There are two senses of forgiveness. By one metric, every offence must be forgivable; by the other, none are.

To some people, forgiveness means the erasing of an event, so that it has no imprint on the present, or effect on a relationship. 

By this metric, no offence is forgivable. Events cannot be erased, and everything we do has consequences. Actions cannot be taken back; we can only pretend as if they were.

It is this meaning that is implied when we say that forgiveness would seem like a betrayal or an insult to the victim. “It happened– and you shouldn’t deny it! How dare you speak of forgiveness!”

And we’d be right. It happened. Denial, erasure, would be more than insult– it would be a fundamental betrayal. Such action only amplifies the original injury. It is in itself a form of abuse.

But I would argue that there is a more useful definition of forgiveness. Why, after all, should we cling to a concept of forgiveness that is both impossible and counterproductive?

Instead of seeing forgiveness as denial, I would define it as the personal healing that comes from recognising and accepting the past for what it was; recognising that the past is not the present; and letting go of the emotion of past events– letting past emotions be past emotions.

This kind of forgiveness does not involve denial; it is the very opposite of denial. It does not involve pretending that relationships aren’t changed by misdeed; in fact, it usually results in the transformation of relationships, as we stop lying to ourselves about who people really are.

This kind of forgiveness is not a favour we do for others, but rather it is a part of our own healing, done in our own time. No-one can demand it of us, or force it on us, and it is disrespectful for others to even try.

Forgiveness then becomes just another form of facing the truth and living in the present– a daily challenge for us all.

By this definition, no act is unforgivable.

adrian charles

barbados.

april, 2010