Today I present at the annual domestic violence conference sponsored by the 16th Circuit Court Faith Watch Committee. In the mystical Jewish tradition each day of the counting of the omer has a unique quality. Today’s quality is tiferet of gevurah. These words are not easy to render into English. Beauty in discipline. Compassion in discipline. Or crown of strength. Yesterday was gevurah of gevurah. Strength of strength.

I’ve been thinking about that as I prepare my materials. I am helping the participants study texts about forgiveness. Forgiveness is frequently a stumbling block of healing from domestic violence. Forgiveness is not forgetting. Forgiveness involves letting go of some of the anger. Forgiveness does not happen all at once, but slowly over time. Forgiveness is not always possible nor is it always necessary. However, our religious traditions, almost all of them, require it. Or do they?

Are there any situations where forgiveness is not possible?

In order to prepare today’s materials I read more again about domestic violence and forgiveness. I read across Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. Sometimes the reading took me out of my comfort zone. Sometimes I wanted to scream. I needed to remember that like Judaism there is a range of opinion on forgiveness in each of the traditions I was researching.

In addition to my work on domestic violence I am reading Gated Grief about GIs who liberated concentration camps and On the Way to War. Too much trauma. Too much destruction. Too much anger. Too much silence. Very little forgiveness. In light of the Holocaust and other genocides, how can there be forgiveness?

Forgiveness takes strength. It takes compassion. It takes discipline. Forgiveness is healing, slowly over time. But only when the survivor of domestic violence or the Holocaust or a war is ready. Only if they feel safe. Only on their terms.