Reading Francis

It was a murder so heinous that it shocked the nation. So much did it command the national attention that, even in a gun-soaked country grown weary of mass shootings, the President of the United States traveled to join family members in mourning the lost. Staggering everyone, the spouse of the victim forgave the killer. By doing so, they bore witness to the power of the Holy Spirit to enable us to love as God loves, even beyond any reasonable human expectation.

This was what happened in 2015, when Rev. Anthony Thompson, along with three other family members of victims of the mass shooting at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC, publicly forgave the young white supremacist who opened fire on a Bible Study in the historic African-American church, killing their loved ones. It happened again yesterday, when Erika Kirk publicly forgave and prayed for the man who shot her husband, Charlie Kirk.

In both cases, and others, we are confronted with the inadequacy of our own capacity to forgive, and can only credit the power of God for such a courageous, loving act. I know that I am not the only one whose reaction was, “I don’t think I could do that.” Some things more clearly require God’s help, to carry us to a place we cannot reach alone.

Unmerited forgiveness is at the core of the Christian story. God’s loving desire to forgive every sin is a theme that shows up through Scriptures before finding its most literal presentation in Jesus’ forgiveness from the cross of those who crucify Him. That we are meant to replicate this attitude in our own lives, rather than just marvel at it from afar, is clear from the death of the first Christian martyr, St. Stephen, who likewise asks God to forgive his executioners (Acts 7:59). 

What does it even mean, to forgive? First, forgiveness doesn’t mean downplaying the offense as “no big deal.” Erika Kirk will miss her husband, and Anthony Thompson his wife, every single day.

Forgiveness also doesn’t wait for contrition. The murderer of the members of Emanuel AME Church did not seek forgiveness, nor has Charlie Kirk’s killer, to my knowledge. Nor did Jesus’ executioners or Stephen’s.

Forgiveness like this can’t be compelled. Others who lost family in the Charleston shooting did not follow Rev. Thompson’s example, and others onstage with Ms. Kirk said that they are not able or willing to forgive. Nor, by the terms of human justice, should we expect them to.

Why forgive, then? First, it is what God calls us to do. It is what God has done for us, and when we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we are reminded that we are to offer to others in kind the forgiveness we ask of God. 

Forgiveness is a gift to the one who forgives, to the forgiven, and to those of us who witness it. Carrying resentment and anger, even if it’s justified, hardens us in ways that close us off to joy. Forgiveness can lift a weight that, while not freeing us from grief and pain, allows the possibility to move forward. It also opens a door to transformation for those who are forgiven, as sometimes the experience of mercy can recalibrate what we expect from life in ways that soften hearts. And of course great acts of forgiveness are a challenge and inspiration to the rest of us, who perhaps have not faced so great a wrong, yet still bear our share of grudges.

The truth is, our world today is anything but forgiving. Yet witnessing profound forgiveness offers us the reminder that it could be different, or at least that we could be different. We do not and should not wait until the deepest of betrayals to practice mercy ourselves. Forgiveness of small things may give us strength when bigger challenges come. 

I’m not saying that it’s easy. Even with the piddly little slights I encounter, forgiveness is not my first instinct. If we don’t think we have it in us to forgive, well, we’re probably right. All we can do is ask for God’s grace to carry us the rest of the way.

(If you’d like to read more about Rev. Thomson’s story, let me recommend his book, Called to Forgive.)