued from the last post where I am writing about how a 2022 book is helping me clarify my thinking about repentance and forgiveness. Recap:
The point here is, this book helped me immensely in clarifying my thinking… It mostly has to do with untangling concepts that have become, at least in my mind, enmeshed with each other.
…First off, Rabbi Ruttenberg separates the concepts of "the perpetrator's repentance" and "the victim's forgiveness." The work that the perpetrator must do is not dependent on the victim's ability or willingness to extend forgiveness. The victim's decision to forgive or not forgive may take place whether the perpetrator ever repents or not. The two processes can inform one another but they are not the same process and they do not require the perpetrator and the victim to have contact or an exchange of any sort of information or messages with one another.
That divides our discussion into two bundles of concepts: one about the perpetrator's work, and one about the victim's process. In a subsequent post, I'll write about how Rabbi Ruttenberg has clarified my thinking about the victim's part. For the remainder of this post, I'll take up the perpetrator's bundle.
The last post was about how Rabbi Ruttenberg's book clarified my thinking about the perpetrator's job of repentance. This post will be about the work of forgiveness.
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The discussion of forgiveness begins in the part of the book where Rabbi Ruttenberg is laying out the steps of repentance, because she needs to explain what it does and doesn't have to do with the perpetrator's responsibilities. Recall (from the last post) that Rabbi Ruttenberg laid out the scholar Maimonides's five steps of repentance, and one post-script:
- owning up to the harm
- forming a firm purpose of amendment (starting to change for the better)
- making restitution and/or accepting punishment
- making a sincere apology to the victim and other affected parties, possibly to the public
- transformation of the self into someone who doesn't do that anymore
When the obligations of the penitent (taken from the above five steps) are adequately discharged as far as he has power, then (in Maimonides's tradition) he may seek the last closure, i.e.,
understood in the context of Yom Kippur.
The way that I'm being personally helped by this book is by the separation of these concepts, these steps of repentance as separate and necessary parts of the larger work of repentance, so they can be individually considered and evaluated. And so, as we turn to considering forgiveness —let's look at that step of apology, which is obviously closely related.
In a good, complete, apology, a perpetrator usually asks for forgiveness. I think we all understand that a perpetrator does not have the right to demand forgiveness; he should understand that forgiveness, if it is offered, is a free gift—otherwise, it's a confused sort of apology, if it counts as an apology at all. Right? Isn't that sort of the essence of an apology? An acknowledgment that forgiveness is not deserved at least without some demonstration on the perpetrator's part?
And indeed, in the steps of repentance, the apology does not come first, nor even second. First the harm and one's part in it must be admitted, confessed to, acknowledged, truthfully and without minimization. Next, the beginnings of change—and the barest beginning of change is the desire to do better. Next, restitution and/or accepting consequences; at least this must be begun; one of the consequences one should accept is the necessity of the humble apology and the begging for (not demanding or coercing) forgiveness. And then, with that evidence of walking the walk of repentance shoring him up, the perpetrator may apologize.
He begs for forgiveness, and then, whether the victim agrees to forgive or not, he must continue with the rest of the work.
In Rabbi Ruttenberg's view of Jewish law here, the victim is encouraged for their own good to forgive, but in certain circumstances is not required to do so. Nevertheless, even without the victim's forgiveness, there is mercy here for the perpetrator. Rabbi Ruttenberg explains that the law lays out a way for the perpetrator to know when he's apologized and begged forgiveness "enough:" perhaps it wasn't "enough" for the victim, but it can be "enough" for the perpetrator to lay down the work of begging, accept that they will not receive the gift of the victim's forgiveness, and continue the work of transformation. Atonement becomes possible when the whole process has been sincerely tried.
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Recall, though, that our big question is: what is meant by forgiveness? What is this thing which, from the perpetrator's point of view, we are to regard as an undeserved gift from a victim—but which we Christians have often heard described as a required step for our own salvation? How to untangle these concepts?
The first clue we get from Rabbi Ruttenberg (who notes that English "forgive" comes from a word meaning "to give, bestow") is a distinction between two Hebrew words that are used in the context of forgiveness.
The first is mechila, which might be better translated as "pardon." It has the connotation of relinquishing a claim against an offender; it's transactional… the acknowledgment that the perpetrator no longer owes them, that they have done the repair work necessary to settle the situation…. It doesn't mean that we pretend [it] never happened, and it doesn't (necessarily) mean that our relationship will return to how it was before….With mechila, whatever else I may feel or not feel about you… we're done here.
Slicha, on the other hand, may be better translated as "forgiveness"… It looks with a compassionate eye at the penitent perpetrator and sees their humanity and vulnerability, recognizes that, even if they have caused great harm, they are worthy of empathy and mercy…. [i]t does not denote a restored relationship…(neither does the English word, actually; "reconciliation" carries that meaning), nor…a requirement that the victim act like nothing happened. But it has more of the softness, that letting-go quality associated with "forgiveness" in English.
Notably, the Jewish literature of repentance mostly deals with mechila… What needs to be done to close accounts, here?
So we begin to think of these two different ways we might imagine "forgiveness."
And then we also consider the two sides of the forgiveness coin, or currency: There must be a sense in which forgiveness, if it is to be given, must be given freely; else, a perpetrator would have the right to demand it from us (and we know, especially from having been repentant perpetrators ourselves, that it is repellent to consider such a demand as just). And there must also be a sense in which Christianity requires it of us somehow: the words in the Gospel of Matthew must mean something.
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I'm inclined not to make any prescriptions at this point about whether one or both of these Hebrew concepts, slicha or mechila, is exactly what Jesus meant when He talked about forgiveness. I'm inclined just to note that they do, indeed, appear to be two different concepts, and it is easy to imagine being prescribed (as a victim) to do our best, at the appropriate time, to achieve one or the other.
Mechila: It makes sense that there may come a point when the perpetrator, having repented, having paid us what he can, has done enough and we don't need him to do anymore; a point when it would be better for us to move on with our lives. (Rabbi Ruttenberg notes that, in cases wheref the harm is irreparable, she agrees with authoritative sources who say the victim is not obligated to forgive at all; but she concedes that it may be better for the victim's healing to choose to do so.) It squares with Christian thought that we ought to refrain from total retribution or from insisting on reparations that leave the perpetrator in utter poverty, even if this was the only way to be made whole.
Slicha: It also makes complete sense, in the Christian worldview, that no human being is worthless, God loves everyone, and so simple humility and truthfulness requires us to remember that humanity, the need for mercy. They may, for instance, deserve pity, and an understanding of circumstances that explain, if not excuse, the behavior. This is the sense where instead of hoping for the perpetrator's downfall, it accords more with Christian thought to try to hope for the perpetrator's conversion, repentance, and eventual salvation.
So maybe Jesus means: When the perpetrator has repented, apologized, and made amends, started to become better: then, release them from their obligation to you.
Or maybe Jesus means: After the hurt has passed, remember that the perpetrator needs mercy, as you also need mercy.
But neither of these are necessarily places that we can get to quickly, or easily. The medicine may be good for us, but it can be bitter. And it doesn't go down in one gulp.
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From a podcast called We Can Do Hard Things, episode 163, "How to Make Wrongs Right with Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg," in which the hosts interviewed the author:
…It often feels like, 'can you forgive me?' feels shorthand for 'can we pretend that that never happened? Can we go back to a way where that never happened?' And that feels like… the opposite of forgiveness for the person, which is accepting that it can never be…"
Here are some things that forgiveness (either kind) is distinguishable from:
- forgetting what happened
- healing from the trauma caused by the perpetrator
- transforming the injury into wisdom or growth
- transforming anger, rage, or sorrow into positive actions
- having compassion for the perpetrator's suffering or poor situation
- declining to hold the perpetrator accountable
- minimizing the harm or the intent
- silence that protects the perpetrator or the systems within which he was able to cause harm
- restoration of the relationship to the way it was before; pretending the injury never happened
- reconciliation, returning to a renewed relationship
- putting oneself back in reach of the perpetrator, where he has the opportunity and perhaps the temptation to harm you again in the same way.
The injunction to forgive others their trespasses—mechila or slicha or some other mysterious thing—has been used against sincere Christians in a sneaky way, to imply that Jesus wants their silence. Jesus wants their not making trouble. Jesus wants them to forget, to pretend, to not be so goddam sensitive. So there is a long, painful history of coerced forgiveness there, which is not really coerced "forgiveness" but is instead coercion that aims at some combination of these other things, these things which serve the perpetrator and serve the structures that let the perpetrator do harm.
Rabbi Ruttenberg's formulation also seems to imply that in serious situations, forgiving too soon may actually deprive the perpetrator of an opportunity to do the real work of repentance. What if, deprived of consequences, the perpetrator never realizes he has work to do at all? Forgiveness is a gift, but (at least initially) withholding forgiveness might be a gift as well. It depends on the human beings involved.
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I think that the answer to "how do you know when you've forgiven?" is not one that can be addressed in generalities. I very much doubt there is a single formula that is correct for everyone.
Instead of asking "Is forgiveness something that mostly happens inside the forgiver?" —I think we have to, within our situation, ask: Is the forgiveness I am called to try to achieve, something that will happen mainly inside me?
Instead of asking "At what point in the process of a penitent's repentance must forgiveness be offered?" I think we, in a particular situation of forgiveness, need to be asking: What evidence is there that this person who harmed me has acknowledged what he did, has remorse for it, desires to change? Has he repaid me or accepted the consequence? Has he done as much as he is capable of? And then, upon determining the answer to these questions: Can I forgive him at this point? Would that interrupt his process? Does he need to know about it?
These are principles that must be considered and worked through—like so many moral questions. They are not canned answers that work the same way in every circumstances. But with a clear idea of the difference between forgiveness and the things that masquerade as forgiveness, victims have a better chance of escaping the false forgivenesses that serve neither justice nor mercy, and finding a place of real peace and closure.
I recommend Rabbi Ruttenberg's book as an example of that clarity.
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