Tears everywhere-streaming down my cheeks, trickling onto my corduroys, smeared on the back of my hand. There in the chapel, with the softly strumming guitar and the flickering candlelight, it all came out: all that pent-up emotion, all the anger and denial and the deep, mournful hurt. Slowly, it engulfed my heart and spread through my nerves, tingling my fingertips. I pushed out a resounding breath, whispering with it that one powerful word that had changed my entire being: forgiveness.

In that moment during a recent weekend retreat, I felt completely liberated. All of the stress and resentment I had brought with me had suddenly been lifted from my spirit. Yes, it had been difficult to channel my anger. But instead of dwelling on my festering pain, I focused on my desire to heal. So I let go of it. And without the pain, without the anger, I realized how much beauty and joy had been stifled by my grudges. Incredibly cheesy, but incredibly real.

This amazing clarity of mind lasted through the weekend, and as we crammed into the busses for the ride back to Saint Louis University, I anticipated a renewed patience and enthusiasm in all my relationships. I couldn’t wait to spread my new-found wisdom of forgiveness to everyone, both friends and strangers. Call me a bleeding heart or just naive, but I had a phenomenon to spread-to a world that was stuck on revenge.

Cold, cruel revenge: it permeates the United States of America. Just look at the rash of senseless shootings that has spread across the country in the last decade. From suburbs to inner cities to rural farming communities, confused and desperate people of all ages have taken up firearms to get back at the world for any and every grievance. Several disgruntled postal workers, upset with the conditions of their job, have returned to the post office spraying bullets. Racist gunmen have terrorized Jewish and Hispanic communities to retaliate against the “infiltration” of immigrants in the country. Perhaps most shocking is the school-shooting saga, where teenagers traumatized by taunting and bullying have exploded in angry sprees of violence.

Of course we denounce these moments of horror as irrational and unjust. Revenge of this breed is simply unacceptable. Such a misguided person doesn’t value human life: what a menace to society and an unfortunate example of human weakness. Wherever did they learn this idea of murder as a proper response to a problem?

We feel baffled by such savage ire, but how do we as a society respond to offenses? With the same calculated revenge-institutionalized as capital punishment. In Missouri especially, we cling to the death penalty as the cure-all to violent crime. Sure, with multiple lengthy appeals, it costs more to taxpayers than a sentence of life in prison. With incompetent or inexperienced public defenders, it often discriminates against poor, mentally-challenged minorities. And with no compelling evidence to link the variables, it fails to deter crime. But oh, how the death penalty satisfies that desire for vengeance.

Can we really marvel at these unexpected instances of vicious revenge when we sanction that same revenge as part of our legal framework? Until we can cultivate a society of forgiveness instead of a society of retribution, we can only expect more of these brutal episodes.

Yes, that’s an easy commitment for me to make. I revel in the comfort of forgiveness, those warm fuzzies of optimism that I experienced on my retreat. Gratefully, too, I am blessed never to have lost a family member, friend or even an acquaintance to violent crime. I might be willing to forgive a death-row inmate, but why should the victims?

This dilemma, the step from retaliation to rebuilding, is the focus of the Missouri Journey of Hope. The speaking group is crossing our state with the testimonies of individuals who have lost loved ones to murder. They stop on our campus tonight at 7 p.m. in the Saint Louis Room of the Busch Memorial Center.

Assuredly, they will evoke plenty of tears, but hopefully they will also inspire questions and provoke our spirit of forgiveness. The three speakers, George White and Lois and Ken Robinson, will share their tragic stories and their attempts to heal. These courageous victims have realized that vengeance is not the answer to their pain, that alternatives to the death penalty are better than perpetuating the cycle of violence.

I challenge our University to fill the Saint Louis Room tonight with open hearts and minds. We owe it to the brave men and women from the Journey of Hope to listen without prejudice and maybe even to reconsider our position on the death penalty. Here is our opportunity to rekindle a sense of forgiveness in our SLU community and our society at large.