Forgetfulness and the Failure to Forgive

I suspect that we all are familiar with the saying, “forgive and forget.” At this time of year, on Yom Kippur, it seems especially appropriate. After all, Yom Kippur is all about seeking forgiveness and granting forgiveness. As we confront our shortcomings and our misdeeds, and we resolve to repair the damage we have wrought, we pray that those we have injured will find it in their hearts to put their pain aside, accept our attempts at reconciliation, and forgive us. Even while we are seeking forgiveness from other, we also are expected to recognize that there are still others who, in turn, seek our forgiveness, and we, in turn, are called upon to accept their efforts at reconciliation and grant them forgiveness. So forgive and forget would seem to be the order of the day.
There is only one problem with that, and the problem is simple and painfully obvious. Can we truly, honestly forgive and forget. While it is possible for us to forgive, is it really possible for us to forget? After all, we have been hurt and the memory of that hurt stings and in some cases more than stings. Let us be honest about it. Can we really forget that pain and the actions which caused it? We can choose to set it aside or overlook it, but can we actually forget it? Perhaps there are some exceptional human beings among us who can actually forget it, but for most of us, we don’t actually forget it. We may be able to move beyond it, but we don’t forget it. And many of us can’t even find it in our hearts to do that. We refuse to forget it. We refuse to let it go. We insist upon carrying it around within us, like a fire burning at our insides, searing us with pain at the very thought of the offending parties. Far from forgetting, we cling to it as it continually feeds our anger and keeps far from our thoughts even the possibility of granting forgiveness.
There is a certain irony to be found in all this business of forgiving and forgetting. While it seems that we may be incapable of forgetting the injuries that others have inflicted upon us, it does not appear that we are incapable of forgetting, for there is much that we do forget when it comes to these damaged relationships. The irony is to be found in what it is we are quick to forget as opposed to what it seems we are incapable of forgetting.
Who are the people who wind up hurting us? Who are the people who are in need of our forgiveness? In the overwhelming majority of cases, these are the people who, at one time or another, were close to us. Generally speaking, strangers are incapable of doing us great harm. The person who cuts in front of us in line at the grocery store or at a restaurant or at a ticket counter can upset us and anger us for the moment, but they really don’t hurt us, not in the long term in any event. Of course there are exceptions, such as the stranger who performs a horrible act of violence against us or against someone we love. But thank God, most of us have not been subjected to such injuries. Yet it is with the people who are close to us with whom we are most vulnerable. The closer they are, the more we have chosen to share our lives with them, the more vulnerable we become. With them, we open our hearts and drop our defenses. We invest them with a special trust, assuming that they will be there for us, helping us and not hurting us, just as we expect to be there for them, helping and not hurting.
But sometimes things go awry. Mistakes are made, harsh words are said, hurtful actions are taken, whether or not by intention, and pain comes to overshadow love, anger comes to overshadow friendship. In the process, those we once loved become those we feel we cannot forgive.
Is it not odd that while we cannot forget the hurt inflicted upon us, we can so quickly forget all that was good and wonderful about these relationship during all that time prior to their break up?
A couple fall in love. They have an ecstatic courtship. They marry, struggle together, build a home, raise a family, something goes sour, one thing leads to another, and they wind up divorced. More often than not, it is not an amicable divorce but rather a contentious one, filled with anger and hateful recriminations. Children can be caught in the crossfire, and somehow or other, all the love upon which their original relationship was founded seems totally forgotten and only the bitterness remains.
Parents raise a child. They love the child and the child loves them. They provide for all the child’s needs – food, shelter, clothing, emotional support, material possessions, an education – and proudly watch as their child grows into an adult. Somewhere along the way an issue arises about which they dramatically disagree. Perhaps a parent is angered by a life style choice made by the child – a selection of spouse, a change of religion, a choosing of a certain career path, whatever. Perhaps the child is angered because at one point or another certain parental supports were expected but were not offered or delivered. Whatever the issue, a lifetime of love and devotion is forgotten and transformed into an insurmountable barrier of resentment.
Two individuals or two couples find that they resonate with each other and establish a friendship. With the passage of time the friendship grows and grows as they spend more and more time together, share more and more experiences, and come to depend upon each other for more than just companionship. They become like family, maybe even closer than family. Then some contentious issue arises and they find themselves in opposite camps. Each party is deeply devoted to their stand and cannot believe how wrong minded the other party could be on this issue. They feel betrayed. How can they ever have been friends with people who think that way? Perhaps it is not a contentious issue but a personal disappointment. One party calls upon the other for help or support in a particular situation and the other party, for whatever reasons, turns them down. They may even have been legitimate reasons but what sticks in the craw is that when they were needed, their friends were not there for them. A profound friendship – the type of friendship that we rarely encounter in our lives – has been quickly forgotten as it has morphed into animosity and resentment.
If there are aspects of our relationships which we seem incapable of forgetting while there are other aspects of our relationships which we seem all too ready to forget, then perhaps it is not a question of the ability or inability to forget but rather a question of what we choose to forget and what is it that we choose not to forget? Perhaps the harsh reality is that when it comes to our relationships, there are some important elements that we choose to forget while there are other elements that we refuse to forget. Facing up to those choices and honestly, with an open heart, examining those choices is what becomes the challenge of Yom Kippur.
When we choose to refuse to forget the pain inflicted upon us by others, yet, inspired by that pain, we quickly choose to forget all the good times – all the blessings – which we previously enjoyed as we shared our lives with those people, then it is time for us to reconsider how we make such choices. There is no perhaps about it. When we elect to choose pain over pleasure, then we are making bad choices. When we decide whether or not to grant forgiveness to those who have somehow hurt us, and all we can think of is the injury which we received at their hands, and fail to take into consideration all the joy we also received at their hands, then we are making bad choices. When we choose to hold close to our hearts, refusing to forget, all that went bad in our relationships, and let slip away from our consciousness all the was wonderful in our relationships, then we are making bad choice.
When I was a first year rabbinic student, studying for a year in Israel, one of the books that was making the rounds of my classmates was Erich Segal’s, A LOVE STORY. Granted, it is not great literature, but it was extremely popular at the time, and it had a certain appeal for graduate students who found themselves separated by half a world from their girlfriends. If you are not familiar with the book, you probably are familiar with its most famous line, that being, “Love is never having to say you are sorry.” I disagree with that. On the contrary, I believe that the willingness to say we are sorry is an important part of our love. I also believe that when someone we love is willing to come to us, saying that they are sorry, we should be all the more ready and willing to forgive them.
That does not mean that we can forget the injury they inflicted upon us. Such things are hard to forget. But it does mean that we should not forget all the joys we shared with them. It does mean that we should not forget how, in the past, we cared so deeply for them and they cared so deeply for us. Can such feelings disappear like a puff of smoke in a moment of anger or pain? Whether or not they can, they shouldn’t, and we shouldn’t let them. In the end, if we cannot forgive and forget because we cannot forget, we need to choose for ourselves, between that which was good and that which was bad, which is more important for us to remember. Hopefully, we can find it within ourselves to place the memories of the good above the memories of the bad, for when we place the memories of the good above the memories of the bad, we clear the path to healing and forgiveness. And that is what Yom Kippur is all about.