Scandalum Crucis: Forgiveness and the Real Scandal of the Cross

In a previous post, I've lifted up a model of forgiveness for consideration: forgiveness as an imaging of the offending Self to the victimized Other.  The claim is basically that in a situation of conflict (let's begin interpersonally), a request for forgiveness is a request for the victim to accept that image as a reflection of his/herself.  Thus, there is an "intimate mutuality" in the act of forgiveness.  If I say sorry, I am also asking that you identify with the possibility that this wrongdoing is not alien to you; you're just as capable of it as I am.  If the wrongdoing is, say, accidentally running into somebody - you were, of course, busy playing Candy Crush on your iPhone, no doubt - who is subsequently doing the same thing, the process of forgiveness is a matter of course.  But if the wrongdoing is the same, except the person you ran into had been yelling at you from a block away, "Stop playing! You're about to run into me!", the situation changes profoundly.  That person cannot identify with your actions, and so forgiveness is more difficult to enact.  That is why forgiveness is amazingly difficult in a situation such as Jankélévitch: can a Jew who suffered in the death camps forgive a Nazi?  It is utterly impossible; the Jews of the time could not imagine them being architects of such horrific acts.  Thus, one can make the claim, in the words of Jankélévitch, "forgiveness died in the death camps."

Which raises a question for Christians, for Jesus did teach that we are to forgive; in fact, we are to forgive, "as God forgave us."  But God forgave us for what, exactly?  The answer, of course, is "sin," but let us reflect a bit further.  What exactly is it about sin that "ticks God off"?  Our answers will no doubt vary depending on how we view sin.  If we think sin as some sort of  "spiritual distancing from God" then forgiveness, so to speak, "brings us back to speed."  It closes this distance.  If we see sin in an accountancy form (sin as debt), then God's forgiveness in Christ forgives this debt, making us debt-free once again, so to speak.  This sort of conception, by the way, is not unique to Christianity.  Confucian philosophies have already emphasized this, sometimes to the point of annoyance.  Chinese gift-giving practices, for instance, reflect this.  If I gave you $50 worth of gifts, you are indebted to me, a debt that can only be assuaged by regifting me $50.  Occasionally, the regifting ends up being $60 or $70 (valuation is in the eyes of the recipient, perhaps) and so begins a "war of gifts."  Silly, but comedic entertaiment, I think, so long as I'm not the one paying for the war of gifts.

But was Jesus forgiving humanity of our sins on the cross?  "Father," Jesus cried as he died on the Roman electric chair, "forgive them; they know not what they're doing."  Who's "they"? From an immediate context, "they" were the Jewish mobs.  Mob psychology, to be sure, is (and was) far from rational, as evidenced by their exchange of Jesus for Barabbas the insane murderer.  Thus, by forgiving the mob, Jesus was right - they really had no idea what they were doing.  The same was true of Communist mobs during the Cultural Revolution - everything perceived as non-Chinese or non-Proletariat was quickly destroyed without any sense of just procedure.  It was utter craziness.  But let us remain in Jesus' immediate context, because there's something significant regarding forgiveness going on.  We must note this great paradox: the mob mentality produces a tricky situation.  Alone, each mobster would not have gone to the extremes to push for Jesus' imperial execution, but together this became not just possible, but was an enacted reality.

Using our model, this situation complicates, because for Jesus to forgive them means that he could indeed identify with the mobs.  It would not be a stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that Jesus may have at some point been tempted to harbor hate and vengeance against the Roman imperial powers.  He is, in orthodox Christian articulation, fully human as he is fully divine.  Thus, for the Christian, forgiveness even in the face of grave humanitarian injustices, is rendered not impossible, for Jesus understood what it means to be in the program of the Oppressor.

I hasten to add, by the way, that this does not mean Jesus identified as an Oppressor and hate-mongerer.  We don't want to see this - in the context of the Holocaust- as Jesus being born a Nazi or a Jew.  We should imagine Jesus as being given a choice - to join the Jews in Auschwitz, or to join Hitler in Berlin.  And we need to be honest and to realize that joining Hitler in Berlin, absent of hindsight, is an attractive choice.  It is a quick "in" to power, influence, and domination.  We might even surmise that Jesus could be the "Reformer," redeeming Nazism, even, removing the evil from Nazism.  However attractive it may be (again, absent of hindsight), Christian tradition would easily locate Jesus as siding with the Jews and electing to enter Auschwitz instead.  Jesus understood what it means to be a Nazi, but he intentionally sided with those in the death camps.

The temptation, by the way, is to ask, "this makes no sense; if God were so powerful, why didn't he stop the Holocaust to begin with?"  But the same could be asked of Jesus' situation; if God were so powerful, why did Jesus die on the cross?  What we must take by faith, and what is assumed in this reflection, is that Jesus allowed himself to be taken up by the vicissitudes of history.  We are assuming not a God who masterminded every evil in the world, but a God who involves Godself in the fabric of society, continually identifying with the Oppressed.

Thus, forgiveness in the Christian articulation, did not die in the death camps.  Ironically, from a theological point of view, Derrida was right; it was precisely in the death camps that forgiveness was  found.  Forgiveness can be found there, not because Jesus accompanied the prisoners, but because Jesus was gassed, was deprived of hunger, was worked almost to death.  That is why a Christian who suffered through the death camps (they were there) can forgive their Nazi perpetrators, for Jesus identified with them, and yet, Jesus could ask his Father to forgive them.  That is why Miroslav Volf can say that he, himself, can't forgive a Cetnik, but by God, he can.  For God identified with those suffering under the Cetnik.

I am not suggesting it's easy - quite far from it!  That was Derrida's point; forgiveness needs to be crazy difficult for it to be meaningful!  If forgiveness at its hardest involved tripping others accidentally, then it really is mere apology.  But one may ask - but what about the Oppressor?  Does God not care for them?  Oh, of course!  But grace came to the house of the Oppressor through the forgiveness.  Let's be clear, when you ask me forgiveness, I hold some metaphysical power over your well-being.  I could let you continue to be saddled with the weight of your wrongdoing, and depending on the magnitude of the wrongdoing, this weight could eat people up, as it has in the past.  But in forgiving you, I release you from that weight.  I have freed you from the weight of the injustice on your shoulders.  That is why forgiveness - true forgiveness - releases both the Oppressor and the Oppressed.  That is why forgiveness is always prerequisite to reconciliation; in the process of forgiveness, what we ultimately image is not ourselves, but the Spirit working in us.