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Good Morning,

The days preceding the Jewish High Holydays are a time for reflection, for listening to God’s voice in our hearts, maybe like Ramadan for Muslims, or Lent for Christians.

They offer an opportunity for acknowledging the wrongs we’ve done to others, and for forgiving what others have done to us.

In my house, the master at forgiveness is the dog. Yesterday I shouted at him: ‘Shut up and stop barking’. Today he licked my face the same as ever. He left me filled with love – and shame.

The shame is that I don’t do likewise. Old sores and angers haunt me. I wish I could let go of hurts like he does. ‘Remove anger from your heart’, says Proverbs. But it’s hard.

Yet I don’t really believe in ‘Forgiven and forgotten’. It may be true of the little things; we prefer to keep our distance from people who harbour every slight.

But at depth forgiving isn’t just forgetting. Humanity has an obligation to remember. A world without memory would be a world without moral growth.

Genuine forgiving involves trying to gain wisdom, even from our hurts, just as honest apology means endeavouring to learn from the wrongs we’ve committed.

What we relinquish when we forgive is not memory but the desire to get our own back. Forgiveness means forgoing resentment and self-righteousness in favour of a future of deeper understanding.  Forgiveness is a challenge of love.

On some days I manage to forgive. On others, I tell myself a short prayer: ‘May the sweet juices inside me prove stronger than the bitter waters’.