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