Forgiveness Sermon Dec 07

Two disclaimers, before I go any further:

1. Gratefully, I set a self-imposed deadline for this sharing. I say this because my research and reflection to this point only skim the surface of what exists and what I hope to address in the future ... but this phase of the journey needed some closure, at least for me.

2. I have purposely made this an impersonal presentation on forgiveness; there are lots of stories about forgiveness and me that could be shared (don't we all have something to contribute?) but I chose a more objective and analytical path for this sermon

So – first things first. How do we define forgiveness?

Forgiveness is the mental, and/or spiritual process of ceasing to feel resentment, indignation or anger against another person for a perceived offense, difference or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution[1]. This definition, however, is subject to much philosophical critique. Forgiveness may be considered simply in terms of the person who forgives, in terms of the person forgiven and/or in terms of the relationship between the forgiver and the person forgiven. In some contexts, it may be granted without any expectation of compensation, and without any response on the part of the offender (for example, one may forgive a person who is dead). In practical terms, it may be necessary for the offender to offer some form of acknowledgment, apology, and/or restitution, or even just ask for forgiveness, in order for the wronged person to believe they are able to forgive.[1]

In Jewish parlance, there are three Hebrew synonyms: "Selichah" "Mechilah" and "Kapparah" all related to the idea of "forgiveness."

SELICHA - usually translated as "forgiveness" is the first step which must be taken if someone has committed a sin, whether it be against G-d or against man. To ask for forgiveness is to say to the "injured" party, "I am sorry for what I did; I sincerely regret having done it, and I will never do it again." The appropriate response to this request is to believe that the petitioner is sincere and "open the door" for him or her to "come in." A person who refuses to do this is considered a cruel person.

MECHILAH - usually translated as "wiping away" is the response to the request "Can we put our relationship back on the level which it was on before I sinned against you?" A positive response to this is difficult, but within the G-dly powers given the human being, and is required.

KAPPARAH - usually translated as "atonement" as in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. This is the response to the person who says, "My conscience will not let me live with myself, because of what I did to you and to our relationship." To respond positively to this is beyond human capacity. It is only G-d who can reach inside a person and say "Be comforted."

"Kapparah" is the climax of this three-part process, and is accomplished on Yom Kippur.

In Judaism, if a person harms one, but then sincerely and honestly apologizes to the wronged individual and tries to rectify the wrong, the wronged individual is religiously required to grant forgiveness:

"It is forbidden to be obdurate and not allow yourself to be appeased. On the contrary, one should be easily pacified and find it difficult to become angry. When asked by an offender for forgiveness, one should forgive with a sincere mind and a willing spirit. . . forgiveness is natural to the seed of Israel." (Mishneh Torah, Teshuvah 2:10)

But if the wrongdoer does not apologize, there is no religious obligation to grant forgiveness.[12] This is because Judaism is focused on the personal responsibility of the wrongdoer. It is the wrongdoer's responsibility to recognize their wrongdoing and to seek forgiveness from those who have been harmed.

A Jew may, however, forgive if they choose even if the offender has not apologized:

If one who has been wronged by another does not wish to rebuke or speak to the offender — because the offender is simple or confused — then if he sincerely forgives him, neither bearing him ill-will nor administering a reprimand, he acts according to the standard of the pious. (Deot 6:9)

Indeed, forgiveness does not come cheaply in Jewish tradition, nor is it viewed as the primary mitzvah as some of our Christian friends make it. For in order for Jews to reach the threshold of guilt, we must navigate and maneuver around two lofty towers: GUILT and SELF-PRESERVATION.

GUILT has been characterized to be "as Jewish as bagels and lox."

Barb North, in a recent column entitled All Roads Lead to God, writes:

I was born Jewish and raised Catholic... which is a lot of guilt. And different guilt. Catholic Guilt: Everything you enjoy is a sin. And Jewish Guilt: Everything you enjoy will hurt your mother.

But whether or not Jews have cornered the market on it, many contend guilt need not be such torture.

"Despite the ethnic caricature brought about by guilt, it's not meant to be debilitating. It's meant to be a trigger for change or betterment," says Rabbi Lavey Derby of Congregation Kol Shofar in Tiburon.

"Guilt is an emotional, psychological and spiritual response to having acted in an incorrect way or to having done something that is wrong."

The authors of the Torah knew that. They devoted seven sections of the Book of Leviticus entirely to ritual sacrifices geared toward ridding a person, or even an entire community, of guilt.

Rabbi Ari Kahn suggests that guilt plays an important role in the word choices of Joseph in our parsha:

Despite Yosef's various sincere attempts at reconciliation, there is one thing we find lacking in Yosef's words. He never says, "I forgive you". Rather, he speaks of God having a plan and he and the brothers being players in that plan - but he never offers his forgiveness, and perhaps it was the absence of the forgiveness which frightened the brothers, and caused them never to feel completely comfortable with Yosef.

Rabbenu Bachya cites the famous teaching that the ten martyrs are seen as a recompense for the sale of Yosef. This theme is found in the Midrash and has entered into the liturgy of Yom Kippur. Rabbenu Bachya asks why there were ten martyrs, if only nine brothers were involved in the sale. Binyamin was at home, Yosef was a victim, and Reuven left prior to the sale. He suggests that Yosef had some responsibility for his own plight, having caused the enmity at home, and therefore atonement for his sins is exacted by the death of a martyr. Alternatively he suggests that Reuven accounts for the tenth martyr, as a punishment for Reuven's own peccadillo.

Perhaps we can suggest a different answer: Yosef himself was the tenth protagonist because he never forgave his brothers completely. He, too, bore guilt. Had he managed to control himself longer, perhaps he would have been able to arrive at a point of complete reconciliation. Yet we see that the brothers and Yosef lived in Egypt together many more years, and, tragically, they remained afraid of him. Scars from the sale remained, unhealed, and later generations experienced the wrath of those unhealed scars of an incomplete family.