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Jewish World Review Oct. 6, 2000 /7 Elul, 5761
http://www.jewishworldreview.com --
ON THE EVE of Yom Kippur, I am thinking about which is more difficult: to ask forgiveness, or to forgive.
It’s not as simple as it appears.
The beauty of this, the holiest day of the year, is its power to allow us to cleanse our souls and begin
anew. It is at once a responsibility and a precious gift of our religion, this notion that we can make a clean
slate of our lives by reflecting on our sins and shortcomings, repenting for them sincerely, and coming
away from Yom Kippur feeling a burden has been lifted from our souls.
But our tradition instructs that for all our fervent prayers in the synagogue from the dusk of Kol Nidre to
the following evening’s Ne’ilah prayer, G-d only forgives us for sins we have committed, in effect, against
Him. Those transgressions against our fellow man require a personal request for forgiveness, which leads
me to my opening question.
Asking forgiveness would seem to be more difficult. It requires us to humble ourselves sufficiently to
approach the person we have wronged — a family member, friend, or colleague. That may be the
toughest part of all, working up the nerve to confront someone we know we have dealt with improperly,
whether or not he or she is aware of it. Then we must explain the wrongdoing and ask for exoneration.
According to tradition, if the person is not willing to forgive us, we ask a second time, and then a third. If
the answer is still “no,” we have done our best.
But why would someone turn us down three times, especially if he or she saw that we were sincere in our
remorse? Perhaps because when we have been sinned against — through a cruel or thoughtless action or
verbal attack — we feel the pain too deeply to let it go. It seems too easy — and at the same time
incredibly difficult — to simply say “I forgive you” and let the matter be over.
Just this week I received an e-mail from a colleague across the country I know only slightly. He asked for
permission to reprint an article, then added: “And by the way, forgive me if I’ve wronged you this
year…”
I don’t know that he has, but if he had, I would think his e-mailed request was more of a casual cop-out
than a genuine appeal.
When people have truly hurt us, we want to extract at least a bit of discomfort from them before easing
their conscience by forgiving them. Maybe G-d can wipe the slate clean with no hard feelings — indeed,
we pray G-d does — but for us mortals, is it asking too much?
I’ve thought a good deal about the two sides of forgiveness in recent months. In my writing and reporting
this past year, I have been both praised highly and criticized severely, often for the same articles. In the
most dramatic example, some people credited me for bringing an appalling situation to light; others
accused me of seeking to embarrass an individual, his family, and the highly respected organization he
helped lead, and for attempting to diminish its good works.
I’ve learned that sometimes a journalist trying to serve a community can at once fulfill his professional,
and even communal, responsibility and still, as a direct result, bring pain on individuals. For that, I am
truly sorry, and I still grapple with how to do my job without causing undue hurt.
On the other hand, and to be equally honest, I find myself licking my own wounds at times, still frustrated
that I have been censured in some quarters for what I see as doing my job. And I find it difficult to
forgive those who have ascribed malevolent motives to my work (not that they’ve asked to be forgiven).
From all this I am reminded once again of the power of the pen, and the countless and unforeseen levels
of impact a word or phrase can have, for good or for bad. I have also come to empathize with the
frustration of those who feel they have been wronged in some way and have no recourse to set the
record straight. I am reminded of the government official who, after being publicly humiliated in the press
for apparent wrongdoing, was later exonerated, and asked, “Now where do I go to get my reputation
back?”
Especially in such cases, the ability to forgive requires great inner strength and equanimity — and
someone to ask for forgiveness.
The young hero of the sweet new Cameron Crowe film, “Almost Perfect,” is a teenage journalist setting
out to cover the rock music culture, and specifically, a band he greatly admires. His mentor, a brilliant,
uncompromising older journalist, advises, “be honest and unmerciful.”
It’s good advice, but for a Jewish journalist there’s the added dimension of covering the community and
people he loves, always struggling to find the proper balance between objectivity and compassion. It’s a
dilemma I suspect will never be resolved completely.
In the meantime, I look forward to the new year, and the ongoing effort to report on Jewish life with
honesty, and a dose of
mercy.
On forgiveness and forgiving
By Gary Rosenblatt
JWR contributor Gary Rosenblatt is editor and publisher of the
New York Jewish Week. Comment on this article by clicking here.
