Erika Kirk speaks at the memorial of her husband, Charlie Kirk. Courtesy | Turning Point USA

“That young man … I forgive him,”  Erika Kirk said. 

In a powerful speech before 90,000 people, Charlie Kirk’s widow forgave the young man accused of killing her husband. 

No one would have blamed Erika Kirk had she chosen to stay silent at the memorial service on Sept. 21. Her husband had been dead, and their children fatherless, for 11 days. Many in the audience may have expected her to swear vengeance, not offer forgiveness.

But Erika Kirk forgave: a choice more striking than any we’ve seen from right or left in recent years. We have the option to either follow the example of Kirk — and her God — or continue the self-destructive spiral of retaliation that has become the standard in American public life. The option we choose will dictate the future of our nation.

In her mercy, Kirk exemplifies a magnanimity we are unaccustomed to seeing, especially in such a public setting. More often than not, cultural commentators speak bitterly about those with whom they disagree. Politicians attempt to use the law against rivals to exact revenge as well as justice. Even in day-to-day life, we take the actions of one person to fuel, often unjustly, our dislike for whole groups. 

Gradually, we become conditioned to see mercy as weakness — as antithetical to justice and strength, our national values under this presidency. Erika Kirk is our reminder that this view is mistaken: that mercy heightens strength and justice, and is necessary for either to function properly. 

Standing before a crowded stadium, Kirk fought through tears to say aloud what most could not even say within their hearts.

“The answer to hate is not hate,” Kirk said. “The answer we know from the gospel is love, and always love.”

An unforgiving “justice” will tear us apart, personally and nationally. The saying goes, “An eye for an eye makes the world go blind.” As hard as it must have been for Kirk to forgive her husband’s murderer — and to continue to do so, daily — she restored sight to herself and her family, as well as all those who followed in her example. 

Kirk’s speech offers her country a turning point. The entrenchment of both sides in equally deep echo chambers has rendered the culture war stale. Bitterness in political discourse is the norm. Even at Hillsdale, it’s all too easy to adopt an us-versus-them attitude toward life, assuming moral superiority for oneself. The ceaseless and futile fighting is making no one happy — gleeful, perhaps, but not happy. 

Forgiveness comes at a cost, as anyone watching Kirk’s face that day could see. But we need it badly. The vision of American life our forefathers imagined is impossible without friendship and goodwill. For that, we must become merciful. 

Hillsdale forms us for the outside world. We would be remiss if we did not spend these four years practicing mercy where it feels the most demanding: after disagreements, misunderstandings, and betrayals. 

As George Eliot once wrote, “The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts.” May we learn mercy from Erika Kirk’s historic act so that our unhistoric acts may be merciful.

Caroline Kurt is a senior studying English.