The Science of…Forgiveness?
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry United Methodist Church November 9, 2025.
Texts: Leviticus 19:1-2, 18; Ephesians 4:25-32
One of the core teachings of our faith shows up in Leviticus of all places: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy… You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge… but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
And then Paul echoes it in his letter to the Ephesians: “Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger… be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”
These teachings about forgiveness are deeply spiritual. But over the last decade, science has been catching up to something our faith has been saying for centuries: forgiveness is not only spiritually wise, it is physically, emotionally, and mentally healing.
Recently, researchers studying the psychology of revenge noticed something striking. They found that when we experience anger, resentment, or the desire to get someone back, our brains release chemicals that can actually give the brain a temporary “high.”
You know how it feels when someone cuts you off in traffic? And then—by Providence or coincidence—you end up side-by-side with them at the next light. And you have that moment: Do I do it back?
James Kimmel, a researcher at the Yale School of Medicine, says that moment is not just emotional. Something chemical is happening. Our brains light up. The area of the brain associated with pleasure, reward, and addiction releases dopamine. The same circuitry involved in opioid and stimulant addiction.
Kimmel calls this “the high of revenge.” He says: “Your brain on revenge looks like your brain on drugs.” And the problem is — like any high — it doesn't last. So we chase it. We rehearse the wound. We re-live the story. We re-feel the injury. We keep the resentment alive because resentment gives us a momentary sense of power—a hit, a rush—a feeling that “I am not powerless. I can strike back.”
Even if we never act on revenge physically, the fantasy itself can become addictive.
Which is exactly why Scripture warns: “Do not take vengeance or bear a grudge.”
Not because God is trying to control our feelings—but because God knows what grudges do to us.
And Paul’s admonition to “Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger… and forgive one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” is not moral scolding. It’s not “be nice.” This is God trying to get us free. Because holding a grudge doesn’t trap the other person. It traps us.
And this is where our faith and neuroscience meet: The Greek word for forgiveness is aphesis (ἄφεσις)—which means release, letting go, unbinding. To be forgiven is to be released from the guilt and shame that bind us. To forgive someone else is to release ourselves from being tied to the injury, the resentment, the wound.
Kimmel says something profound: ‘Forgiveness is a practice. You can imagine thinking of a grievance right now in your mind, and now just imagine how you would feel if you decided to forgive it. Normally, when I ask that question of people, they'll respond, well, if I decide to forgive it, gee, I would feel better. Now, that might only last for a few moments. But with forgiveness, you can do that again and again and again, as often as you like. Forgiveness is a practice. Do it again. And again. And again. Like breath. Like prayer. Like faith. Not a one-time miracle—but a way of living.
So while we tend to think forgiveness is something we do for the other person, more often than not, forgiveness is something God does in us—so that we can be free.
The benefits of forgiveness aren’t only emotional or spiritual. The Mayo Clinic lists the benefits of practicing forgiveness:
• Less anxiety
• Lower blood pressure
• Better sleep
• Healthier relationships
• Stronger immune function
• More hope, more peace
Forgiveness—this spiritual practice we often think is too hard, too much to ask—is actually one of the most powerful acts of self-healing we can choose.
And notice—none of the research says forgiveness means forgetting. It does not say forgiveness means excusing the harm. It absolutely does not say forgiveness means we must reconcile with someone who continues to cause harm. Forgiveness is not pretending nothing happened. Forgiveness is not calling evil “good.” Forgiveness is not the same as justice.
Forgiveness is release. It is letting go of the resentment that poisons our own hearts. It is loosening the knot inside us that keeps us bound to the injury. It is stepping out of captivity. Which makes the Christian witness to forgiveness so powerful.
Because the forgiveness Jesus proclaims begins—intentionally, shockingly—in Jerusalem. Luke tells us in Luke 24:47 that “…repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.”
John Wesley once pointed out that this is where Jesus was betrayed, abandoned, condemned, mocked, and executed. Jerusalem is where the worst was done to him. So why begin the proclamation of forgiveness there? Because that’s where forgiveness is needed the most. Because that’s where the chains of guilt were the heaviest. Because if forgiveness can begin there—then forgiveness can begin anywhere.
Even here. Even now. Even for us.
And this is where we meet the hardest question: Who do you need to forgive?
Most of us don’t struggle with forgiving small slights. It’s the deep wounds—the betrayals, the abandonments, the abuses—that sit heavy.
Some of us here are carrying things that happened decades ago.
Some of us are living with pain from parents, partners, children, friends.
Some of us have been wounded by churches.
Some of us are angry at institutions or systems that have inflicted harm.
Some of us haven’t forgiven ourselves.
Forgiveness does not happen all at once. It is not a switch you flip. It is a practice—a posture—a journey. The Mayo Clinic describes forgiveness as: “a commitment to change… a process that may need to be revisited again and again.”
Our faith teaches the same thing. Paul says: “Be renewed.” Not once. Continually.
“Put away bitterness.” Not once. Practiced daily. Forgiveness is something we grow into—by grace.
And this is why Jesus promises the Holy Spirit. Because forgiveness—real forgiveness—is too hard to do alone. But with God’s help, forgiveness can become a miracle of new life. //
There is another part to this sermon.
Jesus doesn’t only call us to forgive. Jesus calls us to receive forgiveness. Some of us are carrying guilt we don’t know how to set down. Some of us believe mercy is for others, but not for us. Some of us pray for forgiveness but never feel like we’ve earned it. And maybe this is where the science helps us too. Because guilt and shame also keep the body locked in stress—frozen, constricted, afraid.
To receive forgiveness is to be released. Unbound. Set free to live in a new way. This is why we proclaim God’s mercy. Not judgment. Not condemnation. But mercy. It is not too late. You have not gone too far. God has forgiveness for you.
So here is the invitation today: If you need forgiveness, turn toward the God who is already running toward you. Let the Spirit loosen the grip of guilt inside you. You do not need to punish yourself to be worthy of love and mercy.
And if you need to forgive, start where you are. Name the wound. Ask for help. Practice release—bit by bit. Let forgiveness be a gift God works in you, not something you have to force.
And in time—whether slowly or suddenly—a burden will lift, peace will return, your heart will breathe again. Because forgiveness—this ancient spiritual practice—this holy command—this miracle of grace—is not just good theology. It is healing on every level. It is freedom. It is life. Amen.
