Forgiveness
by:
Kelley Sawyer
Forgiveness is a truly divine and amazing act. It is not something to be taken lightly and given without thought, but something which should be deeply considered and given from the deepest recesses of one’s heart. In my opinion, love, compassion and forgiveness constitute the backbone of our humanity. In essence, what sort of world would this be if we did not forgive? The Archbishop Desmond Tutu once stated, "Without memory, there can be no healing. Without forgiveness, there can be no future." These words carry more wisdom than we may ever know. To forgive isn’t necessarily to forget. Sometimes remembrance can prevent the same atrocity from occurring again. However, lack of forgiveness only hurts -- not helps -- all those involved. In his book The Sunflower, Simon Wiesenthal poses an extremely difficult and thought-provoking question: You are a prisoner in a concentration camp. A dying Nazi soldier asks for your forgiveness. What would you do? My initial reaction to this is, "forgive him," for it is deeply ingrained in my being to do so under almost any circumstances. Forgiveness to me is a divine action. It is one of the greatest gifts one human being can bestow upon another. However, in this case, circumstances are difficult, to say the least, and much consideration must be undertaken to answer the question proposed.
First of all, we must consider the background events and the fact that this is not simply a theoretical question thrown at us out of nowhere. Mr. Wiesenthal is an actual Holocaust survivor. During World War II he spent months in a German death camp and experienced the horrors and tortures first-hand. While imprisoned in this camp, Wiesenthal was brought into a room with a dying German soldier to listen to his deathbed confession. Wiesenthal sat quietly and listened as the Nazi described the atrocious acts which he had committed against the Jewish people. The dying man begged Wiesenthal’s forgiveness, as a Jew, for unspeakable crimes. Wiesenthal actually felt tinges of compassion for the man, and did a noble thing by simply hearing him out, but after the soldier had said his piece, Simon Wiesenthal walked quietly out of the room. Since that day, Wiesenthal has had doubts about his decision. He has never actually said that he was wrong for not giving the Nazi soldier the forgiveness he sought, but it has obviously been something weighing heavily on his mind for many years. Now he asks our opinion: "What would you do?"
This is a difficult and complex question. There are so many things to consider in terms of diverse beliefs and opinions. None of us can say with complete certainty how we would respond if put into the same situation. It is difficult to answer the question from half a century away, not having gone through the tortures that Simon and his peers did. However, from a moral standpoint based on my beliefs, I can say what I would hope to do in this situation. To me, forgiveness is imperative and precious -- I would forgive. It is the Christian belief that we must forgive others for their wrongdoing just as God has forgiven us. Jesus, as Theodore Hesburgh said, is our example as "the great forgiver." According to my beliefs, we are taught to love one another. This encompasses forgiveness for wrong done against us and our people. Forgiveness is something mighty and divine -- should we, then, not strive towards that? In addition, forgiveness is not only liberating for the forgiven, but healing and cleansing for the forgiver. Forgiving is not pretending the act did not happen, or even forgetting, but the process of moving forward and loosening bitterness and hate which may be bottled inside. Forgiveness, like truth, will set you free.
Having said this, I must also stress that I can not "ride high atop my moral horse" and condemn Simon for what he did. I can not judge him harshly for one main reason: I have not gone through anything even comparable to what he had to endure. It is entirely too easy to sit and ponder the ethics of forgiveness in the comfort of one’s home, especially when one lives over half a century away from the situation they are pondering. It is simple to say now: "Yes, Simon, you should have forgiven the dying man. He poured out an excruciating confession and rested his hopes for relief on you, and you turned him away. That was wrong." In truth, we really have no power to say that. We as mere humans do not have the power to judge. This is why I, like many of the other respondents to Wiesenthal’s question, can not pass judgment on Simon. I can only respond to what I believe is right according to my own moral "ruler," and express what I would hope to have done in that situation.
Supporters of Wiesenthal’s actions bring out interesting and sometimes valid points as to why he should not have forgiven Karl. Among them the opinion which seems to stand out and is shared by the majority of respondents who are against forgiveness is the Jewish belief that one can not forgive another person for a wrong which has been committed against someone other than themselves. One respondent, Abraham Joshua Heschel, offers, "No one can forgive crimes committed against other people. It is therefore preposterous to assume that anybody alive can extend forgiveness for the suffering of any one of the six million people who perished" (Heschel 171). It is true -- it makes sense that it may not be our place to forgive someone for a crime they have committed against another person, such as murdering someone else’s child or brutally beating someone whom we have never met. Who has empowered us to grant this person forgiveness on behalf of the victims? However, in this case the forgiveness being asked of Simon was personal. The Nazi soldier asked Simon’s forgiveness because he was a victim. I tend to agree with Christopher Hollis on the following point:
But insofar as this act was not merely a personal act of one SS man against one Jewish child but an incident in a general campaign of genocide, the author was as much a victim -- or likely to be soon a victim -- of that campaign as was the child, and, being a sufferer, had therefore the right to forgive. His forgiveness could not in the nature of things be the casual, idle word of someone who pardoned without caring the perpetrator of a distant crime to which he was really indifferent. (Hollis 179)
Although someone put in Simon’s position would have the right to forgive, this does not mean that they could absolve the perpetrator of their crime, for this is up to a higher being. All one could do is accept the soldier’s sincere remorse and forgive on behalf of oneself.
Another recurring position taken by those respondents who admitted they would not forgive Karl, the dying SS man, is succinctly stated in Andre Stein’s response. Stein says that 1) "those who cast a stone at Simon show a greater affinity for the dying murderer than his victims," and 2) "that by lobbying for forgiving the young SS man, they view Nazism through spuriously human glasses" (Stein 251). I do not agree with these views at all. I believe that the act of forgiveness is not a question of "taking sides" between the victims and perpetrators. Forgiveness is a much deeper act. It is a beautiful, selfless, and cleansing action. When we choose to forgive, we rise above simply choosing who to show compassion to. In forgiveness, we find peace and healing not only for the ones we forgive, but for ourselves as well. In addition, forgiving the perpetrator is not the same thing as forgiving the crime. In saying, "I forgive you" to a repentant murderer, we are not saying, "I forgive murder." I believe there is a difference between the two. We are taught that if someone is remorseful and truly sorry for his/her wrongdoing, forgiveness is in order. This does not mean, though, that we forgive or condone the wrong they have done. As human beings, we should forgive people. This does not necessarily mean that we forget the atrocities they have committed, for sometimes remembrance is as vital to healing as forgiveness is.
I will take this opportunity to say that even though Simon Wiesenthal chose silence as his reaction to Karl’s plea, he acted in a kind and admirable manner -- a manner which was amazingly compassionate, considering his circumstances. Another man put in the same position might have refused to listen to the dying Nazi’s confession. Another man might even have said extremely hateful things to the soldier -- a reaction which would be completely understandable under the horrible circumstances. Simon, however, despite natural impulses to flee, stayed through the SS man’s dying words and even held the man’s hand. Simon, a concentration camp prisoner, listened to and felt tinges of sympathy for this Nazi soldier. This in itself proved a very benevolent and wonderful act. Mr. Wiesenthal must be a kind and compassionate human being; otherwise he would not have acted in this manner, or had a second thought about refusing forgiveness to this man.
Again, I do not feel it is right to judge another person’s actions until having "walked a mile in their shoes." Nevertheless, I remain convinced that forgiveness is always the best policy. In this case forgiveness would not only have helped to put Simon at peace, but would have given comfort to a dying man. One of the reasons that Mr. Wiesenthal is bothered most about his reaction is that in his silence he refused the last request of a dying man. In fact, after relating his experience with the soldier to his friends in the camp, he exclaimed, "I have failed to carry out the last wish of a dying man. I gave him no answer to his final question!" (Wiesenthal 66). He is clearly disturbed about this decision, as he demonstrates a couple of years later when he pays a visit to the SS man’s mother. Out of kindness and respect to the tragic widow, Simon keeps silent about her son’s crimes. In my opinion, this is a very admirable action. If I were faced with a situation where a dying man pleaded with me for forgiveness, I would find it extremely difficult not to grant it if this dying man were truly remorseful and repentant. Simon Wiesenthal found this very thing extremely difficult, even though he himself was being persecuted by the dying man’s kind at the time. John T. Pawlikowski presents an interesting idea in his response. He proposes basically that in his silence, and because of his later conversations with others about this silence and his general uneasiness, Wiesenthal has possibly chosen to forgive the SS man at his inner level. Publicly, Pawlikowski relates, Simon may not have forgiven Karl in so many words, but privately he may have made the choice, if even subconsciously (Pawlikowski 221). This truly makes sense.
The ultimate question here -- the central moral issue under examination -- is the capacity to forgive someone of a crime as atrocious as genocide. This question is one of the most difficult a human being can face, and most of us are truly lucky that the only way we may come across it is in theory. Although no one who has not been in the same position as Mr. Wiesenthal was once in has the right to judge his actions, we do have the opportunity to respond to the question from a moral standpoint. We may only say what we would hope to do. Even if we respond that we would hope to forgive the dying SS man, this does not make us superior in any way to those who chose not to. We each have our own sets of beliefs and opinions. Also, no one can say with absolute resolve what we would have done under that particular set of circumstances. Like so many others, I was asked the question, "What would you do?" Because of my beliefs and feelings about forgiveness in general, I chose that response. I believe in love, compassion, and forgiveness above all else. We are all of the same mold -- all children of God -- and should strive towards understanding and reconciliation whenever possible. For what sort of world would we inhabit if it were devoid of forgiveness. Without forgiveness, there can truly be no future.
Works Cited
Heschel, Abraham Joshua. "The Sunflower." The Sunflower. New
York: Schocken Books, 1998. 170-72.
Hollis, Christopher. "The Sunflower." The Sunflower. New York:
Schocken Books, 1998. 175-81.
Pawlikowski, John T. "The Sunflower." The Sunflower. New York:
Schocken Books, 1998.
220-25.
Stein, Andre. "The Sunflower." The Sunflower. New York: Schocken
Books, 1998. 250-55.
Wiesenthal, Simon. The Sunflower. New York: Schocken Books, 1998.