Did Homer, the author of The Iliad, not the TV character, get it right when he wrote, “Revenge is sweeter far than flowing honey?”
Yes, he did. That is, if we’re talking about getting even for petty toe-stepping acts like inadvertently tracking on a competitor’s territory only to have him proclaim, “That’s justice,” when he nabs one of our own precious clients.
But like honey, the taste soon dissipates and then the avenger is left with the same old bitter taste in his sour mouth as he sulks through his days wondering why the rest of the world doesn’t get it that he deserves to win all the time.
Perhaps Shakespeare got it right when he wrote, “If you prick us . . . do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”
Yes, he did. That is, if you subscribe to the notion of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But only until we realize that, as Gandhi once said, “An eye for an eye that would make the whole world blind.”
The notion of revenge is hard for us to grasp because we are wired to believe in the principles of justice. Even our high courts use the scale as a powerful image of weighing appropriate punishment to fit the weight of the crime.
But ask any surviving family member of a deceased accident victim if five years behind bars is enough to make up for the lost experiences, celebrations, and joys of a lost life, and they will tell you, “There is no justice. Nothing could make up for the lost life of my loved one.”
When popular NAIT instructor Graham Miller was killed while riding his motorcycle from work on November 9, 2011, the driver of the car who accidentally struck him was fined $115. Shortly thereafter, close friends expressed their true feelings that the small fine hardly sounds just.
They are right. With serious crimes and accidents, restored balance breaks down. How much retribution and what kind of retribution could ever redress the huge loss felt by a grieving family? There is none. Revenge becomes a silent and impotent tool in our war chest against the predicament of irreversibility.
Worse yet, revenge can worsen our situation. It was Confucius who wrote, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
So that leaves us with an ethical conundrum. If justice fails to make things right, then how can any of us find peace with damaged lives and lost opportunities that can never be redressed even by acts of forceful revenge?
The answer lies not in ethics. Ethics, like revenge, becomes a silent and impotent tool. Forgiveness however, has the power to restore our peace. Forgiveness is neither an ethic nor a principle. Forgiveness is a participation by grace in universal love, love for our lost friend and love for the individual who caused the accident.
Forgiveness will not leave us all blind or toothless nor leave a bitter aftertaste in our mouths. Forgiveness will not result in the digging of two graves. Forgiveness will liberate us from the heavy weight of hatred and confusion and stop the perpetual swing of unfulfilled longing to get even.
Forgiveness elevates even higher the dignity of the victim and extends an olive branch of understanding to the person who caused the loss to occur. So if we want justice, let’s reach for an elevated justice instead. A justice that says some things are beyond our understanding but by our own free will, we can rise up to a higher level of ideals more sublime.
And let’s leave the ethics of revenge to the lower plains of human decision-making. Perhaps Marilyn Monroe got it right when she said, “Gorgeous hair is the best revenge,” and leave it at that.
Sharon Ryan lives in St. Albert and teaches ethics for UCLA extension and has really nice hair. [email protected]
