On Forgiveness
When Yom Kippur asks us to forgive others, what about forgiving ourselves? Why is that the more painful act?
Can I forgive myself for being a tender person in a very, cruel, cold world? Can I forgive myself for carrying shame for being labeled as ‘too sensitive’?
Can I forgive myself when my daughter is angry with me for accidentally getting water on the sink or when I can’t join her field trip because I have too many meetings or when I am late for pick-up?
Can I forgive myself when I snap at a friend who kept me waiting, even though it wasn’t her fault?
Can I be gentle with myself when I hit a low point on the dreadful days when Yaron and Sarah were killed in D.C and when Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Alexander, Almog, and Ori were murdered in Gaza (and all of the innocent lives taken on Oct.7)?
Can I forgive myself for not being able to parallel park?
Can I forgive myself for not having a book published, even though I imagined I would have by now?
Can I forgive myself for not always being able to keep plans?
Can I forgive myself for avoiding some social situations because of my anxiety?
Can I forgive myself for not wanting to have any more dialogues about Israel with others because it’s too hard now?
Can I forgive myself when I get discouraged and struggle to move forward?
Can I forgive myself for being buried by anxiety and for being unsure how to be myself at times?
I am not sure if I can.
I am not sure if it’s asking too much of myself- or others.
What I do know is that this broken, fractured, painful world needs all the love we can muster for ourselves- and for others. On this Yom Kippur, while practicing forgiveness for others, may we give that same tender grace to ourselves.
May we remind ourselves that we can always, always, return to the wholeness in our hearts.
And maybe, just maybe, we can find a small crack to let the stillness softly in. And may that be enough.
