To Forgive Is Divine, and Human: The Bilateral Obligation of Forgiveness
It is abundantly clear that the halakhic view places great import on influencing the individual’s interaction with others in society. The relationship of man to his fellow stands as a formidable component of any Jew’s spiritual record, an irreplaceable element of one’s overall standing. It is thus not surprising that any reckoning of one’s religious status is considered incomplete if lacking a thorough analysis of this interaction, along with whatever methods are necessary to rectify any aberrations or disturbances that may arise within this context.
The Foundation: The Obligation to Ask Forgiveness
The Talmud introduces this concept clearly in the course of a discussion of the laws of Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement effects forgiveness for all transgressions, under the appropriate circumstances and accompanying devices. Nonetheless, we are told: “Sins that are between man and God, Yom Kippur atones for them; Sins that are between man and his fellow, Yom Kippur will not atone until he appeases his fellow (Yoma 85b).”
This notion, the imperative to attain mechilah, forgiveness, from an aggrieved party, is more innovative than it may initially seem. While impositions upon the rights of others constitute a significant portion of prohibited behaviors, the necessity to beg the pardon of the victim is by no means obvious. It might equally have been assumed that just as God issued commands as to the behavior of one individual toward another, He, too, serves as the aggrieved party Who must forgive when these commands are trod upon. The very fact that this role is placed in the hands of the human being reflects profoundly upon the halakhic recognition of the individual as an independent entity, presiding over the circumstances of his standing with others and of theirs with him.
Through this reality the oppressor becomes subject to the mercy of his victim, the expiation of his sins contingent upon the good graces of those who have suffered at his hands. The Pri Megadim (Mishbetzotz Zahav, OC 606)explains that the control of the offended party extends beyond the damage incurred to him personally. The Talmud’s statement that interpersonal violations are not atoned for without mechilah is absolute; even to the extent that these same actions are to be considered for whatever reason an affront against God, He, too, will not grant His pardon prior to the attainment of that of the aggrieved person.
R. Shmuel Germaizin (quoted in Pri Chadash) puts forward a more extended version of this position; every transgression against man by definition contains an aspect of rebellion against God. Attaining the forgiveness of man is a prerequisite to being excused for the offense against God present in every sin. This formulation goes further in dealing not only with multileveled transgressions, as does the Pri Megadim, but also by identifying two elements automatically in every interpersonal wrongdoing. Moreover, the Vilna Gaon and others claim that no transgressions at all are forgiven until forgiveness is asked of offended people.
Thus, the acquisition of mechilah fulfills a vital goal, the securing of a pardon from the party empowered to grant it. However, it seems that the actual role of the request for forgiveness encompasses more than this. While the consent of the aggrieved individual is indispensable for spiritual housekeeping, indications exist that additional elements are present in the necessity of appeasing the offended.
The Problem of Unrequested Forgiveness and the Focus on Process
Were a waiver of claims the only goal of the process, it would follow that if the victim would forgive of his own initiative, without waiting for his oppressor to seek his pardon, the latter gesture would become redundant. Nonetheless, many authorities who concern themselves with this issue indicate that a request for forgiveness is necessary even if the other party has already excused the offense. R. Binyamin Yehoshua Zilber (Az Nidberu 14:30), among others, maintains that the obligation to seek mechilah is operative regardless. However, R. Yehoshua Ehrenberg (Responsa D’var Yehoshua 5:20) is inclined to believe that unrequested forgiveness is enough.
A story related by the Talmud (Yoma 87b) is cited by those who agree with R. Zilber as support for their position. Rav had been offended by a certain butcher, and, following the passage of some time, they had still not reconciled. As Yom Kippur was approaching, Rav took pains to make himself available to the butcher so that the latter may apologize. R. Yitzchak Blazer (Kohkvei Or 5) observes that in doing so, Rav was engaging in a form of imitatio Dei, as God also brings Himself closer to facilitate repentance during the Ten Days of Penitence between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
That aside, the very necessity of accessibility on the part of Rav is troubling; as he is clearly prepared to forgive and forget, there should be no need for the butcher to ask. It seems, then, that the act of apologizing is integral to the forgiveness granted on Yom Kippur. Similarly, R. Eliezer Ginsberg (V’Atah B’Rachamekha HaRabim, Hilkhot Teshuvah 2:9) writes that the mechilah would be ineffectual, lacking genuine penitence on the part of the sinner.
Interestingly, while forgiveness without the formality of the request is apparently insufficient, a case for the reverse circumstance is found in the writings of R. Shlomo Luria (Yam shel Shlomo, Yoma 8:21). His discussion centers on a traditional procedure of appeasement, which involved the guilty individual standing before the congregation and declaring, “I have sinned against God and against this man.” The confession for the offenses against God, preceding that for the crime against man, seems premature; it has already been established that Heavenly forgiveness comes only after human forgiveness. R. Luria suggests that once the offender has shown his willingness to beg the absolution of his victim and commenced the process, even though he has not actually received the pardon of the wronged individual, God’s reprieve is forthcoming.
More so, even if the attempt at forgiveness is not successful, some authorities feel that the effort is sufficient. The Pri Chadash (Orach Chayyim 606:1) explains in this manner the fact that the offender is not obligated to make his application more than three times. The existence of an exemption after a certain point indicates that the process is more the concern than the result.
The element of subordination in the seeking of forgiveness comes into play as well in considering the issue of the effectiveness of a request for mechilah carried out by a third party. R. Baruch Rakovsky (Birkat Avot, 62) notes that the lack of confrontation results in a limited sense of submission, and to that effect cites the Derekh HaMelekh as discouraging such a practice; although the Yefei Mareh allows it, cited approvingly by the Matteh Moshe and skeptically by the Pri Chadash. The Pele Yo’etz, however, does warn against letting the stigma of embarrassment deter one from seeking mechilah, allowing that a messenger or a letter are preferable alternatives to bypassing this requirement.
This concern about the limitations of indirect communication finds striking contemporary relevance. As Sherry Turkle observes in Alone Together, “Technology makes it easy to blur the line between confession and apology, easy to lose sight of what an apology is, not only because online spaces offer themselves as ‘cheap’ alternatives to confronting other people but because we may come to the challenge of an apology already feeling disconnected from other people.” Two students articulate this precisely: “Texting an apology is really impersonal. You can’t hear their voice. They could be sarcastic, and you wouldn’t know… It’s harder to say ‘Sorry’ than text it, and if you’re the one receiving the apology, you know it’s hard for the person to say ‘Sorry.’ But that is what helps you forgive the person—that they’re saying it in person, that they actually have the guts to actually want to apologize.” The ancient concern about maintaining the element of submission and genuine encounter in forgiveness processes proves remarkably prescient in our digital age.
Another concept drawing relevance from this idea is that cited by the Gaon of Vilna (Biur HaGra, Orach Chayyim 606) in the name of the Midrash Tanchuma: “If he has gone to appease him, and the latter has not accepted, what should he do? R. Shmuel says, Let him bring ten individuals, and form a line, and say to them, there was a quarrel between me and my friend, and I tried to appease him, and he did not accept… and God will see that he lowered himself, and he will have compassion.” Here, too, the embarrassment experienced by this public confession is integral to the atonement. R. Yosef Chaim ben Eliyahu (Ben Ish Chai, Ki Tavo 2:17) questions whether it is necessary that the ten be men, as is required for communal prayer, or perhaps women are equally effective. R. Yechiel Michel Epstein (Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chayyim 606:3), however, understands the role of the minyan differently; the purpose is to evoke the Divine presence, and thus to encourage forgiveness.
This notion of personal redemption through the process of apology may also explain a difficult phrase in the Rama (Orach Chayyim 606:1). After recording the admonition to an offended individual not to cruelly refuse forgiveness, the Rama adds that mechilah “may be withheld if it is for the good of the sinner.” The meaning behind this is suggested by R. Yisrael Meir Kagan (Mishnah Berurah 606:9): the more the oppressor finds it necessary to appeal for absolution, the greater his sense of submission and thus, his atonement. Arukh HaSHulchan, however, notes that such an attitude is more theoretically noted than practically recommended. R. Mordechai Eliyahu in his Bein Adam L’Chaveiro (p. 40) recommends that even in such an instance, the offended party should forgive the offender in his heart, only maintaining an outward appearance of rigidity.
The Ultimate Goal of Reconciliation
In any case, it might be suggested that an additional function is contained within the imperative of seeking mechilah, beyond the sense of submission that accompanies the ordeal. Even after an individual who has suffered at the hands of another forgives his oppressor, the scars of the offense remain. It is comparable to one who has incurred physical injury and pardons his attacker; although the assailant receives his absolution, the painful effects of his violence are left in full force. The imperative of seeking mechilah is as much the appeasement as the forgiveness. It is possible for the latter to exist without the former; the emphasis on process as well as result is to ensure that both are obtained. Thus, the Shulchan Arukh rules that an unsuccessful attempt at reconciliation must be followed by a second, and then a third; and, as the commentators on the Shulchan Arukh observe, each time employing a different method of self-ingratiation, earnestly attempting to find the one that succeeds.
Apparently, this, too, is a prerequisite for achieving atonement on Yom Kippur, that harmonious relationships among men must resume, that strife and discord be eliminated. This idea is explicit in the Pirkei D’Rav Eliezer, where it is stated that at the time of Yom Kippur, Samael argues for the defense of Israel, noting their similarity to the ministering angels. Among the comparisons is “What is true of angels? There is peace between them, so too Israel.” This argument is so compelling that God forgives the Jewish people their sins. R. Yechiel Michel Epstein identifies this idea as being behind the practice of asking mechilah, the conduit to peace. The Midrash states similarly: “Great is peace, for at a time when the Jewish people are united, even if they have worshipped idols, God forgives them.”
In this spirit, Rashi notes that a show of reconciliation is as valuable as expressing the forgiveness: “If he hugged him and kissed him, there is no mechilah greater than this.” However, absent some such display, some verbal forgiveness must be expressed.
This notion is similarly manifest in a homiletic observation of R. Moshe Sofer. Addressing his followers between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, he commented, “In the time when the Beit HaMikdash stood, we do not find that there was an obligation for every Jew to seek mechilah from his friend on the eve of Yom Kippur. For the nature of the sacrifices is to bring closer the hearts of men, and to make peace among them on their own.”
R. Baruch Leizerofsky (Responsa Ta’am Baruch 21) notes the difference of expression that is found in various talmudic sources; in one, the process of attaining mechilah is called a “request”; in another, it is “appeasement.” These two descriptions appear to address specifically the twin goals of the process: the seeking of absolution and the bringing about of reconciliation.
If the goal of asking mechilah is more reconciliation than a technical release of claims, it may follow that in determining the need for a request, the focus is more on the disturbance of interpersonal equilibrium than on the act of transgression itself. The Rambam (Hilkhot Teshuvah 2:9), in discussing the imperative of mechilah, includes theft among the offenses necessitating such action. However, elsewhere in his code (Hilkhot Chovel U’Mazik 5:1), he comments about such a person who has damaged the property of another: “Once he has paid the damages, he is forgiven.” The implication is that no request is necessary. R. Avraham De Boton (Lechem Mishneh, ad loc.) suggests that the distinction is due to the fact that theft benefits the perpetrator, while damaging property does not; thus, the former offense is more of a deliberate affront while the latter, technically a crime, is less likely an intentional impingement.
The Bilateral Nature: The Obligation of the Victim
Therefore, we find, not surprisingly, that mechilah is formulated as an obligation not only for the offender to seek but also for the aggrieved party to bestow. The mishnah (Bava Kamma 8:7) warns that one who refuses to forgive is called akhzari, “cruel.” The Meiri explains that he is apparently unconcerned about the punishment that will befall the now-penitent individual who wronged him. Such callousness is not befitting a descendant of Avraham, cited by the Talmud as the model of forgiveness. The text of the Mishnah as found in the Talmud Yerushalmi states the halakhah as a prohibition, noting the source for the halakhah that “one may not be cruel and refuse to forgive.” The necessity for harmonization demands that the imperative of mechilah be bilateral; granting forgiveness is as mandatory as requesting it.
Concerning the perspective of the victim, R. David Ariav relates an analytical theory of the nature of forgiveness that parallels the above theories concerning asking for mechilah. This theory builds on a difference in wording between the commentaries of Rashi and the Meiri in interpreting a Talmudic passage discussing forgiveness (Bava Kamma 92a). In Rashi’s understanding, the forgiveness is needed because the victim “worries” about his suffering; while in the Meiri’s rendering, the issue is that the victim “worried” over his suffering.
While apparently a narrow distinction, this theory builds upon the difference to create two models of forgiveness. One is an emotional reality, the dissipation of bad feeling; this goal is indicated by Rashi, who looks for forgiveness to undo a current state of “worrying.” The second, that of the Meiri, refers to a past situation, which may not have any current presence; thus, it is best compared to a monetary claim, that forgiveness removes as a “waiver.”
The Sacred Balance of Human Relationships
The relationship between men serves as a barometer of their standing before Heaven. As the Mishnah (Avot 2:1) states, “What is the right course that a man should choose for himself? One which is an honor to the one doing it, and honorable to him from men.” Any time the social equilibrium is disrupted, repairing the rift becomes a spiritual necessity of utmost urgency.
This bilateral obligation of forgiveness reveals the profound wisdom embedded within halakhic thought. The system recognizes that true reconciliation requires active participation from both parties—the humility of the offender in requesting pardon, and the magnanimity of the victim in granting it. Neither component alone suffices; both are essential for the restoration of harmony that enables divine forgiveness.
The emphasis on process over mere outcome reflects an understanding that forgiveness is not simply a transaction but a transformation. The embarrassment experienced by the one seeking pardon serves to effect genuine change in character, while the obligation upon the victim to grant forgiveness prevents the hardening of heart that perpetual resentment engenders.
Through this comprehensive system, the Torah establishes forgiveness not as an optional gesture of kindness, but as a fundamental obligation that touches the very core of human relationships and divine service. It is both divine, in that it reflects God’s own attribute of mercy, and thoroughly human, in that it requires the active participation and vulnerability of all parties involved.
In our contemporary world, where relationships are often fractured by pride and misunderstanding, these ancient principles offer a roadmap for genuine reconciliation. They remind us that healing requires more than time—it demands the courage to seek forgiveness and the grace to grant it. As digital communication increasingly replaces face-to-face encounter, the halakhic insistence on genuine confrontation and authentic humility becomes ever more relevant, challenging us to move beyond the “cheap” alternatives that technology provides toward the kind of meaningful engagement that alone can repair the tears in the fabric of human relationship. a fundamental obligation that touches the very core of human relationships and divine service. It is both divine, in that it reflects God’s own attribute of mercy, and thoroughly human, in that it requires the active participation and vulnerability of all parties involved.
