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October 3, 2008
Forgiveness
Why it is sometimes so difficult
Phil Jacobs
Executive Editor
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Rabbi Yitzhak said: “Whoever offends his neighbor with words must placate him with words.” Rabbi Yosi Ben Chanina said: “One who asks pardon of his neighbor needs to do so more than three times.” As Jacob said in a message to Joseph, “Please forgive the offense of your brothers, please, who treated you so harshly. Therefore, please forgive the offense of the servants of the God of your father.” And if (the offended party) had died, he (the one seeking forgiveness) should bring 10 people and have them stand by his grave and say: “I have sinned against the Lord, the God of Israel and against this one, whom I have hurt.”
“If we can meet this challenge concerning the people closest to us, the living and the dead, and, indeed, in terms of ourselves; if we can heal old wounds and forgive old hurts, then we will in fact become new people: more open, more loving, and more confident, as we step forward into this New Year.
— from Rabbi Mitchell Wohlberg’s 2001 Yom Kippur Yizkor sermon.
Joan Kristall sees this time of year in perhaps a way to which we can all relate.
We’ve all been served notice that on Yom Kippur, it’s time to report to the “principal’s office.” You kind of know that something isn’t quite right. There’s something that needs fixing.
This principal that Ms. Kristall, an area licensed social worker in private practice, refers to is benevolent, loving and wants the best for me.
“I’m still in awe of that principal,” she said. “The principal is up there above and beyond me, but the principal is on my side, and that makes it all seem less scary.”
She said that if it’s less scary, then a Jew can look at some places in his life that aren’t so pretty, because he is taking that look with someone who wants to be instructive instead of destructive.
“Yom Kippur,” she said, “isn’t about beating myself up. Instead, it’s about honing in on some not-so-pretty places where I did some not-so-great things. This is an effort to do better in the coming year.”
Of course, part of that effort to do better comes in the not-so-simple action of asking a friend or a relative for forgiveness.
Seems like we all know stories of parents and children who haven’t spoken in years. There are friends who so want to pick up the phone and call, but they can’t seem to do it.
Rabbi Mitchell Wohlberg, spiritual leader of Pikesville’s Beth Tfiloh Congregation, said it is often good to start by writing a letter to the other person. He advises not to use e-mail, but to sit down and do it the old-fashioned way. That letter, he said, could lead to a phone call.
In that letter, the rabbi suggests that a person simply write, “A new year is coming, and I’d like to put the past behind us. I’m going to call you, and I hope we can talk.” He said it’s not a matter of right or wrong at this point; now it’s a matter of moving ahead in the coming year.
Rabbi Wohlberg suggests that those involved in the dispute may not even spend much time talking about what did or didn’t happen. But the sooner the process is started, the better. He said he has seen too many situations where a person with genuine intentions has prepared and waited and prepared some more, only to learn that the very friend or relative they need to contact has died.
“You will feel better by moving on with one another,” he said. “You can still say I’m sorry because something happened. But at this stage, who cares who is right or who is wrong? Usually all it takes is a willingness to say that I’m sorry.”
He added that the person who forgives will feel better.
The following are some more stories of forgiveness from members of the local Jewish community. They vary widely in subject matter but are united in one theme: Making amends is worth the effort. As we approach the Day of Atonement, reconsider the reconciliation you have been putting off. Act upon it and you will be glad you did.
Gail Lipsitz, Jewish Community Services
Years ago in another place, I had a neighbor who suddenly stopped speaking to me and my husband. We did not know why.
After a few days of this behavior, we asked what was wrong. The supposed “offense” that she told us we had committed was an act of fate that we were not responsible for. It was clear that she had a need to blame someone, and we were handy.
(In many such cases, the person blamed doesn’t even know what his or her supposed offense was because the angry person doesn’t communicate that.)
We did not feel we could apologize for something we had not done.
We pointed this out, and let her know we would like to put the matter behind us, but she held on to her anger for the next two years and did not speak to us all that time.
What struck me was:
• What hard work it must have been to maintain this silence and carry around this anger.
• How I reacted:
It was almost laughable, except that it was so sad and unnecessary. Had it been a close friend or relative, it would have been much more painful.
It was awkward. It went against my grain to walk out of my house at the same time she did, go to my car, and not say anything.
Sometimes a “good morning” or “hi” would just slip out of me, or I would experiment to see if she might have changed her mind, but she never responded.
Finally, I gave up and just ignored her, but it was still awkward. I wondered whether she would help us out if we were in trouble, like calling the gas company if there were a leak and we weren’t home.
I knew if the situation were reversed, I would do that for her.
My interpretation of what happened:
She had painted herself into a corner, taken a position, and either just got tired or was not ready to let go of the anger. Sometimes we imprison ourselves in our “shoulds.” Perhaps it is a relief to be given an opportunity to end a stalemate without losing face.
Can you forgive someone — or be forgiven for — something that person didn’t really do? Sometimes a perceived slight is as real as an actual one — certainly when it affects relationships. You can’t have a healthy relationship, whether with a neighbor or loved one, if you can’t let go of anger and blame.
What’s more important: proving you are right or salvaging the relationship? Sometimes you just have to agree to turn the page and start anew.
Dr. Ed Leventhal, Urologist
For me, the biggest one would be my relationship with a relative.
It wasn’t so much a matter of asking for forgiveness as it was me letting my anger go over the situation in question. We had a falling out over how he was taking advantage of my mother financially because she does not have the capacity to say no.
For me (and not just in this case but in some others as well) the most important step is in forgiving them in my own mind and letting go of the situation so that it no longer breeds ill will. Whether we officially reconcile, to me, is almost moot. It is my bad feelings over being angry and “hating,” if you will, that are self-destructive.
Once I get to that point, I can look at the issue objectively. What I mean by that is that I can try to search out the issue and find what I think the message from God is for me.
I have come to the belief (Chasidic, I think) that all of these interactions and my feelings about them are given to me as a message that there is something in the interaction for me to learn.
I’ll give you a different example. Someone has done some very, very unethical things to me and to my practice over the course of the last five years. I was (and still am, to some degree) struggling with the concept of how I can fulfill the obligation to love every Jew when I have this jerk trying to destroy my business.
I spoke to a Chabad rabbi when I was in Ocean City in the summer. He brought out a simple point that gave me a lot of insight. I should look at this guy as a tzadik (righteous person).
But in truth, I should have known better. My income is determined by God yearly from Rosh Hashanah to the next new year. What the guy who tried to hurt me does is moot.
When you take your kid to the doctor and he gets a shot, the kid thinks the shot is evil. But as the parent you know that actually it is in his best interest.
For in the long run I should know deep down inside that it is for my best interest that God is putting me in the position I am.
God has a way of reminding me that I am not in control and that I’ll get what He plans for me.
While it hasn’t made it easy to love this particular person, it has helped me grow as a person, accept with graciousness something that was really negatively affecting me and reminded me of how little in control of my life I really am.
Glenn Carr, community activist
There was an elderly, distinguished man in our synagogue who was widowed for four years when this incident occurred. Yakov (not his real name) was a very successful retired and wealthy builder, who was the catalyst behind our Jewish day school and a big donor to our community hospital.
He had a soft spot for children, but also had a quick temper, was extremely sensitive, stubborn. He and I were also gabbais at our synagogue.
It was in late July 1995, and (my daughter) Susanna was diagnosed with autism the week before. She would have some sleepless nights, where she would uncontrollably laugh and run around. I got very little sleep because of that and from simply worrying about everything. I’m usually in shul at 9 a.m.
This Shabbos, I walked in shul in the middle of the Shema about 45 minutes later than usually with about three hours sleep, feeling like something that the cat just dragged in. I am a zombie, walking by everyone going to my seat. It is also the Shema, so I am careful not to disturb anyone.
My elder friend and mentor Yakov was insulted. His feelings were hurt because I walked by him and did not shake his hand and greet him “Good Shabbos.” For the next couple of weeks, he was very cold toward me, having very little to say. I asked him what was wrong, and he simply said “Nothing.”
After three weeks, I approached a good friend from our synagogue who was close to his age and asked “What is wrong with Yakov? He doesn’t speak to me.” My friend told me in confidence that Yakov was hurt that I walked by him that Shabbos last month without saying hello. He even spoke about leaving the shul if I continued as a gabbai.
I was initially shocked and hurt. On top of dealing with a newly diagnosed child with autism, a person who I loved and admired was angry at me and not speaking to me. I then thought that he is widowed and deeply loved his wife. If his wife were alive, she would have told him that he was wrong to react that way, and the hurt feelings would have lasted a few hours rather than four weeks.
I decided to take the high road, and I got on the phone and called him. I told him, “If there was anything that I did to hurt your feelings, please forgive me as it was unintentional.” In our conversation, I explained about my sleep deprivation, the problems that I was dealing with, and the fact that I walked in during the Shema. He never apologized, but accepted my apology and our friendship continued.
About two years later, his great-grandson in Israel was diagnosed with autism, which led to the breakup of his granddaughter’s marriage. He had a deep appreciation for how my wife and I were raising Susanna. One year, he paid for her summer camp. He also made a generous donation to an autism fund-raiser that I was participating in.
This past February, he celebrated what we thought was his 90th birthday. (He was actually 92.) I solicited several friends to pitch in for a Kiddush in honor of his special birthday. He spoke to the congregation, expressing his gratitude, and claimed that he hoped that he served the synagogue well.
He was very happy. That was his last time in the synagogue. Three weeks later, he died.
A family story by a journalist
It’s difficult to tell this story.
But I’ll tell it, because the lesson of forgiveness really came from action, not exclusively through words.
When I was a teenager growing up here in Baltimore, my father commuted each day to a furniture store he managed in Annapolis. Back then, it was widely held in retail that sales forces worked late two nights a week, Mondays and Thursdays.
Some days, he would call my mother and I, and say he had decided to stay overnight in Annapolis, sleeping in the bedding department of his store.
My mother was ill. She was suffering from multiple sclerosis and was pretty disabled. My father was a handsome, striking man with a quick, smart sense of humor. His lead salesperson was an attractive, flirty woman with an outgoing personality. So, as they say out there, “You do the math.”
Pretty soon, my father would stay in Annapolis if snow was forecast for the next day, or there would be “car trouble.” He was having an affair.
When he was home, my mother and father would have such terrible screaming battles that I hid my head under the pillow of my bed.
My dad was taking me to the train station during my senior year of high school. I was going to spend Christmas break with my sister in New York. I needed a break. I don’t know where it came from, but I asked my father to pull his car over right next to Druid Hill Park on the way to the station. I asked him simply, “Are you having an affair with Joan [the name of the saleslady]?”
He told me in a straight, concerned face, “Yes, I am.”
The rest was a blur except that he told me how proud he was of me that he could tell me this.
I told my sister. And we told my mother that her worst fears were true. She had suspected this.
And somehow, without a therapist, a counselor or a rabbi, Mom and Dad went off as individuals on a cruise to Greece. And they came back as a couple again.
My mother’s MS worsened, however, and then she would go on to break a hip, and then suffer a stroke.
Her most personal hygienic needs were taken care of by my dad. If they were in a public mall and she needed a restroom, he didn’t care, he’d take her into the ladies’ room. He stayed up with her night after night while she asked God to take her life and put an end to this misery.
He fed her, bathed her, literally carried her. The thing is, I don’t know if she ever really forgave him for the affair.
During this time, there was something else neglected. My father put his own health on hold to take care of my mother. He feared that if I knew what he knew, that if a doctor knew what he knew, then there would be nobody who could take care of my mother like he could. And that guilt literally killed him.
He neglected every early sign of colon cancer. And by the time my mother died in October of 1984, he was in full-blown cancer. He would die, almost to the day she died, one year later.
I don’t know if anyone was forgiven.
And I ask forgiveness for one last part of this story to this very day. It is the one part of Yizkor that holds me up like cement encasing my feet.
When my mother died, because she died of stomach cancer and complications of multiple sclerosis and a stroke, her team of physicians asked my family if we would donate her body to research.
We did.
To this day, I don’t have a place to go to see my mother before Yom Kippur. She was cremated along with others who were donated to science.
Yes, it’s a noble cause. No, I don’t feel noble. I feel guilt, terrible guilt.
And I will be asking my mother for forgiveness as long as I can breathe.
There is no feeling on Earth that describes the word “hollow” than not having that chance to say to a person you love, “Would you forgive me?”
An Educator
Like most people I know, I try to lead my life in a way that will result in very few obligations to apologize. That is to say, I try to be fair, just, caring and respectful to my fellow human beings.
This having been said, there are of course times when an apology becomes necessary, and one such time remains indelibly inscribed in my memory and on my neshamah.
When my second son was a junior at Columbia University, he found himself unable to concentrate on his studies. His honor roll status was certainly jeopardized, but far worse than that, he felt he was not benefiting from a superb educational experience, and in addition, was wasting his mother’s hard-earned money. He told me that he had decided to drop out of school, temporarily, and assured me that he would return as soon as he “felt ready” to resume his studies.
I am sorry to say that I did not support this decision. I was fearful that he would not return to school, that he would never complete his education. Despite my objections, he left Columbia. We were not entirely estranged during this period, but our communication was remote and rare. He did return the next semester, completed college and proved that I had been wrong in every way. Of course, time healed all wounds, but I wasn’t able to make a long overdue apology to my son until I realized that I owed him an “I’m sorry,” not just because he was right and I was wrong, but because he is my son. I love him and my suspension of faith in his judgment will haunt me always.
Divorced Mom
You have to drop your own ego. When you can drop your own ego, you can admit that you aren’t always right.
Sometimes forgiveness is a process; it’s not immediate. Part of the process is eternal healing. The process has to include an honest look at one’s self. You have to move toward appreciating that the person might have done the best they could and maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and look at the other person from a different point of view.
There are different time frames for forgiveness for everyone.
This mother of two told about the time her son was preparing for his wedding.
Her ex-husband had not been good about making his child support payments on time, causing her a great deal of financial strife. Also her ex didn’t have much of a relationship with his children.
His minimal involvement impacted her son. He did not want his father to escort him down the aisle during the wedding ceremony. This, according to the mom, devastated her ex.
“It broke my ex-husband. So I spoke to my son and to my rabbi and we determined that my son needed to re-accept his father and move on with his life. And me, I had to swallow my pride.
“I needed to understand that this wasn’t about me, but about my child, who needed to heal. From that point on, my ex and I rebuilt our relationship.
My ex walked down the aisle with our son, and that was how the healing process started.”
To this day, the ex-husband has kept in better touch with his children, and he sends now whatever money he can regularly, even though his children are now adults.
Relatives Who Reappeared
“Many years ago, I got divorced,” writes this Baltimore community leader. “My ex-husband has some relatives to whom I always felt very close.
“After the divorce, they disappeared from my life. I wasn’t sure how to interpret the abrupt fissure, especially since there were also relationships with children involved. I missed them and felt hurt that they cut me off so sharply.
“A year or two later,” she continued “during the High Holiday period, I wrote these relatives a letter, asking whether they could forgive me for the drama of the divorce and whether we could re-establish our relationship. When we spoke after they read my letter, they confessed that they were not sure how to proceed in this situation. They just didn’t want to seem disloyal to my ex-husband.
“Many years have passed since then. Our children have had the opportunity to grow up with the children of these relatives. We restored our original close relationship and made it stronger over the years. They are now among my most treasured ‘family members.’”
Paula Rome, retired businesswoman
I had never thought about the concept of forgiveness until a dear friend read an article in a magazine some years ago. She was all excited about this notion of how good it feels to forgive, how bad it feels not to forgive; how much energy it takes not to forgive. She was sharing it with me, and asking me if there was someone I had never forgiven.
In fact, there was.
When I got back from vacation, I did pick up the phone and called the person and asked the person if we could get together.
I had seen her three weeks before. It tore at my heartstrings to see her. Once I got my head around this concept of forgiveness, it was a natural thing to do to call her.
She was someone who had worked for me. I felt like a mother toward her. She was very loyal, talented and wonderful. One day I realized that she was working for someone else while she was working for me. I was crushed. I told her to leave. I never got over it, and years passed.
After I started thinking about how bad I felt it was wonderful to pick up the phone and make the date and have the conversation. There were lots of tears. She felt better and I felt better. We’re still friends. It was a meaningful thing for me.
My heart was beating, and I didn’t know how she would respond. I was anxious about how her response would be. She was forthcoming about feeling desperate and anxious about finances.
I don’t know if I’d be even more forgiving at the time of the event. It was strained at first, but by the end of lunch, we were hugging one another. It was as if it never happened.
Everything my friend had told me she had read was right. I felt a weight had been lifted and an ugliness out of my life. I do like things to be positive.
Nothing is forever, and you can change things if you want to, and similarly if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.
But there was also an experience I had that still won’t go forgiven. It involved another person hurting my late husband 35 years ago. That person called me and asked for forgiveness, but I couldn’t accept it.
It feels better to be positive. It’s like a big ugly thing you drag around when you are angry.
I think it only works when you care about the person ultimately.
Myra Hettleman, JCS Social Worker
“I think certainly a spiritual grappling with the meaning of the holiday can be a real motivation for people,” said Myra Hettleman, a Jewish Community Services social worker. “It is hard to be the first one to reach out. It doesn’t always work. It often reminds us life is short and fragile; if we don’t do it now, forgiveness might not be possible.
Ms. Hettleman said that sometimes a person has to force themselves to pick up the phone. She added that it doesn’t hurt to go over a game plan or role-play a conversation with a spouse, a good friend or a therapist. Part of that preparation should be facing rejection.
“Starting sentences with an “I” message instead of, “You insulted me last Pesach,” she said, or “I was really hurt when…”
It increases chances of hearing information emphatically instead of critically.
Also, she said that in terms of changing others, “We can’t change others, what it comes down to is changing ourselves.” Focusing on the positive is important. What did we love about that person?
“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned it’s in every family,” she said. “When it happens, it is just so painful. It’s more prevalent than we wish it would be.”
Jeremy Staiman, Graphic Designer
My little brother had the champagne cork and I wanted it back. So, in the outdoor courtyard of our small-town shul, I jumped on his back and started pounding away, in yet another vain attempt to beat him up. My grandfather had witnessed this run-of-the-mill display of sibling rivalry and approached me shortly thereafter. With his customary soft-spoken manner, he gently asked, “And what if you really hurt him?”
Even though this confrontation took place close to 40 years ago, his words still ring in my ears. And what if I really hurt him? I didn’t, and I’m sure my brother has no memory of the incident.
But my grandfather’s message, delivered with love, concern and in the softest of manners, made a lasting impression on me. Perhaps above all it was the tone in which he spoke which still haunts my conscience. His name was Aaron, whose biblical forebear was legendary for his peacemaking skills. It’s no shock that my grandfather Aaron named his first-born Shalom, and that this son also has been a potent force for peacemaking over the years.
It is the memory of this lesson which has emboldened me on more than one occasion to leave my comfort zone and get into other people’s business to restore peace.
One effort involved two parties I’ll call Teacher and Parent. Teacher also happened to be a rabbi, who had felt insulted on numerous occasions by Parent’s brusk manner. Parent felt that Teacher was way out of line, too sensitive. They attended the same shul, so they crossed paths often. The tension in the air was palpable.
Approaching Parent and Teacher privately and one at a time, I told them that I wanted to help smooth things out. Stating that I knew that their preference was to get along and that I realize that they themselves only wanted peace (who could argue with that?), I then listened carefully, letting them talk, vent and, occasionally, rant. They both wanted to be heard, and each was convinced that right was on his side. The shuttle diplomacy which ensued involved communicating some of their complaints –– real or perceived –– to the other, always couching those issues in the softest possible manner so as not to offend the other party. In the end, both of them said they would be willing to get past their differences if only the other would initiate the encounter.
Then Parent saw Teacher in shul and took some steps toward him. Before either of them knew it, they were locked in an emotional embrace.
I wish I could tell you that they restored their friendship to its former level and lived happily ever after. But this is the real world, and an article about real experiences, so I must tell you that there was no Disney ending. On the other hand, nor was there a tragic one. They stayed civil, perhaps with a cold peace between them.
Many ingredients come into play in making peace. Here are a few which come to mind:
1. Usually, one must set aside his ego by apologizing or making the first move. Even if he feels he’s not really wrong.
2. Think of the big picture. Years from now, if you’re still not talking to your sister, parent, neighbor or friend, won’t you be sorry you let it go on?
3. Be calm and be sincere. Try to reach the other person through soft words. You’ll find they penetrate far better than loud protestations.
4. Present as a given that all parties want to get along and get past whatever issues they have.
5. Listen; don’t argue.
6. Remember that other factors may be coloring the other people’s judgment.
7. Know when to hold and know when to fold. If there’s obstinacy on the other person’s part, try a different tactic at a different time.
8. Finally, a little prayer can go a long way.