Forgiveness

If we latch onto a rigid ideal of free will—that, despite all the chaos, uncertainty, and complexity of this world that we live in, we are all allocated equally difficult circumstances, that we have an equal response to those circumstances, that we all play under the same rules, and thus that we become equally capable actors to carry out our individual desires—forgiveness ceases to make any sense. 

Within such a perspective, how do we explain human difference? If we presume that we operate under completely fair and equal constraints, then why is it that we’re not all the same in nature? What is the true origin of benevolence or malevolence? If we predicate that we each chose to be different, then the question inevitably boils down to what made us choose one thing over another? Why does someone choose to do good over bad, or bad over good? In such a world, the logical conclusion would be that there must be some inherent energy within each of our spirits that predisposes us towards a certain path, and, at that point, we’ve come full circle, and proved that there is no real choice, and no true free will. 

True forgiveness is fundamentally an implicit understanding of these limitations that exist within our supposed free will. If we can agree that this rigid understanding of free will is even remotely flawed, to forgive is the only right thing to do, because the alternative is the complete and utter destruction of the fabric of humanity, mired in an unceasing cycle of antagonism and blame, of pride and obstinance, of guilt and shame.