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Let Us Learn to Forgive by Brett Krichiver, Student Rabbi When I was in college, I had a roommate who stole $400 from me. If I polled this room, I bet that each of us has a story about a roommate or a friend or a family member like this. Mine is a story of anger and frustration. We have all been frustrated with those we love; it is the nature of relationships that they don't always go smoothly. Just as often, we hurt the people closest to us, our friends and our families. Knowingly or not, our actions can be hurtful and selfish As a child we are taught that we must say we're sorry. Yom Kippur comes around each year, and we learn that in order to be forgiven by God, we first need to be forgiven by those whom we have harmed during the year. One of the greatest moments for Jewish ethics, Yom Kippur has become a time for clearing our conscience, making right all of the wrongs we were responsible for. But there is a more complicated, more adult theme for Rosh Hashanah. The flip side of Teshuvah, asking to be forgiven, is the act of forgiving others. As a child we may not understand exactly what this means. If someone hurts me, why should I forgive them? As adults we understand that it is harmful to carry around our negative feelings. Something about the act of forgiving others is actually good for us! As we strive toward peace in our own hearts, we can let go of the anger and pain we feel. We can forgive those who have harmed us for our own sake, and not for theirs. For some of us, it is no longer possible to make peace directly with those whom we need to forgive. Perhaps they are gone from our lives; perhaps they simply do not, or cannot have those conversations with us. By forgiving them in our hearts, we bring peace to ourselves; we remove the obstacles that keep us from growing. This is a bit easier said than done! How do we go about the task of forgiving others? Must we test them, to make sure they're actually sorry? Or do we accept their Teshuvah on faith, and bring ourselves the welcome relief of forgiveness? In the Torah portion for this week, Joseph's journey is about to end. He sits on Pharaoh's mighty throne, doling out the grain that he ordered the Egyptians to store in preparation for this very famine. Peasant after peasant arrives, gratefully accepting his portion, and offering praises to the mighty Joseph who has saved them all. Not a bad ending for the story, actually. Until who arrives at Joseph's feet but the very family he was running away from. Joseph has all but forgotten his painful past; the wounds have almost healed. In fact, Joseph has named his first-born son Manasseh, which means: God has made me forget the hardship of my father's house. The subtext is clear - Joseph seems happy in his new life, far from the brothers who hated him, but he has stored up hatred like Egyptian grain. His own son will be a constant reminder to him of that which he is trying to forget - the pain of his past. With his new haircut and new clothes, he feels far away from the Israelite who spent two long years in jail while his beloved father wept. His child's name belies the pain he feels. Like each of us, Joseph has learned how to live with his pain. Until his brothers arrive on his doorstep, unannounced. When I discovered that my college roommate had stolen from me, I was furious. He and I had been extremely close, I considered him a good friend. How could I have misunderstood our relationship? How could he have abused my trust so easily? I eventually moved out, and it took us over a year to begin to talk about what had happened. Even then, he would not, or could not, admit it to me. It took me an even longer time to understand that he was in pain, to understand how he had deliberately thrown away my friendship because of his own history, his own struggle. Once I began to understand his actions, the anger I felt was replaced by a great sadness. I felt like I had experienced a loss perhaps the loss of trust, or the loss of his friendship, I don't know. Several years later, I ran into my roommate at a local store. He pretended like nothing had happened, but to be honest, I was not prepared for the anger I felt. The time gone by had not soothed the animosity I felt. In fact, I was even more upset! How do we deal with the pain we have tried to forget, when it comes crashing into our lives? Forgiving those who have hurt us can seem like an impossible task, and yet, living with hurt and frustration can be equally impossible. And so Joseph deals harshly with his brothers, he calls them spies, and he locks them in a cell for three days. Who can blame him? When we first encounter someone who has caused us pain, our response is often anger. After the three days have passed, Joseph listens to his brothers talking, and in their words he hears their true repentance. And Joseph cries. Joseph's tears remind us all that although time may pass we carry our pain with us, until we begin the process of healing, of forgiving. In the biblical story, it takes Joseph several more months to reveal himself to his long-lost family. There is no magical test that can show us how to forgive. No formula that makes the pain go away. In the end, there is simply the decision we make, when we start to let go of our burdens. In our lives, who is it that needs to hear our forgiveness? What hurt have we stored away? Perhaps it is simply the small miscommunications of a spouse, or the resentment of a parent or a child. We know that these pains only build up with time. We can each take the opportunity today to begin the process. We can clean house in our own heart. This is the message of forgiveness on Yom Kippur, but it doesn't need to wait that long. The vast chamber grows silent. The pain on Joseph's face is visible to all. He has seen how much his brothers have changed, and he struggles to find the words. With a deep breath he begins to speak. Your brother, who you hated enough to kill, who you abandoned to the desert sand, is me. For many long years I have hated you - I have prayed that you too, might be lost in the storms of the desert. And now, here I am, standing before you. See what has become of me! Joseph's journey from his father's house is one of pain and misery that most of us cannot relate to. His brothers' hatred, his long, dark sojourn in prison - this is pain that hopefully few of us will ever feel. But let us understand the meaning behind the story. We all long for ways to forgive, we strive towards full, complete relationships. Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, and his forgiveness is complete. When I think about my old college roommate, I know he may never hear how upset I was. But at some point I understood that his pain was a burden to me, and that I could choose to let it go. Joseph forgives his brothers, and his life becomes more complete. We read this story each year, perhaps this year we will take it to heart. Perhaps this will be a new year for us and our families. Let us learn not only how to ask for forgiveness, but also, and more importantly, how to forgive the people in our lives. Let us not wait for years to pass, let us not even wait for Yom Kippur. Let us begin today. |