Erika and Donald, The Two Human Impulses; Choose Life and Blessings

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." – Mark Twain

No matter where you stand politically, a big event happened Sunday in Glendale, Arizona. You have no doubt read much about it. But what I want to mull over is not the life of Charlie Kirk, Not Turning Point, not the left nor the right, but rather the practice of forgiveness.

This morning, I watched some clips and read transcripts of the memorial. Evidently it was a scene of passion, tears, applause, and even laughter which I will abbreviate. Charles’s wife, Erika, stood bravely at the microphone. Her voice trembled but was clear: “I forgive the young man who shot my husband.” The stadium erupted in applause.

Later, President Donald Trump took the stage. He declared, “I don’t love my enemies. I hate them. I don’t wish them well.” This time the stadium laughed.

Applause for forgiveness. Laughter for hatred. Did any of you notice that? What was happening inside those thousands of hearts? Perhaps the same thing that happens in lots of human hearts. It's an important thing for us to notice!

When Erika forgave, people felt what psychologists call moral elevation. Research shows that when we witness forgiveness, kindness, or compassion, our chests swell, goosebumps prickle, and tears may even come. It’s as though her forgiveness gave us a glimpse of something larger, something holy.

In Christian faith (and many other religions), forgiveness is central: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Erika’s words lit that flame, and we clapped not only for her but for the hope that grace is possible even in horror.

I have heard very moving stories of people who fell in love with someone when they witnessed them doing an elevating act like stopping to help old people or hurting people that others pass by. Jesus told a parable which has become known as The Good Samaritan. The story continues to elevate people two thousand years later.

After Erika spoke, The U.S. president, Donald Trump spoke. He flipped the script. Instead of loving enemies, he admitted hating them. People laughed—not necessarily because hatred is funny, but more probably because it was raw, relatable.

Laughter is often a release. He voiced what many carry in secret: I don’t want to forgive. I want to strike back. Perhaps the laughter was a signal of solidarity: “He said what I often feel but rarely admit.”

Sociologists tell us laughter in a crowd often marks belonging. Applause lifts us toward an ideal. Laughter can ground us in our tribal instincts. Both live in us—the yearning for compassion and the craving for vengeance.

Let’s back up for a moment and start at the beginning to understand more about us humans. What is forgiveness?

Forgiveness is often misunderstood. It isn’t saying, “It didn’t matter.” It isn’t forgetting. It isn’t excusing harm. Forgiveness, psychologists say, is a process where a person who has been wronged chooses to release legitimate resentment and thoughts of revenge, while still taking harm seriously. It’s not about denying pain; it’s about refusing to be chained to it.

Researchers Everett Worthington and Robert Enright, pioneers in forgiveness science, remind us that forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves as much as the offender. It doesn’t mean reconciliation is always possible or safe. But it means we are no longer letting the wound control our lives.

Here’s is why forgiveness is so hard:

• The wound is real. We don’t want to minimize it.

• Anger feels protective. As evolutionary psychology shows, anger signals “you can’t treat me this way.” Letting it go can feel like letting down our guard.

• Fairness feels violated. Our brains are wired for justice. Forgiveness feels like giving up justice.

• Fear of vulnerability. Forgiveness feels like weakness, though research shows it takes courage and strength.

  
  

And I do have several stories about a couple of Christian women who had problems with forgiveness that did actually make me laugh (to myself) when they happened.

One happened several weeks ago. At the community meal. A tiny woman in her 90s that I just cannot help but have affection for, grabbed me by the arm as she came in the door.

“My knees are hurting.  I’m praying every night.  I’m trying to forgive people, because I know that’s what we’re supposed to do.  It’s a commandment. But I am having so much trouble. I  keep praying, getting down on my knees every night.  My knees are really hurting.” 

Something made me smile inside. Perhaps it was her diligent commitment, her sweetness, her saying out loud what was going on with her.  I did acknowledge how hard forgiveness can be.  (She confessed afterwards, “I worry too.” That just makes me laugh as well.  It is just so human I guess. Who doesn’t worry?  Is admitting it like going to an AA session and admitting you have fallen off the wagon?)

The other situation that made me smile happened years ago.  A guest minister gave a sermon on forgiveness.  As I went down the stairs of the church, a woman behind me yelled. Her arms were flapping as she tried to catch up with me. “I want to ask you something. Do you think there are some people you just can’t forgive?”

I knew she was talking about an ex-husband.  She had been carrying the grudge for a multitude of years. And she was still all lit up about it. Probably she sought exoneration. Some rationale to keep the anger stoked. Perhaps compassion would have been the better response. But all I could do was say, “Maybe it is best for us all to start with a smallish act of forgiveness before we move to the really big stuff.”

Perhaps I am laughing (inside) because I get it.  It’s hard to forgive. I know of what I speak here. Something about it just seems wrong. And those self-righteous forgiveness preacher folks can get on my nerves when I'm trying and it's not working.

AND, at the same time, we know from our wisdom literature as well as psychology that, indeed, carrying a lack of forgiveness in our system for a lengthy period is hurtful not only to our relationships but also to our own health and well-being.

Truthfully, it absolutely morally elevated both John and me to hear Erika Kirk forgive her husband’s killer. She refused to do the eye for an eye thing. She refused to let herself lead or be led by hate. Frankly we were both surprised. It just didn't seem to be what would happen in our current environment. It readied us to work harder at forgiveness in our own lives.

So, when we are ready, when we see the value, how do we do this forgiveness thing? Or maybe I might say it this way, what makes real forgiveness possible? According to researchers, it usually requires:

1. Naming the harm. We can’t forgive what we don’t face.

2. Acknowledging our feelings. Anger, grief, fear—they need to be honored, not shoved away.

3. Making a choice. Forgiveness is not an emotion that floats in on a breeze. It’s a decision to begin releasing resentment.

4. Finding meaning. Many discover healing when they reframe the hurt as a chance to grow in compassion, resilience, or faith.

5. Support. Communities, counselors, and spiritual practices help carry us when forgiveness feels impossible.

To wrap this up for now.  (I say for now, because forgiveness is for me an ongoing journey.) At Charles Kirk’s memorial, we saw the two roads laid before us. One road is revenge and resentment, which can feel honest and even funny in the moment but corrodes us all over time. The other road is forgiveness, which feels almost impossible—but when someone dares it, like Erika did, we are lifted into a vision of who we might become.

We clap because when we witness forgiveness in action, it calls us to our better selves. We laugh because hatred mirrors our hidden selves. Perhaps the work is to recognize both impulses within us (Researchers have videos showing both of these impulses in babies!) and then, step by step, perhaps knee by knee, choose forgiveness—not because it is easy, but because ultimately it is freeing, elevates our spirits, strengthens our well-being and allows us to take giant steps forward on the journey to the Good Life.

If you are of the mind, take into consideration Moses’ little chat with the Israelites as they are about to head to the Promised Land:

…I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.”

How might we journey together to the Good Life by recognizing both the impulse to forgive and the impulse for revenge within us? 

Sidebar:

Here is a forgiveness quiz that can help you think about your practice (or not) of forgiveness.

Check in with yourself. Answer honestly—yes or no.

1. When I think of the person who hurt me, I still feel overwhelming anger.

2. I want them to suffer like I did.

3. I avoid thinking about them because it stirs too much pain.

4. If they apologized sincerely, I would find it easier to forgive.

5. I recognize forgiveness would benefit me, even if they never change.

6. I believe forgiveness means pretending the harm didn’t happen.

7. I would like to be free of the bitterness I feel.

Scoring:

• If you answered yes to 1–3, you may still be in the thick of the hurt—that’s normal.

• If you answered yes to 4–5, you’re already glimpsing the path toward forgiveness.

• If you answered yes to 6, you may be carrying a misconception about forgiveness—it never means minimizing harm.

• If you answered yes to 7, you are ready to begin the journey.

You may be interested in reading a nice article from the Anglican by David Roseberry about Erika Kirk's forgiveness which tells more about the event and what it means for us at this point in time