Article I found on Oct 4 2005 re Rosh HaShanah
Those who sin must make five stops along path to forgiveness
Full story:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/faithvalues/2002532458_glickmancolumn01m.html
By Rabbi Mark S. Glickman
Special to The Seattle Times
"Rabbi," she said. "I need to talk with you about forgiveness."
We'll call her Helen. She was a stay-at-home Mom in her early 40s who came in to speak with me a few years ago looking frazzled. The previous Friday night, she had heard another rabbi speak about Judaism's view of forgiveness, and something he'd said had unsettled her. "When I heard Rabbi Birnbaum's sermon, I was really surprised. I'd expected him to give us the same old line that I hear from psychologists and read in self-help books -- about how we should forgive everyone, that forgiveness is the ideal. But that's not what he said at all."
"Good!"
"He said that Judaism teaches us not to forgive people unless they deserve it."
"Yes ... "
"Is that really the Jewish view?"
"Absolutely. Judaism says that we should forgive only those sinners who are truly repentant."
"So, for us to forgive them they have to apologize for what they've done?"
"Apologizing is the least of it, Helen. They need to atone. The Hebrew word for repentance or atonement is teshuvah, which literally means return. It's a difficult, gut-wrenching process, and it involves much more than just apologizing. In fact, there are five steps.
"The wrongdoer must (1) take full responsibility for his misdeeds, (2) change his behavior, (3) apologize, (4) compensate his victims and (5) maintain the changes long-term. It's a humbling process, and it usually isn't very much fun."
"And if somebody wrongs us and doesn't do all these things ... ?"
"Then we don't owe them anything in the way of forgiveness."
Helen paused. "Rabbi," she sighed, "I've got a problem with my ex-husband, Bill. We've been divorced for about 10 years now -- I left him after discovering he'd had a series of affairs with other women.
"Back then, I was so hurt and angry that I could have wrung his neck.
After all, not only did he betray me, but then he tried to tell me that his fooling around was my fault. Now I can at least talk to him about things having to do with the kids. But whenever I'm actually in his presence, the hurt starts all over again.
"Well, now, as you know, we're getting ready for David's bar mitzvah in a few months, and instead of looking forward to it, I've been dreading it because Bill will be there. I mentioned this to my mother, and she said, 'Honey, do you really think you need to bring all of that up again? It was so long ago. Why can't you just forgive him and let bygones be bygones?'
"Rabbi, I tried to forgive him. I really did. But I just can't bring myself to do it."
"Helen," I said, "has Bill ever apologized to you for what he did?"
"No. He tried to blame me for it instead."
"Well, until he apologizes -- until he goes through his teshuvah -- I don't think you owe him one whit of forgiveness. Forgiving him would amount to your saying that you won't hold him accountable for betraying you. But you should hold him accountable, Helen, and I hope you have enough respect for yourself to do so. No, don't forgive him, Helen. He doesn't deserve it. At least not yet."
Helen paused. "My mother says I won't be happy until I do."
"So let's find you some tools you can use at the bar mitzvah and at other times to prevent the memories from hurting so much. Whatever those tools might be, I'm certain that saying, 'Bill, don't worry about having had all those affairs because it's all OK now and I don't really care any more that you betrayed a sacred trust' isn't one of them."
The following week was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Early in the evening services with which we began the celebration, the cantor chanted in Hebrew, "Eternal God, cause all your works to stand in awe before you, and all that you have made to tremble at your presence. ... "
I looked over at Helen, sitting upright in the third row. From behind the somber expression on her face I noticed that there shone a new ray of hope and dignity.
On Tuesday night, Jews around the world with gather to celebrate Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and begin a 10-day period of repentance that will culminate Oct. 13 with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Full story:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/faithvalues/2002532458_glickmancolumn01m.html
By Rabbi Mark S. Glickman
Special to The Seattle Times
"Rabbi," she said. "I need to talk with you about forgiveness."
We'll call her Helen. She was a stay-at-home Mom in her early 40s who came in to speak with me a few years ago looking frazzled. The previous Friday night, she had heard another rabbi speak about Judaism's view of forgiveness, and something he'd said had unsettled her. "When I heard Rabbi Birnbaum's sermon, I was really surprised. I'd expected him to give us the same old line that I hear from psychologists and read in self-help books -- about how we should forgive everyone, that forgiveness is the ideal. But that's not what he said at all."
"Good!"
"He said that Judaism teaches us not to forgive people unless they deserve it."
"Yes ... "
"Is that really the Jewish view?"
"Absolutely. Judaism says that we should forgive only those sinners who are truly repentant."
"So, for us to forgive them they have to apologize for what they've done?"
"Apologizing is the least of it, Helen. They need to atone. The Hebrew word for repentance or atonement is teshuvah, which literally means return. It's a difficult, gut-wrenching process, and it involves much more than just apologizing. In fact, there are five steps.
"The wrongdoer must (1) take full responsibility for his misdeeds, (2) change his behavior, (3) apologize, (4) compensate his victims and (5) maintain the changes long-term. It's a humbling process, and it usually isn't very much fun."
"And if somebody wrongs us and doesn't do all these things ... ?"
"Then we don't owe them anything in the way of forgiveness."
Helen paused. "Rabbi," she sighed, "I've got a problem with my ex-husband, Bill. We've been divorced for about 10 years now -- I left him after discovering he'd had a series of affairs with other women.
"Back then, I was so hurt and angry that I could have wrung his neck.
After all, not only did he betray me, but then he tried to tell me that his fooling around was my fault. Now I can at least talk to him about things having to do with the kids. But whenever I'm actually in his presence, the hurt starts all over again.
"Well, now, as you know, we're getting ready for David's bar mitzvah in a few months, and instead of looking forward to it, I've been dreading it because Bill will be there. I mentioned this to my mother, and she said, 'Honey, do you really think you need to bring all of that up again? It was so long ago. Why can't you just forgive him and let bygones be bygones?'
"Rabbi, I tried to forgive him. I really did. But I just can't bring myself to do it."
"Helen," I said, "has Bill ever apologized to you for what he did?"
"No. He tried to blame me for it instead."
"Well, until he apologizes -- until he goes through his teshuvah -- I don't think you owe him one whit of forgiveness. Forgiving him would amount to your saying that you won't hold him accountable for betraying you. But you should hold him accountable, Helen, and I hope you have enough respect for yourself to do so. No, don't forgive him, Helen. He doesn't deserve it. At least not yet."
Helen paused. "My mother says I won't be happy until I do."
"So let's find you some tools you can use at the bar mitzvah and at other times to prevent the memories from hurting so much. Whatever those tools might be, I'm certain that saying, 'Bill, don't worry about having had all those affairs because it's all OK now and I don't really care any more that you betrayed a sacred trust' isn't one of them."
The following week was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Early in the evening services with which we began the celebration, the cantor chanted in Hebrew, "Eternal God, cause all your works to stand in awe before you, and all that you have made to tremble at your presence. ... "
I looked over at Helen, sitting upright in the third row. From behind the somber expression on her face I noticed that there shone a new ray of hope and dignity.
On Tuesday night, Jews around the world with gather to celebrate Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and begin a 10-day period of repentance that will culminate Oct. 13 with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Rabbi Mark S. Glickman leads Congregation Kol Shalom on Bainbridge Island.
He and four other columnists -- the Rev. Patricia L. Hunter, Aziz Junejo, Pastor
Mark Driscoll and the Rev. Patrick J. Howell -- take turns writing for the Faith
& Values page.
Readers may send feedback to faithpage
Copyright (c) 2005 The Seattle Times Company
Your Life. Your Times.
posted by amiCreative at 1/02/2005 03:06:00 PM
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