Hurting the ones we love is just hurting a more sensitive part of us.
Revenge and anger won’t get you anywhere though. They just perpetuate the situation that hurt your beloved ones.
If you must destroy them, because doing it will shield the ones you love from harm, do it without hatred. Remember however, that it is egotism that makes us distribute our love unevenly to others.
As for what Christ would do, I think he answered that while on the cross. “Forgive them father, they know not what they are doing”

love
aditya

Love, u have raised some questions which everyone must raise. these questions should be raised then only it is possible to understand justice and forgiveness.

here i will like to quote from The prophet by Khahlil gibran

“On Crime & Punishment
Then one of the judges of the city stood forth and said, “Speak to us of Crime and Punishment.”

And he answered saying:

It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind,

That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.

And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate of the blessed.

Like the ocean is your god-self;

It remains for ever undefiled.

And like the ether it lifts but the winged.

Even like the sun is your god-self;

It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent.

But your god-self does not dwell alone in your being.

Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man,

But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.

And of the man in you would I now speak.

For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the punishment of crime.

Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.

But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,

So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.

And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,

So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.

Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.

You are the way and the wayfarers.

And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.

Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone.

And this also, though the word lie heavy upon your hearts:

The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder,

And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed.

The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the wicked,

And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.

Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured,

And still more often the condemned is the burden-bearer for the guiltless and unblamed.

You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked;

For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread and the white are woven together.

And when the black thread breaks, the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he shall examine the loom also.

If any of you would bring judgment the unfaithful wife,

Let him also weight the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul with measurements.

And let him who would lash the offender look unto the spirit of the offended.

And if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the evil tree, let him see to its roots;

And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.

And you judges who would be just,

What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief in spirit?

What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit?

And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor,

Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged?

And how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds?

Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain serve?

Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty.

Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves.

And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light?

Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self,

And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation. ”

On Laws
Then a lawyer said, “But what of our Laws, master?”

One of my best friends in high school dated and eventually married a man who became the warden over a very special prison in south Texas – the first prison of its kind created in the nation – a prison designed specifically to house children, kids who had committed crimes so heinous that they were tried and convicted as adults, though they were under the age of 18. I once, several years back, went to visit my friend, whom I hadn’t seen in many years. Just about this time, there was a young boy transfered to this prison who was on the front page of every paper – a thirteen-year-old, the youngest person ever to be tried and convicted as an adult in the United States. His crime: he had shot and murdered a man, while in the process of a car-jacking, which was the initiatory rite of a street-gang he was seeking to join. When the shot rang out and the driver of the car dropped to the pavement, there was this young man with a running car sitting wide open before him at a red-light, ready for the taking. It was in that moment that he was faced with the inevitable: he was so young, he didn’t yet know how to drive! He just stood there, frozen, until the police arrived. That was end of his life, as his sentence was so great that there was no way he would ever again see freedom. When I visited my friend, her husband, the warden, took me on a tour of this special prison. He also invited me to meet this young man, face-to-face. I was taken into the warden’s office and offered a comfortable seat. Then, a few moments later, the boy (for that is what he was, a boy, no taller then my shoulders and so skinny I could have easily knocked him off his feet) was brought in, in hand-cuffs, shoved through the door by two huge guards. His head was drooped. He didn’t look up at me once, but only at the floor in front of his feet. “Pull up yer pants there, boy!” grunted one of the guards. “Don’tcha know how t’act in the presence of a lady?” added the other in an equally gruff voice, followed by a jeering laugh. The child was wearing this huge grey uniform, the pants of which were so large that they were falling off of his slender hips. His underwear were showing, but he could do nothing because his hands were cuffed behind his back. About that time, the warden pushed through the door behind them, “He’s so skinny – little drownded rat – we don’t have no pants that will fit him. Sorry ’bout that, Ma’am.” I just nodded my head, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t take my eyes off of the child that stood before me, this little boy standing slump-shouldered, head bowed, between these two burly guards who towered above him. I already knew his history: born and raised in a low-income, inner-city neighborhood; he and his mother abandoned by a father he had never met; his mother a crack addict; only one relative, an aunt, who bothered ever to visit him, and then only once every few months. I thought I would have something to ask him – this was the purpose of the interview. I thought I would have something to say, but whatever had been in my mind before that moment fled instantaneously, washed away completely by the flood of shame with which I was suddenly overcome. Yes, shame. I can’t quite explain it, except to say that in that moment I felt a wave of shame such as I had never felt before in my life: not an individual shame but shame at being a human being, shame at being a human, sitting there in that moment, before this other human who was in such a wretched state, and there being nothing that I could say, and nothing that I could do to take back what had been done to him.

Was it “justice,” as many would have it, that this child was so interred and would never again see the light of freedom? Was it “justice,” the social and personal hell he had been born into as a victim of poverty, drugs and violence? Perhaps he made bad choices, but was he old enough, or prepared enough to face the choices he was required to make: join the gang or be victim of it? Kill or be killed? Fight or die? Did he ask to be born into this neighborhood, this way of life, to these parents, in this uncaring society? He was just a child! A little boy, wearing the prison garb of a grown man twice his size. Was this “justice”? Was this boy the victimizer or the victim? Who were the real criminals in this larger picture?

He is not the only one of his kind, just one among an alarming multitude.

So, no, I don’t believe in “justice” if it is defined as a penal system set up to punish rather than reform. Real justice would be to give this boy, and those like him, a chance in life – the chance they never had.

Sincerely,
Savita Vega

Because it´s easier for me to forgive if I alone had been the one who has suffered, but when I see that the creature I Love most is the one who has also paid … then I feel something within me that I do not know how to name; the only thing I Know is that I would like to get rid of this feeling. Is it anger? A deep sense of anger everytime I see that an unjustice has been commited against someone who is the most vulnerable creature in this world and should have had (should have having) a better Life?

Jesus forgave his enemies. But how could the Virgin forgive the ones who brought Him to the cross?

Did Jesus forgave his enemies because, as He was the one who was being suffering the pain, was easy for Him?

If had been the Virgin the one who was crucified, Would Jesus have been able to bear Her pain? Would have been able to Forgive them? Or would have He feel resentment toward them? Hatred? Anger, deep anger? Frustation,