I don’t know if there was ever a case where the Torah was referencing the headlines from the news more accurately then this: Don’t touch the boy was a message that should have been sounded in College Station, in South Bend and in too many communities in the United States.

When I first heard on sports talk radio about the events at Penn State University I was a bit cynical. The hosts of these shows spend their days attacking the reputations of sports figures based on nothing more than innuendo and whispers. Many are quite vicious and don’t care what damage they do in speaking about public figures. So when they get on their moral high horses about someone else’s behavior, I react skeptically. But then I read the grand jury investigation’s report on the website of one of the more obnoxious sports talk jockeys. And their opprobrium towards the offender and the authority figures in the University was not overstated.

The investigation report is quite disturbing. There is no need to discuss the molestations here, you can read the report yourself if you are so inclined. But what struck me most after reading it was the alleged perpetrator knew what he was doing was wrong. The abused boys were all between 8-12 years old and one of the mother suspecting something untoward was going on called the coach and told him he could no longer see her son. He told her, “I was wrong. I wish I could get forgiveness…I wish I were dead.” And the authorities, from Joe Paterno to the University President to the campus police never tried to stop him. They forcibly retired him in order to create an air of plausible deniability but never lifted a finger to stop him and save kids’ lives. And one comes away from the report confused as to whose crime was worse, or who is more culpable – the sexual predator or those who let him abuse his prey.

This is really the moral question for us here. It is almost too easy to condemn the abuser. The difficult issue is we bystanders, how do we respond to abuse when we see it or hear about it or even tougher when we suspect but have no evidence. Or when we are familiar with the alleged abuser and have trouble believing what our eyes are seeing.

A couple of years ago a rabbi in Arizona’s life was destroyed when he was arrested for child rape on the accusations of young woman who 10 years earlier had known the man when he was a rabbinical student. She and his daughter played together regularly in the family’s apartment when they were seven. As a seventeen year old her psychologist helped unlock her supposedly repressed memories and she remembered the rabbi had raped her repeatedly. It took him hundreds of thousands of dollars, a lost job and a destroyed reputation to finally have the case thrown of court on lack of evidence.

While being cautious in accusing people of abuse, the cases in the news this week at Penn State and locally regarding Tremelle Sturgis point to situations in which it was obvious that reporting and official investigations were warranted.

In this morning’s Torah reading we read of the infamy of Sodom and Gomorrah. Not only are the men of Sodom sexually violent, threatening to rape the visitors to Lot’s house, but the response of Lot offering his daughters in place of the dignity of the male visitors is appalling. But they are not the only cases of sexual abuse in the parasha. Later after the birth of Isaac, Sarah saw the son whom Hagar the Egyptian had borne to Abraham playing. And immediately She said to Abraham, “Cast out that slave-woman and her son, for the son of that slave shall not share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”

The Hebrew term translated here as ‘playing’ always has a sexual connotation, and often licentious connection. The midrash picks up on this and assumes that Ishmael was being sexually abusive to Isaac.

These two situations offer different responses to the act of sexual abuse.

In the case of Sarah, it is easy to dismiss her demand to expel Ishmael and his mother as an act of jealousy, protectiveness and pettiness. Ishmael is by rights the first born of Abraham and should be given pride of place. However Sarah is the primary wife and she wants to protect her child’s position. And she seems to give herself away by stating, “the son of that slave shall not share in the inheritance with my son Isaac”.

But what if she, like the grad assistant on Penn State’s staff, witnessed an act of gross sexual abuse, whether to her child or someone else’s child as indicated by the term Mitzahayk. One can imagine a conversation in which Abraham is frustrated – Look I promised you and God promised you that Isaac will be the bearer of blessings. Let’s not make a federal case out of this, Ishmael is a good kid. He helped out with the cooking when the visitors came to the house, he agreed to getting circumcised without complaint. Let’s just watch him or let’s just keep him away from Isaac.” Sarah comes out looking very surly and unkind but she understands that one can’t coddle a sexual predator. The most important thing is protecting the victims and future potential victims not giving the perpetrator a second chance.

Now what does Lot do? In Christian and Muslim traditions, Lot is considered very righteous because he sought to live among the wicked and teach them the true path. Sometimes decent people can influence wicked ones by dint of their good behavior; but influence works the other way as well. Lot appears to be as hospitable and as kind as Abraham when the visitors appear. Maybe even more hospitable – he, like Abraham, offers food and an opportunity to wash and begs them to come and stay in his home, for he knows the neighborhood and fears for the outsiders’ safety if they stay on the streets. What he does not do though is inform the visitors as to what goes on in Sodom and how outsiders are treated. He appears to want to protect both the visitors from harm and the community from discovery of its sordidness. Perhaps he was afraid for his safety as that graduate assistant coach was clearly concerned for his football future. Or perhaps he was concerned that his vast agricultural holdings were at stake, like Joe Paterno and the athletic director and the Penn State President were concerned about their program and the money it brought in. But instead of protecting the visitors by steering them away from Sodom, he was even willing to sacrifice his daughters to keep a lid on the prurient goings on in Sodom. And in the end, Lot loses everything, is pulled into the vortex of sexual deviancy he tried to remain apart from when he ends up committing incense with his daughters, just like Joe Paterno and his great football program will now come crashing down in shame.

The message for us is that the swift action of Sarah is to be preferred and dismissive approach of Lot must be rejected. Now in both of these cases Sarah and Lot had visual evidence of wrongdoing so in such cases the responsibility is clear. When we only suspect child or sexual abuse, or if the victim tells us of the abuse it is not always so obvious what to do. That is why I photocopied copies of a help guide in reporting child abuse for you to take and also a copy of information about recognizing signs of child abuse for you to peruse. It is also important to know that despite the earlier story I told about the young woman who falsely charged a rabbi with rape, authorities state that children rarely come forward about abuse unless it occurred.

The Torah mitzvah of “Lo L’hitalem” not to turn aside is never more true than in the case of abuse especially child abuse. While the perpetrators of abuse are clearly responsible and culpable for their sins, let us make sure that unlike the officials at Penn State, we not become culpable ourselves by turning aside from child abuse.

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Pesah is not the only holiday when we ask questions.  But the questions we ask on Yom Kippur, like the queries of the centurion to the rabbi, are questions that aim deep into our existential dramas. This morning I want to explore three questions asked of three Biblical characters whom we shall meet over the course of this day.

The first Biblical figure is Elijah the prophet. We meet Elijah in piyutim, special poems we recite on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, and at the end of the day when at Havdalah we sing Eliyahu HaNavi, Elijah is the prophet who never died and will herald the coming of the Messiah and a new day.  Elijah has a  prominent role in numerous legends but he was first a prophet during the reign the wicked King Ahab and his Phoenician wife, Jezebel.  This was a time of religious backsliding by the people and Elijah stood out as a zealous follower of the Lord.

His grand moment came when he engaged in a contest with the prophets of Ba’al, the prophets of the Canaanite deity. A terrible drought had plagued the land and there stood assembled on Mount Carmel, which now overlooks the harbor of Haifa, King Ahab and the 450 Baalite prophets on one side and Elijah on the other. The contest was simple: both the prophets of Ba’al and Elijah prepared sacrifices and laid them on altars and then it was a matter of invoking their respective deities to bring down heavenly fire to prove which god was more powerful.  The text declares that the 450 prophets wearied themselves in petitions to Ba’al. It was all in vain. Then Elijah dramatically had four jugs of water poured over his offering, then a second time and a third time. And he called to God, yˆn´nSo h yˆn´nSo, Answer me, o God, answer so that the people will know that you are the true God. And a fire descended from heaven and consumed the sacrifice and dried up the water. And the people proclaimed : Hashem Hu HaElokim.  Which  is the dramatic phrase with which we conclude Yom Kippur later today.

That should have been Elijah’s great moment of triumph.  But Jezebel, Ahab’s wife, threatened to kill Elijah and he fled. Elijah journeyed down to the Sinai Peninsula and hid in a cave.  There God finds him and asks “What are you doing here Elijah?”

Elijah’s response is: “I am moved by zeal for the LORD, the God of Hosts, for the Israelites have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and put Your prophets to the sword. I alone am left.” God says to Elijah, Come here.  I want to show you something -  Wind howls, thunder strikes, fire shoots out and God is not to found.  Only in the soft gentle sound—Kol D’mamah dakah, a phrase that will reappear in the Unetaneh Tokef prayer in Musaf – only there is God found.  And again God asks Elijah “What are you doing here Elijah?”  And again Elijah responds, “I am zealous for you, everyone else has abandoned you, all that is left is me”.

A midrash reports that God becomes frustrated with Elijah, sends him off on the next mission which includes appointing his replacement and then assigns Elijah to appear at every bris of Jewish boys into the future to show him that he is not alone among the Jews in remaining faithful to our tradition.  That is why we establish a kisay Eliyahu, a chair for Elijah at every brit milah.

The question that Elijah stumbles over is one that each of us on these holy days must pose to ourselves:   What are you doing here?  Why do we come on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur in such numbers?  There are so many attractions for us outside the synagogue.  So many demands made upon us.  Why come here?  What draws us to this holy space at these and other moments?   What are we doing here?

The spiritual can be found in nature, it can be found in solitude, so what are we doing here?

Harold Kushner speaks of the synagogue as the one place where an individual can be part of a group, and each individual in the group can have their own needs and agenda while the group fosters each individual’s goals without a sense of competition.  We live in a society in which when one person’s succeeds it often means another person did not.  We can join clubs, or teams, or ideological parties but our individuality may not be appreciated.  Only here in this room can we come as  individuals and yet be equals as part of the group.  Only in the Wolf chapel can one receive an ovation for being the 10^th person to minyan, just for walking through the door!

One can be spiritual without community, but one cannot be a spiritual Jew without community.  I don’t know if one can be a Jew at all without Jewish community.

“What am I doing here?” is a question that looms large before us on this day. This question must be asked with utmost seriousness for 21^st century Jews. And the response we give to ourselves should be followed with utmost decisiveness.  For if we find value to being part of a spiritual Jewish community then we must act on it.

It may be that we learn Torah in our classes

Or that we volunteer to be part of a synagogue committee such as the program committee

Or teach in the FEAST and TAMID program

Or make a commitment to minyan or Shabbat and Holiday services.

Or contribute to make these programs possible.

Whatever it is, the question What Am I doing Here should not be allowed to become a rhetorical question.

Our second Biblical character whom we shall meet today is Jonah whose book we shall read at Minha.  Jonah, you may recall is perhaps the most reluctant prophet of all times. He is given an assignment that is to take him outside of the country, to Nineveh. He was going to preach to the wicked people there. He refused, he did not care for the bleeding heart liberal God’s soft on crime campaign, and hops a ship going away from Nineveh. God sends a huge storm and the ship begins to founder. The crew struggles to stay afloat. Then they turn to prayer: they propose that everyone appeal to his own god. Nothing works so they try to figure out caused the storm by casting lots and it falls upon Jonah. So they ask him a series of questions concluding with “from what people are you?”

Jonah responds Ivri Anochi. I am a Hebrew.

What does it mean to say Ivri Anochi? What does it mean to be a Hebrew? An ancient rabbinic interpretation, linked to Abraham who is the first to be called an Ivri, interestingly enough also in the context of a story set amidst non-Jews, Ivri is defined as one who stands Me’ayver, on the other side. In a physical sense it could be a reference to the fact that Abraham, the first Hebrew began his journey from the other side of the Euphrates; but in the metaphysical sense it means he stood apart. To be a Hebrew, means occasionally to stand apart from society; to live according to a different calendar, to respond from a different value system.

Rabbi Jonathan Waxman writes,  “to respond like Jonah to the question “from what people are you?” is to link oneself proudly with a rich culture that has transformed the world, one that stretches through time and space, and that is a blend of memory and of practice”.

Zev Maghen, a professor of Arabic Literature at Bar Ilan, in his book  John Lennon and the Jews a sardonic look at the meaning of Jewish identity, tackles the attraction our western culture has toward universalism by unraveling John Lennon’s popular song “Imagine.” Remember the words? “Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do/Nothing to kill or die for/no religion too”.  Maghen argues that the homogenized humanity that the song, taken to its logical political consequences, leads to is closer to the vision of no barriers, no walls, and no special or distinct human cliques or clans promoted by such great humanists as Stalin, Pol Pot, and Mao.

Rather he looks at the inspiring verse in the Torah, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  Maghen argues that it cannot mean “Love your neighbor as much as you love yourself”.  For Rabbi Akiva elsewhere decreed that if two people were in the desert and only one of them had enough water to survive,  the one who has the water is to keep it for himself.  Why? Because were they to share both would die and one’s life is not less precious than another’s.  “So to Rabbi Akiva [it] means ‘Love your neighbor in the same fashion as you love yourself.’ Use the feelings you have toward yourself as a guide for how to feel about him. You will never love him as much as you love yourself…but you will learn to love him at all, in the first place, solely through your overwhelmingly powerful love of yourself and your own.”

To be able to love others we need to love ourselves, to be able to express concern for other families and clans we need to love our families, to be able to love different cultures and ethnic and religious groups we need to love our Jewish people.  It is through the love of those closest to us by identity and shared history that we can appreciate the bonds other cultures share.  Golda Meir said, “I am convinced that peace will come to Israel and its neighbors because the tens of millions of Arabs need peace just as much as we do. An Arab mother who loses a son in battle weeps as bitterly as any Israeli mother.”

“From what people are you?” This question is crucial for us today as well.  Knowing what people you are from helps understand who you are and what your values are.  A story in the Forward newspaper a few months back noted that a recent survey found that while many young Jews volunteer for social service projects few choose to volunteer at Jewish agencies or even connect their volunteerism to their Jewish identity.    David Elcott, a New York University professor of public policy, warned, “If we can’t connect public service to Judaism, we run into the danger that for the majority of young Jews, their religion will not be reflective of their core values.”   But the opposite danger exists as well that if Jews don’t know their Judaism, if we don’t know what people we belong to or what values we represent than our core values will not be reflective of our religion.

That is the impact of what the sailors ask Jonah.   “From what people are you?”  Aren’t you from a people who believes in teshuvah, change?  Is your God not the God who is a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in kindness?  The question transforms him and in the belly of the fish he prays “In my trouble I called to the LORD, And He answered me…I, with loud thanksgiving, Will make offerings to You; What I have vowed I will perform. Deliverance is the Lord’s!”

Only three times in the Torah does the Torah command us to love.  We are to commanded to love God; We are commanded to love our fellow in the verse we cited above and here I believe it important to stress the tradition’s understanding that fellow here means fellow Jew.  Because the third command to love is you shall love the stranger, the other.  The Torah commands us to love the other, the stranger twice, and explains why: you shall love the stranger as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the LORD am your God.

The Torah is making it clear to us that our embrace of our people, our history, our values will guide us  to be able to love those who are different from us.

Finally one last question from the prophet Isaiah in this morning’s Haftarah.  The prophet of Isaiah 58 may be speaking to the community of Israel who have returned to Israel after Cyrus of Persia allows the Jews to go back.  The people are frustrated they are fasting and afflicting themselves in their search for God, yet at the same time their actions are duplicitous, they oppress the poor and the weak.  Isaiah rebukes them, “Is such the fast I desire, a day for men to starve their bodies? Is it bowing the head like a marsh plant and lying in sackcloth and ashes?”

This is the final question for us.  On this day when we like our ancestors in ancient Judea also fasted we must ask ourselves – Do our behaviors match our convictions?  Do our ritual acts correlate to a spiritual purpose?

Yom Kippur is a day that should be filled with questions, deep questions.  The answers we reflect upon will carry us through the year.

Abraham Joshua Heschel used to tell this story:  A young boy was excited to begin school for the first time.  He made sure he would not forget anything by putting notes around his room to remind him to take all the items needed for school:  “The notebook is on the desk,” “the pencils are in the pencil case,” my lunch is at the door,”  “my jacket is on the hook,” and “I am in bed”.  Next morning he jumped up and diligently went about following his notes, he got his notebooks, his pencils, his lunch and his jacket.  But when he got to the last note he looked in the bed.  The note says “I am in bed” but I am not there.  Where am I?

Let us consider deeply these three questions:         What are you doing here?  From what people are you? Is such the fast I desire?  By answering these three we will know who and where we are.  May this coming year be one of confidence and courage, of steadfastness to our heritage, and compassion for all. Shanah Tovah.

But it is essential that we pause and say something about Israel given its importance in our lives, the precariousness with which it exists and the active hatred that it inspires in so much of the world.

Israel inspires pride within us, American Jews, and also frustration.  We acknowledge that.  There are many valid criticisms of Israel – regarding its foreign policy, its domestic policies, its corruptible political system in which minority political parties can blackmail the government.

But let us remember three things as we consider Israel in our daily lives, and we should consider Israel in our daily life.

First, as a Jewish nation, Israel is composed of our family, our greater Jewish family.  And as in all families there can be frustration , disappointment, embarrassment and even anger at what family members do  – but they are still family.  And our Israeli family are good and powerful family.  Extended Jewish family in Ethiopia, the Former Soviet Union, every Arab country, Iran, South America, South Africa and even Western countries at times such as France, have been saved because of our Israeli family.  So no matter how much one might be frustrated with Israeli politics or even what some find as brazenness in Israeli personalities, let’s remember that our Israeli family members have saved millions of Jewish lives.

Secondly, much of the criticism of Israel that we hear currently  – that Israel is intransigent towards the Palestinians, that they continue to defy the world and build settlements on Palestinian land, that they really like it better not having peace because they don’t have to make any concessions – much of this criticism is exaggerated, overblown, and driven because it fits the media’s mega narrative of an indigenous, homeless Palestinian people fighting against a militarily strong colonial power.  Some criticism is valid, too valid, but the situation is not one sided.  The Palestinians and the Arabs have been just as, if not more, intransigent and cynical about compromise because they still refuse to accept the reality that is Israel and they believe that time is on their side

Finally we must always remember this:

Israel is a miracle in our era not only to us Jews but to humanity and human society.

No other nation of the world has reconstituted itself after thousands of years in Diaspora and without political sovereignty.

How many nations in less than a century of existence have contributed so much good and beneficence to the world?  Recently the 10^th Israeli received a Nobel prize.  The three who won the Peace prize don’t impress me as much as the six who have won Nobel prizes in just the last 10 years in Science and Economics.  Numerous inventions and innovations have been developed in Israel or by Israelis that make our modern life more comfortable and have saved lives.

How many nations at war with enemies whose goal is to destroy it and commit genocide against it allow sympathizers with those enemies to run in civic elections?  Israel has members of Knesset who openly advocate the end of a Jewish state.  Journalists in Israel, I am speaking of Jewish writers, mind you, write pieces in Israeli newspapers that were they written anywhere else would be accused of the most vile anti-Semitic expressions.  Yet Israel continues to permit a free press and free elections.

And finally Israel has allowed the Jewish people a glimpse of what a true organic indigenous Jewish culture can be in all its glorious and irritating reality.   A chance for Jews anywhere in the world to come and absorb the spirit of our holiest places, to experience our ancient, medieval and modern history and to recite a bracha that heretofore could not be recited:

Baruch Atah Hashem Elokeiynu melekh Haolam Khacham Harazim.  Praised are you Lord our God Sovereign of the universe Who knows all Secrets.  This is a blessing that can only be recited when one sees at least 600,000 Jews in one place.

God is the Knower of Secrets and hidden things but he has blessed us with the revelation that is Israel. Let us now rise to recite this prayer for the state of Israel.

You may have seen this story a few years back:  Arthur Rosenfeld was in line at a Starbucks drive thru.  The driver in the car behind him wanted him to move forward so that he could get closer to the microphone to order his drink.  But Rosenfeld could not move any farther because there was a car in front of him.  The driver behind him could not care less and started honking his horn and screaming insults at him.  Rosenfeld, a karate and tai chi instructor, considered getting out of his car and in his words “sending the guy to the dentist”.  But something inside him restrained that impulse.  When he pulled up to the window to pay for his tea, he said “I’d like to buy the coffee for the guy behind me”.

The barista looked at him in surprise. “But he’s a jerk!”

“Just having a bad day, ” I said. “Happens to the best of us.”

“A random act of kindness, eh?”

He shook his head “Not really. I’m not doing it for him; I’m doing it for me. I was mad right back at him, but now that I’m doing this I feel much better.”

Arthur Rosenfeld’s random act of forgiveness impacted the insulting driver who in return for the gesture paid for the coffee of the car behind him who then paid for the coffee of the car behind him and so on.  The story made the national news.

There are many lovely elements to this story but the one that stands out as we enter this Day of Atonement is Rosenfeld’s motivation for paying for the coffee of the man behind him.  He forgave the offender because he, Rosenfeld, needed to forgive him not because the offender had done anything to deserve forgiveness.

Forgiveness is an essential component of the Day of Atonement.  Repentance cannot be complete without forgiveness.  Yom Kippur itself enables us to achieve this level of forgiveness in our relationship with God and most of our worship on this day will contain requests that God forgive us.  But sins committed against a fellow person require acts of appeasement to achieve forgiveness.  Thus one who has the burden of forgiving wields tremendous power over the sinner.  The Talmud allows the injured party some leeway in withholding teshuvah from the would be penitent but not complete control, for after the third sincere attempt the injured must forgive the injurer.

Dr. Moshe Halbertal, an Israeli philosopher,  in a lecture entitled: At The Threshold Of Forgiveness outlines four distinct approaches to the act of forgiveness: forgiveness as autarchy; forgiveness as empowerment; forgiveness as understanding; and forgiveness as grace. This evening I want to share with you these four types of forgiveness so that we may better understand it in order to give and receive this precious act of forgiveness.

The first, forgiveness as autarchy, means self-control and self-sufficiency.  In such a case forgiveness constitutes an expression of independence from the injurer’s control over the injured person’s inner life.  In the case of Arthur Rosenfeld, forgiveness was best granted not to benefit the offender but for the sake of the  injured party, Rosenfeld.  Rosenfeld waived his right to vengeance, for what he wanted to do was free himself entirely from the injurer.

As Ann Landers said, “Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head”.  By not asking for apologies or restitution in exchange for our pardon we demonstrate that we are liberated from the offender’s control over us.  Like Arthur Rosenfeld sometimes we need to forgive for our sake not the one who hurt us.  And like Arthur Rosenfeld, we pray that this year be a year in which we are able to restrain our impulse to respond in anger and contention to every hurt that comes our way.  May we instead turn that impulse to mechila, forgiveness.

Part 2 –

The second type of forgiveness is forgiveness as empowerment.  We cannot always forgive as an act of independence, most of the time it is only appropriate to bestow forgiveness after it is clear that the offenders have done teshuvah, changing their behavior, and forswearing their hurtfulness.  This links the injured to the injurer.

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah we read of how Avraham makes a covenant with Avimelekh and subsequently complains to him about act of theft that Avimelekh’s servants are committing against Avraham.  Avimelekh then apologizes, albeit somewhat defensively.  Why didn’t Avraham complain to Avimelekh as soon as the crimes were committed?  Because he needed to establish a relationship with Avimelekh in order to bring his suit to Avimelekh’s attention and be in a position to grant forgiveness.

 Halbertal calls this second type of forgiveness one of  empowerment because compensation and restitution of the loss or hurt alone do not produce forgiveness. Halbertal writes, “Forgiveness involves another element, no less important than compensation; it requires restoration of the injured person’s sovereignty.”

Rabbi David Blumenfeld is an American Conservative rabbi and his daughter Laura is a journalist for the Washington Post.  Years ago Rabbi Blumenfeld was the victim of a brutal terrorist assault on the streets of Jerusalem.  He was shot in the head, but somehow he survived with only minor injuries.

Years later his daughter decided to track down the terrorist’s family to exact some form of revenge for her father’s shooting.   Without revealing who she was, she met the family of Omar Khatib, the terrorist,  and became friends with them.  As she got to know the family she learned about their brother in prison and asked if she could correspond with Omar.  Thus began a correspondence between a would be murderer and the daughter of the man he tried to kill.  During this time Khatib, who had served 15 years in prison, was presented to a hearing board to determine whether Khatib should be released.  Laura Blumenfeld managed to argue her way up to the podium and  said to the court, “My name is Laura. I come from the United States. And I don’t know all the facts of this case, but I have come to know the gunman, Omar Khatib, and I believe that he has made a promise to me that he would never hurt anybody again. I’ve also communicated with David Blumenfeld, the victim, and he says it’s enough—it’s time to set him free.”

The judges started screaming. “You don’t have a right to speak!”

And she said, “I do have a right to speak, because I’m the victim’s daughter.” Omar Khatib gasped. His sister burst into tears.  The Khatib family had no idea who their American journalist friend had been. The judges fell back in their seats and said, “Why would you do such a dangerous thing—deceiving this family for a year?”

And Blumenfeld said, “Because I wanted them to understand that this is not a conflict between disembodied Arabs and Jews—we’re people, we have families, and you can’t just kill us.”  Omar Khatib wrote to Rabbi Blumenfeld after Laura’s revelation, “I would like first to express to you my deep pain and sorrow for what I caused you. I’ve learned many things about you. . . . Laura was the mirror that made me see your face as a human person deserving to be admired and respected.”  Khatib subsequently became a student of international politics, and a proponent of peace.

For the victim of a terrorist act, or any act of violence in which the perpetrator sees his act as justified, the physical pain from the attack is only part of the injury.  The other is the emotional and psychic anguish that comes from the unwillingness of the perpetrator to even acknowledge that a wrong was done.  Once the injurer can acknowledge remorse and resolve not to pursue his previous actions, forgiveness empowers the injured party by giving them back their dignity.  Omar Khatib’s acceptance through his relationship with Laura Blumenfeld of his wrongful ways laid the groundwork for Laura and her father to forgive Omar Khatib and to complete the inner healing that lagged behind the physical healing of the wound.

In this coming year may we come to appreciate the power that our forgiveness has to return our dignity.  When we hurt and aggrieve others may be appreciate that until we are worthy of their forgiveness the debt accrued through our injury cannot be relieved.

Part 3 –

A third type of forgiveness is forgiveness as understanding.  In June 1991, Michael Weisser, who was a cantor at the time moved with his wife and children to Lincoln, Nebraska.  Soon they were being harassed by phone calls and hate mail.  The police warned them it was the work of Larry Trapp, the local Grand Wizard of the Klu Klux Klan, whom they considered dangerous.  “We know he makes explosives”.  Trapp was active in the hate movement, launching a white supremacist series on a local-access cable channel, even though he was a diabetic and wheel chair bound.  The Weissers knew where he lived – all alone in a cramped one-room apartment.

After the hate mail, Julie Weisser began to wonder about Trapp. She was struck by how lonely he must be, how isolated in all his hatred. She would drive past his apartment complex and while she was infuriated by him, she was also intrigued by how he could become so evil. She told Michael she had an idea: She was going to send Trapp a letter every day, along with a passage from Proverbs about how to treat your fellow man and conduct your life.

Michael called Trapp’s KKK hotline and would leave messages. “Larry,” he said. “Why do you hate me? You don’t even know me, so how can you hate me?”

Another time he said, “Larry, do you know that the first laws Hitler’s Nazis passed were against people like yourself who had physical deformities, physical handicaps? Do you realize you would have been among the first to die under Hitler?

One night, however, he asked Julie, “What will I do if the guy ever picks up the phone?”

“Tell him you want to do something nice for him,” she said: “Tell him you’ll take him to the grocery store or something. Anything to help him. It will catch him totally off guard.”

And one day, just after Michael said, “Larry, when you give up hating, a world of love is waiting for you,” Trapp, did pick up the phone and shouted, “What do you want?”

I just want to talk to you,” said Michael.

“Why the—-are you harassing me? Stop harassing me!”

“I don’t want to harass you, Larry,” Michael said. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I know your voice. You black by any chance?”

“No, I’m Jewish.”

“You are harassing me,” said Trapp. “What do you want? Make it quick.”

Michael remembered Julie’s advice. “Well, I was thinking you might need a hand with something, and I wondered if I could help,” he said. “I know you’re in a wheelchair and I thought maybe I could take you to the grocery store or something.”

Trapp couldn’t think of anything to say. Michael listened to the silence. Finally, Trapp cleared his throat and, when he spoke, his voice sounded different.

“That’s okay,” he said. “That’s nice of you, but I’ve got that covered. Thanks anyway. But don’t call this number anymore.”  Michael replied, “I’ll be in touch.”

And so began continuous communication between Cantor Michael Weisser and Grand Dragon Larry Trapp. One night after one of Michael’s calls, Larry said to him, I want to get out but I don’t know how”.  The Weissers came to his apartment and he handed them two rings with Swastikas on them, “I can’t wear these anymore. Will you take them away?”

“Larry, we brought you a ring, too,” Julie said, and slid a silver friendship ring onto his finger. Larry began to sob. “I’m so sorry for all the things I’ve done,” he said. Michael and Julie put their arms around Larry and hugged him. Overwhelmed by emotion, they started crying, too.

By November 1991, Larry Trapp’s health had deteriorated precipitously.  Five months after sending the Weisser’s hate mail, Larry Trapp moved in with them and Julie Weisser became his full time care giver.  Before he died Larry Trapp converted to Judaism.

The story of the Cantor and the Klansman conveys the third of Moshe Halbertal’s types of forgiveness, forgiveness as understanding.  Halbertal explains that two processes define this type.  One process rests on the appreciation by the injured party of the context of circumstances which led the offender to act.  Julie Weisser’s curiosity to know more about the person who was harassing them demonstrated a sensitivity that this person’s hatefulness must have been spawn out of awful circumstances.  And she was right – not only was he suffering from physical illnesses, as a child he had been molested by black youths in a reform school and this engraved hatred of blacks on his heart.

The other process distinguishes the injurer from the injurious event.  The victim is able to see through the act of repentance and remorse of the perpetrator that the act itself is not part of who the actor is.

Michael Weisser articulates this idea when in an interview with Larry Trapp before Larry died he explained, “I think Larry Trapp has always been a good man, yet he’s had a life that’s been messed up. Until I spoke to Larry Trapp, I’d only had a couple of other experiences with people who are involved in the organizations that Larry was involved with. I never wanted to talk to them; I was afraid of them. The experience of having met and talked with and learning to love Larry Trapp has been eye-opening for me. Larry has helped me realize something about my religion that I’ve taught a lot of people: I am obligated to try to love Larry Trapp — to hate what he stood for, but to love Larry Trapp.”

May this year we too be able to disengage hurtful acts from decent people.  All of us are capable of abusing others, often the ones we are closest to but that does not make us wicked.  Let us distinguish our hurtful behaviors from our true essence in order to change those harmful acts.

Part 4 –

Love is a key component to the fourth type of forgiveness also.  This is forgiveness as grace.  Halbertal explains that in the forgiveness process of empowerment and understanding, the examples of Rabbi Blumenfeld and Cantor Weisser, the act of remorse on the part of the injurer is what establishes forgiveness.  In the grant of forgiveness as grace, however it is forgiveness that is meant to bring about remorse.  By turning to the offender in total love and without making demands on him, the injured party strives to generate a reversal of values in the offender. What is questionable is whether this automatic forgiveness can actually bring about the desired inner change.  This approach to forgiveness does not fall under the capacity of human beings in the Mishnaic laws of  forgiveness.

R. Elazar ben Azariah expounded: [For on this day atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you] from all your sins before the LORD you shall be clean**—the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) effects atonement for transgressions between a man and God; the Day of Atonement does not effect atonement for transgressions between a man and his fellow until [the injurer] placates his fellow (Mishnah Yoma 8:9).

In Jewish sources forgiveness as grace is the exclusive province of the Divine. This kind of forgiveness is related to atonement, kaparah, as in Yom Kippur the Day of Atonement. “from all your sins before the LORD you shall be clean”  Forgiveness of this sort is an existential cleansing.

A midrash explains that it is like a prince who was ill.  The doctors said to the king, “If he will eat this food he will get better.” But the prince was afraid to eat it.  Said his father , know that it will not harm you but look I will eat of it to prove it to you.”  So says the Holy One to Israel are you ashamed to do teshuvah? Behold I will return to you first.

We are so grateful to know that God loves us so much, that God wants us so badly to do good and live righteously that God is willing to forgive even before we have completely turned.    The stories shared this evening reveal the close connection between forgiveness and love.  (From Rabbi David Greenspoon)

Forgiveness is a sign of positive self esteem by moving past the sense of victimhood. 

Forgiveness is recognizing the need to avoid the toxicity of resentment.  It is letting go of our hatred and self-pity.  

Forgiveness is no longer wanting to punish the people who hurt us. 

Forgiveness is accepting that nothing we do to punish them will heal us. 

Forgiveness is freeing up and putting to better use the energy once consumed by holding grudges, harboring resentments, and nursing unhealed wounds.   

Forgiveness is moving on.

Arthur Rosenfeld turned his anger and hostility into an act of thoughtfulness, even though the recipient did nothing to deserve it.  Laura Blumenfeld used her hurt and injury to teach Omar Khatib empathy; and Michael and Julie Weisser’s forgiveness sprang from sympathy once they knew the real Larry Trapp.  As we enter this year we know with certainty there will be many insults and hurts that come our way.  May we learn to turn our hurts to acts of kindness, may we help those who abuse us to see their humanity in our humanity, may we realize that those who afflict are in pain themselves.  And may we in our willingness to forgive those who are truly remorseful, be worthy recipients of God’s unrequited love and grace.