Forgiveness is not something that happens automatically in any relationship–nor should it. While it is an action prompted by unconditional love, its application must follow logic and reason. Forgiveness must often be predicated on adjustments in the transgressor’s behavior. In Part 3 of this series, I used an example from early in our marriage. While part of what went on there came from a misunderstanding of the way I was using language, we both agreed to avoid language that was violent  as a result.

We did not always succeed. One night, in the heat of an argument, Jane told me to “Go to hell–and come back.”  She realized as the first part of it came out of her mouth what she had done and tried to save it with the second half. That attempt completely deflated the intensity of the argument on both sides–and we walked things back from there. It became, eventually, a thing we could laugh at. Neither of us were perfect–but we tried to be the best we could.

We tried to carry the idea of forgiveness into our relationships with others–but it was not always easy. Sometimes things happen that shatter the trust that must be present in the teacher-student relationship. Sometimes the penance necessary to rebuilding that trust seems–at least to the students involved–excessive. Holding anyone at arm’s length for a long period of time was difficult for either of us. But sometimes that is what our love for others required of us. There are some lessons that can only be learned in specific ways. Or maybe we were just not wise enough to find other ways.

Ronald Reagan had a wonderful line he used during disarmament talks with the old Soviet Union: Trust, but verify. Without the ability to verify that a change in behavior has occurred, it is difficult to trust.

And there are those whose actions are so heinous that forgiveness can be a long time coming. I caught the very end of a Rifleman episode from the late 1950s or early 1960s the other night when I turned on the TV a little early to catch a M*A*S*H rerun. Chuck Connor’s character is a single father, but I never saw what happened to his wife. The episode in question appeared to have answered that question–and the ending implied that her father had something to do with it–and whatever it was had shattered the relationship between the two male adults.

In the final scene, the wife’s father says to the Connor character that he hopes someday the Rifleman will be able to forgive him. Connor explains that he does not hate the man. “Not hating is the beginning of forgiveness,” the old man replies.

Jane and I always tried not to hate anyone. That may have made forgiveness ultimately easier for both of us. Our love for each other made forgiving the other inevitable. One cannot stay angry in the presence of that kind of love for very long.