I once watched a re-enactment of the debate over the Final Solution in Nazi Germany. Believe it or not, there were a few detractors within that wretched regime, even while officials were secretly planning the Holocaust behind closed doors. And from one of them came a story that to this day has been etched into my mind. It went something like this:
"There was once a man who loved one parent and hated the other. The man would talk about his beloved parent with much affection, but for his hated parent he reserved only scorn. Then one day, his loved parent passed away, and to his surprise, he could not find the emotion for even a single tear. Shortly thereafter, his hated parent passed away, and at the funeral he cried as he never had before in his life."
So, vengeance or forgiveness? This is a question that haunts each and every one of us, in ways that we do not even realize. Do we devote our lives to punishing others for what they have done to us, or do we move on, and focus on positive self-improvement? The difference between the two is often murky at best. I've personally spent years of my life working on improving certain skills, only to face the realization one day that they serve me no real purpose other than to get back at those who I've an unspoken and unacknowledged grievance with. And with that realization, the carnal, frenetic, and consuming wrath that fueled my obsessive devotion to my supposed betterment evaporates, leaving me with a sense of freedom, uncertainty, and fatigue. And so I'm left to wonder how much of my own life I've secretly devoted to vengeance, as opposed to meaningful and fruitful activities.
I suppose that, for me at least, it comes down to which is greater: one's need to see justice, or one's desire for self-preservation. Because we're all in the same boat together on this tiny Earth, and that boat will either sink or sail depending on our actions as a people. Some of us are poking holes in the boat, because they'd rather drown themselves than see their enemies live, while others are working feverishly to keep the boat afloat, because they would rather survive than watch their enemies perish.
As for the story: I continuously ask myself why and how the man's emotions were able to take on a life of their own. What did he learn that remains hidden from me? All I can say with certainty is that nothing can prepare us for the vast uncertainty that is death, which is probably as it should be, for with such knowledge comes a responsibility that most of us (myself included) are not ready for.
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