In our politically divided society, there are sharply differing reactions to the political rally combined with memorial tribute to Charlie Kirk, who was assassinated on Sept. 10.
But there is almost universal tribute to his young widow's moving testimony that she forgave his killer.
There is also almost universal comment on the starkly contrasting words of President Trump immediately following.
Erika Kirk had said: “I forgive him because it was what Christ did, and it's what Charlie would do." "The answer to hate is not hate. The answer we know from the Gospel is love — always love.”
Trump voiced a very different response. He did not feign forgiveness, saying instead that Charlie Kirk “did not hate his opponents. He wanted the best for them. That’s where I disagreed with Charlie. And I don't want the best for them. I'm sorry. I am sorry, Erika.”
A very-charitable reading might hold that he confessed that he simply lacked her depth for forgiveness, since he added, “But now Erika can talk to me and the whole group, and maybe they can convince me that that's not right.”
It’s much more likely that it reflected his penchant for payback to perceived opponents.
These contrasting statements broach the complex question of the relation of justice and mercy in the political order. Apart from his pardoning power, the president as a government official has little power to forgive, as do most government personnel in their official role.
Imagine that Kirk's accused assassin Tyler Robinson is properly convicted in a court of law, but the judge then says, “You are convicted of a heinous crime, but I forgive you and so you may go free."
I think most of us would respond that this is both beyond the authority of a judge and thereby a monstrous injustice.
This highlights the vexed question of the relation of forgiveness and justice, for each of us and particularly for the state? Paul writes in Romans 13:4: “If you do wrong, then you may well be afraid; because it is not for nothing that the symbol of authority is the sword: it is there to serve God, too, as his avenger, to bring retribution to wrongdoers.”
I have asked noted theologians about this relation and discovered that, while personally I was thinking in a political context, they stressed first that this was a matter deep at the heart of the atonement, wherein Jesus' own sacrifice leads to our forgiveness. This has been discussed and contested in the church for two millennia, and leads to different responses, especially in the Orthodox world as against Western churches. So, I do not expect soon any clear resolution, including in the lesser area of politics. I am aware that mercy and forgiveness have subtle differences, Here I use them interchangeably.
However, there are examples in which mercy and justice in the political order may meet.
One was South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In the aftermath of apartheid and government repression, the commission called on people to confess the evil that they had done. In return, they would not be charged for anything that they had revealed. For anything that they kept hidden, they could later be prosecuted.
In 1998, as an advisor to the new government on language policy, I interviewed one Commissioner and asked about how he saw its duties. After the formal taped interview, the Commissioner asked, kindly, “We seem to be being interviewed by everyone in the world. Why is everybody so interested in what we do?”
I thought for a while and responded, “I think it is because this is the only government body in the world that has forgiveness as part of its mandate.”
He also thought for a while and then, as a distinguished and careful lawyer, said precisely, “But we do not forgive. We simply give amnesty — that we will not prosecute people for things that they have admitted.”
He was legally correct. But in the same room were two ladies whose job was to reach out into the communities to encourage people to come and testify before the Commission about what they had done, and, for most, what had been done to them.
When the commissioner gave his careful reply, they laughed and said, “That’s what a lawyer says, but what is happening on the ground is “if you confess your sins, He is faithful and just to forgive you your sins.” That is what is happening in the community.”
But we need not refer only to such dramatic instances. Examples also exist in much of our mundane current law, which show the leavening influence of Christian teaching, particularly on restorative justice.
One is bankruptcy. Historically, those who could not pay their debts were commonly incarcerated in debtors' prisons until their debts were paid but, of course, imprisoned people find it almost impossible to repay debts, and so were trapped. This practice was made illegal in the U.S. in 1833 and gradually we have moved to a position where, while there may be penalties to prevent recurrent misconduct, the substance is that many debts are forgiven.
Despite their many problems, systems of probation and review of sentences also offer reduced punishments to those who show remorse and change. They too can incorporate forgiveness.
Some proactive changes that could look to both justice and mercy concerns illegal immigration.
Polls consistently show that most Americans want to make the borders secure so that there is no longer a virtually uncontrolled influx of people entering the country. They also want those who have been involved in criminality to be deported expeditiously. However, at the same time, a majority including even the most conservative state they want for those who may have initially entered illegally but have since worked, paid taxes, obeyed laws, and raised families should be forgiven and allowed to stay, perhaps with a penalty not too onerous.
This is an area in which justice and forgiveness can meet.
Let us finish with Shakespeare's Portia, who in The Merchant of Venice (minus lines of which Shakespeare has been accused of antisemitism)., Act 4, Scene I, declares:
The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.