What If I Can’t Forgive?

Finding the strength to apologize for the mistreatment of another can be excruciatingly difficult. At the same time, being prepared to forgive for that same mistreatment can be just as challenging, if not harder. Nonetheless, Yom Kippur asks for both: for one who has offended another to seek that victim’s forgiveness, and if the process has been appropriate, for that victim to grant it.
What does it mean to forgive? Maimonides’ language (Hilkhot Teshuvah 2:10) requires it be b’levav shalem v’nefesh chafeitzah, “with a complete heart and a willing spirit”: quite a demanding standard.

One important question, taken up largely in the later generations, is that of one who is approached to forgive, but feels he cannot sincerely do so. The discussion is held on a number of levels: can the victim tell the offender he forgives if this does not reflect his actual emotional state? What about declarations in private, such as before retiring at night; would such a statement be deemed a falsehood?
These questions, which were presumed to be related, were addressed in sharply different ways by halakhic authorities and ethicists. (Extensive discussions about this can be found in L’Hoil L’Acharini, pp. 52-58; L’vavo Ne’eman, pp. 228-229 ; HaParshah B’Halakhah, p. 132; Torat HaAdam L’Adam, III, pp. 35-36.) Some asserted that forgiveness should be expressed anyway, and that the statement is its own accomplishment. It is reported that R. Yitzchak (Peterburger) Blazer would instruct his students to say to each other “I hereby forgive you all” prior to Yom Kippur, and that an announcement of that nature was made at Kol Nidrei services in the yeshiva at Ponevezh.

The halakhic standard is usually devarim she-ba’lev einam devarim (Kiddushin 49b); when two individuals are transacting, only that which is verbalized is valid, and an unspoken intention, even if contradictory, is not credited. As such, a statement of forgiveness is equivalent to forgiveness itself, even if one internally feels very differently. This position was taken by the great Talmudist R. Yosef Engel (Gilyonei HaShas to Kiddushin) and many later authors (This is the view favored by R. Chaim Kanievsky, cited in L’Dofkei B’Teshuvah, p. 113.).

R. Engel cites in support of his view a brief statement of the 14th century German scholar R. Menachem of Meresburg (Nimukei Choshen Mishpat, #52). However, it must be carefully considered whether or not this source is applicable. It is possible that the context is a monetary dispute, in which one party denies that the waiving of his rights necessary for a settlement was sincere. In that instance, the focus is purely on a monetary transaction, and the rule disregarding unspoken conditions must indeed dominate. However, if the subject is forgiveness of an interpersonal offense itself, apart from its monetary implications, there is a strong case to be made that devarim she-ba’lev, internal feelings, must indeed be acknowledged.
Many authorities took this position, asserting that this kind of forgiveness is distinct from the monetary kind, and resides completely within the emotional realm; as such, emotional realities are the only relevant metric.

This connects to the broader question of to what extent, if any, the forgiveness for an offense is comparable to that same concept and terminology (mechilah) as applied in the monetary realm. A strong parallel between them was displayed by the advice of R. Yisrael Salanter (Netivot Ohr (printed in Ohr Yisrael), pp. 58a-b) that one who is offended by another should immediately forgive. If he does so, he argued, he would then be bound by a prohibition to not maintain any grudge, just as one who forgives a monetary debt relinquishes any right to collect at a later date, even if he reconsiders.

Consistent with that understanding, many scholars in that tradition, such as R. Simchah Zissel of Kelm, took the position that verbalized mechilah is inherently effective, regardless of internal feelings. R. Reuven Grozofsky (In the memorial volume Even Tzion, p. 542-543), who cites his view, grapples with the application: obligations of the heart – his essay focuses on the prohibition of accepting lashon hara – are determined by the heart, and this presumably is the case for forgiveness of offense. R. Yisrael’s advice, he notes, was addressing a specific aspect of interpersonal conflict: “ta’arumet”, or “grievance”, is a privilege granted to some parties who have been wronged by others. Its exact nature is subject to debate, and it is clear that it is non-monetary; still, it is comparable to monetary rights in its function. This privilege, then, is waived irrevocably with a verbal declaration, regardless of sincerity. It does not, however, reflect on the entirety of the forgiveness necessary when an interpersonal offense has taken place.
The Chazon Ish was reported (Ma’aseh Ish, I, p. 161) to have objected to the practices of R. Blazer and the Ponevezh Yeshiva noted above, asking “is resentment really removed in such a fashion”? Perhaps, he allowed, after some of the Yom Kippur rituals had had an opportunity to move the heart, there would be some truth to it; but a simple declaration had no meaning. As his nephew, R. Nissim Karelitz, noted (Chut Shani, Hilkhot Yom Kippur, p. 100), this was consistent with his understanding of the essence of mechilah, which is to remove antipathy from one’s heart. (However, note the citation of another nephew, R. Chaim Kanievsky, in L’Dofkei B’Teshuvah, p. 113, in Sha’ar HaTziyun, n. 797.) However, he did allow for a distinction: if one is confronted with a request for forgiveness that he feels unprepared to grant, and nonetheless responds affirmatively out of embarrassment, there is some value to this. Even though he has not yet truly forgiven, he has chosen to begin the process, albeit for a side reason, and this commitment is meaningful.
A similar position is attributed to R. Elya Lopian, about whom it was said that he was once disgraced by an individual who later asked for forgiveness. He responded by asking his interlocutor to come back a few days later; he needed the time, he explained, to work on his character so that he could reach a state in which he would be ready to forgive.

(See Shalmei Todah, Yamim Noraim, pp. 197-198. R. Aryeh Leib Steinman, Ayelet HaShachar, Gen. 50:17, cites this story as well in explaining why Joseph is not explicitly recorded in the Torah as forgiving his brothers. See the related point from R. Yechezkel Levenstein in Mofet HaDor, p. 26 and Ohr Yechezkel, II, p. 33.)
A number of authorities maintained that not only is an insincere statement of forgiveness ineffective, it is worse than nothing. R. Shlomo Wolbe (Alei Shur, II, pp. 240-241) writes about this in harsh terms: it is an act of geneivat da’at (deception); it deprives the offender of his needed atonement; it impedes the act of appeasement mandated by Jewish law. Further, he writes, one who does this will himself need to repent prior to Yom Kippur. Similarly, R. Yitzchak Pinchas Goldwasser, in his Tapuchei Zahav (Bava Metzia 83a), worried that R. Yisrael’s stratagem was dangerous: if one would, in fact, feel resentment after having released his claims, he would then be doing so without justification, and thus sinfully. As such, he posits, R. Yisrael must have only recommended this for close students who he trusted to have the spiritual fortitude to live up to its expectations.

Similarly, some authorities, such as R. Abba Ben Tzion Shaul (Resp. Ohr L’Tziyon, II, p. 150, #13), prohibited one who maintained resentment against another from reciting the phrase “I hereby forgive all who have offended me” in the nightly bedtime shema, asserting do so would render one a dover shekarim (a speaker of falsehoods, see Ps. 101:7). The inadequacy of this formulation, when said insincerely, was addressed earlier by the Pele Yoetz (Erekh Teshuvah, s.v. v’im hi), who advised offenders against relying on their victims reciting it for this and other reasons. Notably, however, he did not forbid one from reciting the statement despite not experiencing full forgiveness. However, elsewhere in his writings (Orot Eilim, Megillah 28a ), he does recommend against it in such a situation, indicating it is an attempt to deceive God, and urges one to wait until one can “commit in his mind and heart” to forgive.

Regarding this recitation, R. Yisrael Salanter’s recommendation was again considered relevant, but in a negative way. If it is indeed the case that declaring forgiveness removes one’s legitimate entitlement to grievance, it renders any continuing emotional connection to the issue sinful, an enormous challenge for a typical human. Accordingly, R. Yitzchak Hutner declined to include this in his nighttime routine (see R. Yaakov Blumenthal, Chelko Shel Yaakov, Megillah, pp. 202-203).

Despite the linkage assumed by these authorities, it would seem that there may be room to distinguish between the offended insincerely telling the offender that he forgives, on the one hand, and the recitations in the context of prayer. In the latter instances, while the authorities expressed a concern that one is speaking falsely before God and perhaps exhibiting a deceitful façade, the truth is, of course, that it is impossible to deceive God. As such, the potential harm in such a statement cannot be compared to the actual negative effects of misleading a penitent and depriving him of his process of redemption. Instead, what is happening in this case can be seen as a sense of personal affirmation and commitment. Even if the offended party is not yet in a place where he is able to forgive with a full heart, he is declaring before God that that is where he wishes to be, and that statement is not only sincere in its own way, but an actual concrete step towards its own realization.
In this vein, it should be noted that even when actually interacting with the other party, there are many nuances and levels within the process of forgiveness and reconciliation. There is a difference between claiming that one is forgiving with total disregard for reality on one hand, and on the other hand, the tentative statement that comes from one who remains in emotional pain, but wishes it could be otherwise.

Relatedly, R. David Ariav (L’Reakha Kamokha, III, kuntres ha-biurim, 7) suggests a distinction within the concern. There are times when a victim sincerely offers his forgiveness, but still experiences some inner distress over the incident. This, he posits, should not be deemed an insincere mechilah; some pain, unfortunately, never goes away, as can be seen from physical injury, and nonetheless forgiveness is possible. Once the victim has fully gone through the process of releasing his grievance, the forgiveness is sincere, even if some hurt lingers.

It is wholly legitimate and necessary to acknowledge that forgiveness is a process and a spectrum. The offended party can express his appreciation for the efforts of the other and his desire to completely address his acts of mistreatment and take full note of his significant personal growth and movement to reconciliation. At the same time, his own journey may require additional distance. He may be prepared to credit the offender for his own progress and liberate him from his guilt while also allowing for his own travels to take a longer path.

This is especially consistent with Maimonides’ formulation of the mandate for forgiveness. He includes this directive together with two Torah prohibitions: that of bearing a grudge and of taking revenge. It is noteworthy that he also finds those two to be linked to each other, understanding that one who allows himself to dwell on a grievance is at increased risk of acting aggressively in vengeance as a result, which in turn contributes to the erosion of harmonious society.

Placing the mandate of forgiveness in this context highlights the role it plays in one’s own behavior and stability of character. It emphasizes that the victim too needs to chart an individualized path for himself to guarantee his own balanced conduct and productive contributions to society. Without a doubt, the progress of this journey is greatly impacted by the efforts the offender has made to repair their relationship. At the same time, it is still a completely personal one for the offended. These two individual journeys take place on parallel tracks, ultimately converging. It is not crucial that they travel at the same pace. What is vital is that the process be one that is genuine and honest, and that whatever that pace is, it is going in the right direction.