Light Wounds, and Deep Ones
In his book, Yamim Noraim[1], Shmuel Yosef Agnon points out that there is a debate – not so well known – regarding judicial procedure during the Days of Awe.
According to a tradition from the days of the Geonim and perhaps even before (more than 1000 years ago), a Jewish court is supposed to stop judging all but the most pressing cases from Rosh Hashana until Yom Kippur. This tradition is based on the familiar reality that judicial proceedings often stir up ill feelings between the disputants. This increased enmity between Jews is the opposite of what the Yamim Noraim call for, increased love and affection between Jews. As we confront the One who judges our relations with others during the Days of Awe, the halacha requires us to seek others’ forgiveness, not to litigate against them in beit din!
The alternate position, however, rings true as well. The Levush, Agnon writes, rules that it is “far better” to adjudicate all outstanding cases before Yom Kippur. To explain his position, the Levush cites a paradoxical maxim of the Mishnaic sage, R. Eliezer: במקום שיש דין – אין דין; במקום שאין דין – יש דין””. (“Where there is judgment, there is no judgment; where there is no judgment, there is judgment.”) The Midrash (Devarim Raba 5:5) explains R. Eliezer to mean that if human beings carry out justice on earth, then no justice need be carried out in Heaven. If, on the other hand, we do not carry out justice on earth, then Heaven must step in. Based on this Midrash, the Levush argues that if batei din refrain from judging cases during this time of the year, they are exposing us to the possibility of harsh justice from Above, chas ve’shalom. Resolving disputes now, he writes, quiets Divine judgment.
Those of us who do not operate a beit din need not resolve this dispute at its most practical level, deciding when to have the court hear cases; but the two positions point to an essential tension we all face at this time of the year in our relationships with others; a tension between a goal and the process needed to get to that goal.
On the one hand, the Levush and Rabbi Eliezer remind us of what every schoolchild knows, that our search for atonement and forgiveness from G-d is hobbled by outstanding hurts and tensions with others. We, too, know that halacha requires us to resolve disputes by seeking others’ forgiveness, and by forgiving those who approach us. We, too, wish to achieve the goal of quieting the Divine judgment.
On the other hand, along with the Geonim, we also know that the process of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation can itself stir up trouble. Sometimes the other party isn’t ready to forgive or to be forgiven. Honestly, sometimes we, too, are not ready to forgive or to be forgiven. In these harder cases, the messy, imperfect world of flesh and blood human beings often requires us to take two steps back, to review old events, old hurts, and more before we can move forward to the desired resolution and mutual forgiveness. Sometimes, we must peel away the scab of an old wound before it can be cleaned out to heal fully.
This year, then, if some of the wounds we have received or, chas ve’shalom, have given, are deep, let us pray for the strength, creativity and wisdom we’ll need as we consider how best to effect true reconciliation with our fellow human beings.
And as for the wounds we have given and received which have been light and superficial – and who has not? – let us remember to seek and to grant the simple forgiveness needed so that our people can encounter the Days of Awe with an overflowing abundance of unity and brotherly affection.
1 In his speech accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1966 (http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1966/agnon-speech.html), Agnon described the full scope of rabbinical literature as his primary source of inspiration. Yamim Noraim is one of his few works that he cited by name.