Anna Deavere Smith, in her documentary play “Notes from the Field,” defines forgiveness as motivated by religion. Smith first presents forgiveness through the 2015 massacre at Mother Emanuel Church (Smith 01:12:57). During the shooter’s sentencing, church members tell him, “I forgive you” and “I forgive you, and my family forgives you” (01:13:55). Another person adds, “We are the family that love built. We have no room for hating, so we have to forgive!” (1:14:12). In this case, the church members’ identity as Christians motivates or perhaps even necessitates their forgiveness. Smith also discusses Congressman John Lewis’ forgiveness: Lewis forgives a police chief whose department abused Lewis during the Civil Rights movement (01:20:15-01:23:45). Smith-as-Lewis refers to this encounter as “a moment of grace” and invites the crowd to sing “Amazing Grace” in response (01:23:05-01:24:30). The hymn suggests that for Lewis, too, forgiveness is possible through divine grace. However, this realization raises more questions that it answers for the U.S. justice system, the focus of Smith’s documentary. Can forgiveness coexist with punitive justice? Is demanding or providing forgiveness just if forgiveness belongs to the realm of the church rather than the state? Smith’s work offers no decisive answer.
Shachar Pinsker, in his essay “On Jewish Revenge,” introduces forgiveness through temporality rather than religion. He cites Berel Lang’s definition of forgiveness as “the attempt to erase what happened in the past” and juxtaposes forgiveness with revenge, wherein “in the desire to avenge wrong acts, the past must persist” (Pinsker). For Pinsker, revenge stems from a desire for justice in response to past wrongs (Pinsker). However, forgiveness is an effort to forget the past, so it does not address the continued impact of historic wrongs. Forgiveness therefore cannot effect justice. Instead, in order to attain justice in modern crises like the Israel-Hamas war, Pinsker proposes that the world needs an improved understanding of Jewish vengeance. Without acknowledging the “unspeakable historical suffering” Jewish people have experienced and the desire for vengeance that their suffering creates, we cannot justly resolve Israel and Hamas’ conflict.
William Cheng’s discussion of forgiveness incorporates elements of both Smith and Pinsker’s definitions (Cheng 225). Cheng presents forgiveness as the product of “radical black compassion,” which arises from “faith that people can be more than the worst of what they’ve done” (223). By framing forgiveness as “verg[ing] on the miraculous” and tied to “faith,” Cheng, like Smith, suggests that Christian beliefs drive forgiveness (223). However, Cheng also acknowledges a Pinsker-esque understanding of forgiveness as insufficient for justice. He explains that Lucy McBath, murder victim Jordan Russell Davis’ mother, “has admitted the exhaustion of clutching fury in one hand while conferring forgiveness with the other” (224). Fury—or rather, a desire for just punishment—seems impossible to reconcile with forgiveness. Ultimately, though, “forgiving [her son’s murder] Michael Dunn doesn’t negate” McBath’s anger (Cheng 224). Through McBath’s reconciliation of anger and forgiveness, Cheng suggests that, contrary to Pinsker’s conclusion, vengeful emotions like anger can coexist with faith-inspired forgiveness.
