38 | DECEMBER 29 • 2022
T
here are rare and spe-
cial moments when the
world changes and a
new possibility is born: when
the Wright brothers in 1903
made the first man-made flight,
or in 1969 when
Neil Armstrong
became the first
man to set foot
on the moon,
or when, almost
6,000 years
ago, someone
discovered that
marks made in clay with a stick
could, when the clay dried,
become permanent signs and
thus writing, and civilization,
were born. In 1439, when
Johannes Gutenberg invented
the movable-type printing press
(though the Chinese had devel-
oped it four centuries before);
in 1821 when Faraday invented
the electric motor; or in 1989
when Tim Berners-Lee created
the World Wide Web.
There is such a moment in
this week’s parshah, and in its
way it was no less transforma-
tive than any of the above. It
happened when Joseph finally
revealed his identity to his
brothers. While they were silent
and in a state of shock, he went
on to say these words:
“I am your brother Joseph,
whom you sold into Egypt!
And now, do not be distressed
and do not be angry with
yourselves for selling me here,
because it was to save lives that
God sent me ahead of you … it
was not you who sent me here,
but God.
” Gen. 45:4-8
This is the first recorded
moment in history in which one
human being forgives another.
According to the Midrash,
God had forgiven before this,
but not according to the plain
sense of the text. Forgiveness
is conspicuously lacking as an
element in the stories of the
Flood, the Tower of Babel and
Sodom. When Abraham prayed
his audacious prayer for the
people of Sodom, he did not
ask God to forgive them. His
argument was about justice, not
forgiveness. Perhaps there were
innocent people there, 50 or
even 10. It would be unjust for
them to die. Their merit should
therefore save the others, says
Abraham. That is quite differ-
ent from asking God to forgive.
Joseph forgave. That was a
first in history. Yet the Torah
hints that the brothers did not
fully appreciate the significance
of his words. After all, he did
not explicitly use the word
“forgive.
” He told them not
to be distressed. He said, “It
was not you but God.
” He told
them their act had resulted in a
positive outcome. But all of this
was theoretically compatible
with holding them guilty and
deserving of punishment. That
is why the Torah recounts a
second event, years later, after
Jacob had died. The brothers
sought a meeting with Joseph,
fearing that he would now take
revenge. They concocted a
story:
They sent word to Joseph,
saying, “Your father left these
instructions before he died:
‘This is what you are to say
to Joseph: I ask you to forgive
your brothers for the sins and
the wrongs they committed
in treating you so badly.
’ Now
please forgive the sins of the
servants of the God of your
father.
” When their message
came to him, Joseph wept. Gen.
50:16-18
What they said was a white
lie, but Joseph understood why
they said it. The brothers used
the word “forgive” — this is the
first time it appears explicitly
in the Torah — because they
were still unsure about what
Joseph meant. Does someone
truly forgive those who sold
him into slavery? Joseph wept
that his brothers had not fully
understood that he had forgiv-
en them long before. He had no
anger, no lingering resentment,
no desire for revenge. He had
conquered his emotions and
reframed his understanding of
events.
FORGIVENESS OR
APPEASEMENT
Forgiveness does not appear
in every culture. It is not a
human universal, nor is it
a biological imperative. We
know this from a fascinating
study by American classi-
cist David Konstan, Before
Forgiveness: The Origins of a
Moral Idea (2010). In it, he
argues that there was no con-
cept of forgiveness in the lit-
erature of the ancient Greeks.
There was something else,
often mistaken for forgiveness:
appeasement of anger.
When someone does harm
to someone else, the victim is
angry and seeks revenge. This
is clearly dangerous for the
perpetrator, and they may try
to get the victim to calm down
and move on. They may make
excuses: It wasn’t me, it was
someone else. Or, it was me,
but I couldn’t help it. Or, it was
me, but it was a small wrong,
and I have done you much
good in the past, so on balance
you should let it pass.
Alternatively, or in con-
junction with these other
strategies, the perpetrator may
beg, plead and perform some
ritual of abasement or humil-
iation. This is a way of saying
to the victim, “I am not really
a threat.”
The Greek word sugnome,
sometimes translated as for-
giveness, really means, says
Konstan, exculpation or abso-
lution. It is not that I forgive
you for what you did, but that
I understand why you did it
— you could not really help it,
you were caught up in circum-
stances beyond your control
— or, alternatively, I do not
need to take revenge because
you have now shown by your
deference to me that you hold
The Birth of Forgiveness
Rabbi Lord
Jonathan
Sacks
SPIRIT
A WORD OF TORAH