On Forgiveness and Justice — a Filipino Christian perspective as regards to extrajudicial killings
Justice is one of those things that I readily put on the ‘above my paygrade’ column in my viewpoint of Creation. It’s too big, too multi-faceted, too much for a limited, time-bound, gets-angry-when-hungry creature like me.
To make rulings on what Justice is would require me to judge people — and just how are you supposed to do that? How do you weigh the totality of a person’s goodness against the evil of his actions? How do you measure the darkness of what a person has done versus the luminous possibility of what he could turn into in the future? When do you say ‘enough’ and condemn a man to his end?
Fortunately, that is something that God has expressly told us not to do — not before looking at our own sins, at least. Yet, humans — even Christians — are exceedingly predisposed to judging others (something we’re not supposed to do) while being superbly awful at forgiveness (something we’re commanded to do).
Our society’s acceptance of extrajudicial killings (EJKs) as a response to crime is an example of this. Millions of us have decided that we’ve simply had enough. We’d rather kill than deal with evil being done to us. This is something that no Christian should ever tolerate. So instead of concentrating on Justice, I’d reach for the opposite and talk about Forgiveness.
A preacher from Texas I know once wrote that the problem with forgiveness is that we don’t know what it means. There is no definition that we all agree on. We talk about it, we use it in our inspirational quotes, and we even give it as advice to others but we don’t really know what it is, much less how to do it.
We know it’s impossible to forget, but have we really forgiven someone if we’re still wary that they’d do evil to us again? Can we say we’ve forgiven if it still hurts? Does forgiveness require that we trust the person again completely, as if they’ve never done anything wrong to us? These questions are of utmost importance — especially to anyone who has been hurt but is still hoping for restoration.
Another problem with forgiveness is that it requires us to let go of our claims to our pain — and that’s difficult because against all sense, we feel possessive toward our hurts. We hoard them as if they have value, as if we lessen ourselves if we let them go. Like Smeagol of Tolkien lore, we treat the thing that corrupts us as something precious to us. Worse, we use our wounds to justify doing evil in turn.
Even the apostles had trouble with the concept of forgiveness. In Chapter 18 of the Book of Matthew, Peter asked Jesus if he should forgive a brother as many as seven times. Jesus’ answer, of course, was mind-blowing. “I say not unto thee, until seven times, but until seventy times seven.”
Imagine it — a man borrows money from you, doesn’t pay, asks for forgiveness, and then does it again tomorrow. And you’d have to give it not just once, not even a hundred times, but 490 times. Let’s picture something worse: your wife takes another man into your own bed, says sorry, and then does the same thing again and again and again. You’d have to forgive her knowing full well that she could be at it again on the morrow. No sane man would do it. No sane man could do it.
The Texan preacher made the argument that Jesus probably wasn’t really pointing to a ridiculous number. He was answering the real question behind Peter’s ‘noble’ inquiry. Peter wasn’t really asking how many times he should forgive; his real question was how long before he’s justified in striking back.
How long before I can swing back at the guy who punched me? How long before I can say no to my brother who keeps taking advantage? How long before I can say “enough” and finally leave the woman who keeps destroying me and spitting at my dignity?
Jesus’ response highlighted that there is something wrong with our attitude about forgiveness if we’re only waiting for the time until we can stop. If we treat forgiveness as something that we do only because we’re required to, then we missed the point of it.
“Forgive us our sins as we have forgiven those who sinned against us” — may be the most controversial line in the only prayer taught by Jesus. I could be wrong, but it would appear that forgiveness is not just a simple suggestion that we can opt to ignore. There’s a cosmic consequence, an eternal effect contingent on whether or not we forgive. Forgiveness and redemption come hand in hand. Choose to forgive and you restore not just the offender but also yourself.
Jesus also didn’t define forgiveness, but he certainly lived it. For him, there are two things that lie at the core of forgiveness: relinquishing claims to hurt and extravagance in restoration. You can’t do it without letting go, and you can’t do it timidly. If you think you can forgive by doing the bare minimum — just maintaining the peace — then you and Jesus have very different ideas about forgiveness. Forgiveness is about the restoration of old titles and proper places.
He showed it when he restored an outcast by sending a legion of demons to approximately 2,000 pigs — consequently plundering the livelihood of a community. He showed it when he asked Peter three times if he loved him — not just forgiving Peter but also elevating him by bestowing grace and honor to him as the steward of his flock. He did it when he chose to abdicate his honored position and come down to Earth to do the one thing he can’t do in heaven — to die for us. For Jesus, there is no price too high to pay in the name of forgiveness/redemption — not the economic stability of a society, not his wounded feelings, and not even his place in heaven. How much you’ve been hurt, it seems, is nowhere near as important as what’s at stake if you don’t forgive.
Whereas Justice and Judgment lie strictly in the purview of The Father, Forgiveness is obedience to Jesus. And that’s why I think Filipino Christians have no business concerning themselves with ‘fixing’ the Philippines through street justice. Whether or not we think it’s what our country needs is irrelevant. As the Bride of Christ, our mandate lies in the opposite of condemnation — in forgiveness and restoration.
