Brooklyn, New York, is an enormous religious melting pot, and a couple of weeks ago, I went to hear an interfaith panel discuss the subject of prayer. Someone brought up the idea of forgiveness, and what I heard was surprising. One speaker started by telling how a particular group's strong, unselfish stand for forgiveness had brought peace to the community, which had been torn apart by violence and strife. But the others on the panel rejected the importance of forgiveness.

One woman declared there are many things that cannot be forgiven—ever. Another speaker felt it was immoral to ask anyone who was oppressed to forgive the oppressor. The final speaker agreed, saying that an emphasis on forgiveness would undermine the road to justice.

When the discussion started, I had expected everyone would agree that forgiveness is a virtue—something to aim for. I knew that countless people have been horribly harmed in ways that are hard to imagine, and that forgiveness can seem impossible. But I thought there would be agreement among Muslims, Jews, and Christians that forgiving is an essential element to healing, to social progress, to restoring one's life. Yet the representatives from all three groups strongly objected to the idea.

So I've been asking myself a number of questions. What does forgiveness really mean? Are forgiveness and justice incompatible? Why is there such opposition to forgiveness? Does forgiveness mean that people who do evil things are let off the hook?

Whole books could be written on these questions, and they have been. My own answers are still evolving. At the moment, forgiveness means to me that I'm not going to hold a grudge; I'm not going to be controlled by anger or resentment; I'm not going to enter into the evildoers' mindset and respond in kind. I will pray for people to recover their ability to do what's right. I will pray for them to become conscious enough of their evil actions to turn from them with regret sufficient enough to bring about genuine repentance and reform. I will pray to know that the power of God at work in man and woman is infinitely greater than the so-called forces of evil. I will strive to know that good is supreme in the hearts and minds of all. I will insist that the real man and woman are the work of God—and that this can be proved.

This, to me, is how one can obey the command to love one's enemies and bless those that curse and despitefully use one, as Jesus taught (see Matt. 5:44). This is the kind of prayer that keeps one from being caught up in the cycle of evil. It supports the operation of divine justice and gives a glimpse into how everyone can experience God's forgiveness.

Without a doubt, justice is essential. But forgiveness doesn't block justice or let an evildoer off the hook or promote passive submission to evil. Mary Baker Eddy gave much thought to this subject and made this point in "Love your enemies," an article appearing in her book Miscellaneous Writings 1883–1896, "Hate no one; for hatred is a plague-spot that spreads its virus and kills at last. If indulged, it masters us; brings suffering upon suffering to its possessor, throughout time and beyond the grave. If you have been badly wronged, forgive and forget: God will recompense this wrong, and punish, more severely than you could, him who has striven to injure you" (p. 12).

Forgiveness releases us from the hold of sin, removes its grief and scars from our lives, and helps us realize that nothing has cut us off from God's presence and care. It affirms that sin cannot deprive anyone of their connection to God, or obscure their God-given identity. The operation of divine justice can be trusted to cause people ultimately to part finally and forever from wrongdoing.

As the answers to my questions continue to evolve, it's growing clearer that forgiveness doesn't let anyone off the hook. It doesn't allow evil to spread further. It forwards divine justice. Forgiveness is an essential act for those who value worldwide healing and progress.