Time involves a thaw and 'acceptance' and, in Partington's case, luminous words to describe her feelings, to break the silence. It was a year before she could even think of planning a funeral.
She went to the mortuary in Cardiff to hold and wrap her sister's bones. It was then that 'something shifted and I made a step towards peace'. Although brought up as an agnostic, she found herself, in trauma, turning to religious language. Forgiveness seems religious by definition. But David Black, editor of a new book, Psychoanalysis and Religion in the 21st Century, is concerned with the way that religion complicates our sense of forgiveness: 'The Christian church has used forgiveness as if it were easy, as if we could effortlessly forgive those who cause us damage.
Forgiveness is a very long process. It is like a grief process. It is a grievance process. You have to work through rage, hatred and bitterness. Archbishop Tutu agrees. But he argues that holding on to hatred 'locks you in a state of victimhood, making you almost dependent on the perpetrator. It is the best form of self-interest'. But there will always be those for whom forgiveness isn't possible. As Julie Nicholson points out today: 'Forgiveness is complex, not black and white. An absence of forgiveness does not automatically assume a desire for vengeance or an "an eye for an eye" mindset.
Neither does it mean one is consumed with hatred or prevented from 'moving on in life' another phrase that could do with putting under the magnifying glass '. In a comment book at a local church in Northern Ireland where a Forgiveness Project exhibition was held, the father of a murdered Special PC wrote that he felt 'permanent loathing' for the 'evil IRA' who killed his son. In April Camilla Carr, 45, and her boyfriend Jon James, 43, went to Chechnya to set up a rehabilitation centre for traumatised war-children.
Is Anything Unforgivable?
Three months later they were taken hostage by Chechnyan rebels. Their ordeal lasted 14 months, during which Camilla was repeatedly raped by one of her jailers. I will never forgive the act, yet I can forgive the man who raped me; I can feel compassion for him because I understand the desperate place he was coming from. That's not to say I condone what our captors did to us - the physical and psychological abuse was appalling - and if I met them now, I'd want to ask all of them: 'Did you have any idea how much you were harming us?
As soon as we were taken hostage we decided to take the line of least resistance because our four captors were so clearly traumatised by the war. If we'd shown anger they could have reacted with violence. After several weeks one of them - an ignorant and wounded person who we named Paunch - took the opportunity to rape me. The only way I could get through this horror was by thinking to myself, 'You can never touch the essence of me - my body is only part of who I am'.
He raped me many times, but mostly I was able to cling on to this detached state of being. He always did it when he was alone and I didn't dare tell the other captors in case it gave them the idea of gang rape. This went on until I got herpes, which gave me the strength to say no. Paunch asked me to explain why.
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With a dictionary I shakily pointed out, 'No sex, no violence. He said he just wanted to be my friend! In his own way he was apologising. He stopped raping me and instead he would talk about his dreams. We were released in September Initially I seemed to be doing well. We were basking in the euphoria of freedom and love from our family and friends. Then two months later I collapsed. I couldn't stop crying and had no energy.
This lasted a few weeks, but it wasn't until , when Jon and I moved to Wales, that I found the space and silence to let go and surrender to weakness and vulnerability. Only this way could my nervous system finally heal. Some of our Chechnyan friends can't understand how we can forgive. They feel tarnished with the guilt of their community. I tell them that I believe forgiveness begins with understanding, but you have to work through layers to obtain it. First you have to deal with anger, then with tears, and only once you reach the tears are you on the road to finding peace of mind.
After Marie Fatayi-Williams' only son, Anthony, was killed on the No 30 bus in London on 7 July , her call for an end to violence made headlines across the world. A devout Catholic, she lives both in London and Lagos, Nigeria. Her husband is Muslim and they also have two daughters. When I gave that speech just five days after Anthony was killed, I couldn't self-consciously control what was coming out of my mouth.
All I knew was that God Almighty was guiding me as well as Anthony's spirit. I needed to reach out to my son and plead with those who had him to send him back to me. But, somewhere deep in my subconscious, I did have an uneasy feeling that perhaps he was no more, and if this was really the case, then I had to appeal to those out there who had done this or who had masterminded it.
I wanted to say to them: 'Can't you see how deeply hurt I am? Can't you see what you've done to me and all those like me? What good or cause has been served? Perhaps I'm trying to psyche myself not to feel like this, but if so it's because I know that no amount of hatred will bring Anthony back.
Actually I only feel deep sorrow for those who did this and for those who actively seek out blank minds on which to imprint negativity and hatred. At first I didn't want to look at the face of Hasib Hussain, but eventually I did look I wonder sometimes if he meant to blow up the bus, or if at some point he chickened out?
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If so, it means there is hope. I am confident that if he had been asked what cause he was ready to die for, he would not have been able to clearly justify such extreme action. I never believed that I would be a victim of terrorism. Anthony was a peace-loving young man who only ever had love in his heart.
He was never in support of war in any form. This is why I have set up a foundation [ www.
The Paradox of Forgiveness: Forgiving the Unforgivable in: Perspectives on Forgiveness
I can't think of any other way to heal my heart and help others. You need to work hard to achieve peace. It doesn't come on a platter. Together we've got to make, have and give peace. Anthony was my first and only son. He was supposed to be my stay in old age. So now the only way I can carry on and make my two daughters know that life doesn't end with death is to show that you cannot deliver peace by terrorism.
If I could stop just one potential bomber committing a catastrophe because he felt sorry for the pain inflicted on Anthony's mum, realising the senselessness of killing innocent victims, I would bless him and Anthony's death would not have been in vain. While living in Zimbabwe he discovered he was on a hit list. Three months after Nelson Mandela's release from prison [in April ] I received a letter-bomb hidden inside the pages of two religious magazines that had been posted from South Africa.
In the blast I lost both hands and one eye, and had my eardrums shattered. For the first three months I was as helpless as a newborn baby. People have asked me how I survived, and my only answer is that somehow, in the midst of the bombing, I felt that God was present.
I also received so many messages of love and support from around the world that I was able to make my bombing redemptive - to bring life out of death, good out of evil. Quite early on after the bomb I realised that if I was filled with hatred and desire for revenge, I'd be a victim for ever. I chose to forgive him, not because it was easy, but because he needed it and I knew it was what I needed to do. I wanted him to see that even through his biggest mistakes and failures I still loved him just like he would me. That is what family is all about.
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I could not handle seeing his tears or the hurt in his eyes. When my mother finally came home I was very happy to see her, but I was also just as scared as when she had left. I could tell she had missed me too as she walked through the door and tears flowed down her face. I saw love and hurt at the same time. I had never seen my mother like that and it frightened me. The strong woman she had always been seemed so frail and broken. Nevertheless, she told us she was going to try to make it work. I was relieved, but it was not the end of the story, as I had hoped — it was only the beginning.
I watched her cry for months; I saw the pain in her eyes every day. She had to wear waterproof make-up because the tears became a normal, everyday occurrence. Carrying the weight of his betrayal was hard on her until she just let it go. It took years to build their relationship back, but it is even stronger now and they have grown from their experience. My dad treats my mother like a princess, even to this day, as she deserves. He has worked to earn her love and trust since the day she came home.
Seeing my mom go through this taught me so much about forgiveness. I cannot imagine the pain of being betrayed by the one person she loved and trusted with all her heart. To have that completely torn apart, but be strong enough to start over and rebuild that trust takes a special person.
My mom taught me how strong forgiveness really is by her actions. Skip to Main Content Area. Watch our trailers! In order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent. All rights reserved. More stories from our partners.