E

lton John was not totally right when he composed '€œSorry Seems to be the Hardest Word'€. Far more difficult than asking for an apology is forgiving someone who has offended, hurt or even tried to kill you.

If saying sorry can get you far, forgiving others will take you much farther.

Nelson Mandela, the late South African leader and one of the greatest statesmen who ever lived, knew the power of forgiveness.

On the eve of Idul Fitri last week, a cable TV channel screened the movie Invictus, which showed how forgiveness helped unite a nation that had once been divided into groups defined by the color of their skins and also by the type of sports each group played.

In the movie, Mandela, played eloquently and convincingly by Morgan Freeman, was quick to forgive his enemies who had incarcerated him for 27 years, after he was elected president of a new democratic post-apartheid South Africa in 1994.

Mandela recruited a bunch of white secret servicemen against the advice of his personal black guards and he invited the white staffers who had served the previous white president to stay on to work for him.

Mandela then mobilized the entire nation to support the Springboks, the national rugby team, when the majority of black South Africans had loathed them because they were symbolic of the whites'€™ apartheid sports. The Springboks went on to win the World Cup in 1995 in South Africa, with the whole nation cheering them.

'€œForgiveness liberates the soul. That is why it is such a powerful weapon,'€ Mandela said, explaining his decision to accommodate the whites.

Watching the film helped me better understand the meaning of Idul Fitri, when the spirit of forgiveness should prevail as we ask for forgiveness from others and forgive others, irrespective of whether they had asked for it or not.

I was privy to a rare display of the spirit of forgiveness when Irshad Manji, the Canadian author and scholar much vilified by conservative Muslims, arrived in Jakarta to promote her book, Allah, Liberty and Love, in 2012. A Muslim
and a lesbian, she had earned the wrath of many religious conservatives for her earlier book, The Trouble with Islam Today.

I shared a panel with her during the book discussion, but the event was abruptly stopped because protesters had gathered outside. Just as everyone in the room was cursing the protesters, Manji told the audience, '€œWe should forgive them'€.

I was impressed at her ability to forgive so quickly those who had come to hurt her. (Later in Yogyakarta, her book event there was violently disrupted and her traveling companion sustained an arm injury).

What evoked even more admiration in me was seeing an appearance by Elizabeth Diana on television in March, the same day she buried her 19-year-old daughter Ade Sara, in which she said she had forgiven the killers.

Two of Ade'€™s friends, with whom she had gone to the Java Jazz Festival, are in police custody for the murder. Their mothers had quietly gone to see Elizabeth after her TV appearance and the three of them had a good cry together.

It must be hard to show love and compassion to your enemies, but Nelson, Irshad and Elizabeth showed it can be done.

If forgiving is to become habitual, I guess it takes a lot of practice.

I had one opportunity to practice when I went on umrah, the off-season Muslim pilgrimage to Saudi Arabia, this year. Throughout the journey our spiritual guide kept extolling to us the virtue of patience, humility and forgiveness.

I had my first test when I went to shop for Muslim attire in a market a few hundred meters from the Nabawi Mosque in Medina. To cut a long story short, I was cheated by the shopkeeper. Back in the hotel room, when I realized what had happened, I decided to forgive him there and then, instead of going back to confront him. I was proud of my achievement. I passed the test.

But I have failed many tests since, including when I lost my temper when a bunch of Iranian pilgrims tried to cut into the immigration line as we were flying out of King Abdulaziz International Airport.
I was not even out of the Holy Land.

Once back in Jakarta, whenever I am behind the wheel patience, humility and forgiveness go out the window. Each time someone cuts in front of me, I curse like hell.

Indeed, forgiving others is more difficult than saying sorry, but I promise I won'€™t give up trying, even when I am driving.

'€” Endy Bayuni