Biography
Rabbi Karyn Kedar is Director of the Great Lakes Region of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations. Rabbi Kedar was the first woman to serve as a rabbi in Jerusalem. She is a gifted writer and storyteller, and the author of The Dance of the Dolphin and God Whispers. This season she's been a regular commentator on 30 Good Minutes. [Biographical information is correct as of the broadcast date noted above.]

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"Give Away Your Anger"
I looked at my watch impatiently. My lunch companion was late—again. I was on a tight schedule, and in my impatience I found myself pacing between the parking lot, baking in the Florida sun, and the cold air conditioning of the restaurant. Finally, I put on a sweater and settled down inside, ordered a cup of coffee, and watched for my friend. "I am so sorry I'm late," she said as she rushed to my table thirty minutes later. The moment I saw her, I forgave her. I couldn't wait to tell her about a class I had just taught.

We were studying texts on forgiveness, and I had developed an idea that seemed exciting. She listened to me, periodically objecting to a phrase or comment. But mostly she stared at me as if she disagreed in the most fundamental way.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"You know," she said slowly, "my mother was murdered."

"Yes," I said. Though I had known this for a while, I had never asked for the details, preferring to wait until she felt comfortable telling me.

"Well, it was my father who killed my mother."

My mind was as blank as my stare. Any thought I had on forgiveness had vanished.

"He's sitting in prison, sick with cancer," she said. "He wants to see me. I struggle between the thought of seeing him and never seeing him again. Do I forgive him before he dies? Is it possible to forgive him?"

I began to stutter some cliche. Then I stopped and looked at her eyes. They lacked the emotion and passion I was used to seeing from my friend.

"Can you continue to live with the anger?" I asked. "I'm sure he is less affected by your anger than you are. But what does the anger do to you?"

"When anger overpowers me," she answered, "I feel as if I have relinquished my powers and that I am no longer in control of my life."

"Relinquish your powers," I said, "and you will lose the stuff that makes your life magical. In order to return to a life of wonder, then perhaps you need to find the way to forgiveness."

That afternoon I learned more about forgiveness than during all my years of teaching and study. I began searching for new definitions, new terminology. Old formulations simply no longer applied.

My friend helped me understand that to forgive is not to condone or excuse. There are acts that are inexcusable. There are behaviors that are not to be condoned. But we shouldn't use this truth to keep us angry or fearful. Anger and revenge are destructive. We were born to be creative.

My friend and I continued our conversation over many months. She could not decide whether she should see her father again or not. Finally I said to her, "Forgiveness is not about fantasy. No one expects you to go back to a loving father-daughter relationship."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You need not reestablish a relationship. In fact, there are times that you forgive and get out of the way. When you forgive, there is a great internal transformation. You are changed. Your perspective is different. But your father may be just the same. He may have ignored the opportunity for change and be unaffected by your transformation. If that is the case, get out of his way."

To forgive is not an act of kindness toward the person who has wronged you. Forgiveness is an act of kindness toward yourself. It is not about what your offender deserves; it is about what you deserve. We all deserve a life without fear and anger. We have greater things than anger to feel. And to forgive is to rid yourself of anger, fear and obsession. Imagine the relief of not feeling those things. Just imagine how much energy you would have for creative endeavors if you were not obsessed. Imagine the thoughts you could entertain if you were not thinking, avoiding, plotting angry deeds. It is called for-give-ness because you give away your anger and resentment. To surrender your anger is not to capitulate, or to lose ground, or to give in. Surrender to a softer place, a place of peace, not strife. At the moment of surrender, you realize the beauty of your own path. That is was not only the obvious blessing that helped your life emerge, but also the struggle. When anger is replaced by forgiveness, you are free to let love guide your life.

As we strive to love others, we often forget to love ourselves. It is as if self-love is forbidden. But actually, it is commanded in the Bible. The command is not only to love our neighbor, but to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. As we deepen the love for ourselves, we deepen the capacity to love others. Love heals. It heals the wounded soul, it heals the relationships we cherish, it heals the world. Self-love strengthens our ability to be loving beings.

We have so many regrets. There are so many times that we could have—or should have—chosen a different path or gone in a different direction. Every time we use the word "should," we accuse ourselves of not doing our best. Every time we say "I could have," we second-guess ourselves, blaming ourselves for not choosing a different path. Guilt and regret are heavy on our souls. Imagine how much energy we would have if we did not let them weigh us down: energy to create, energy to love, energy to move on.

I was recently having coffee with someone who had been a friend for many years. Every time we get together we begin by recounting the story of our lives, as if we were telling some sacred narrative. At one point, we began to wonder how life should have been different "if we only...." We looked at each other and instantly recognized that we had it all wrong. We were wrong to regret any part of the story. The "good" decisions and the "bad" decisions were all the "right" decisions because they led us down a path that was filled with meaning. There were so many lessons learned from the mistakes, so much growth from the bad experiences the we honestly wouldn't change a moment. "Should have" and "could have" were futile phrases that did not recognize that all is for a reason and that we did the best we could at the time. "It's not enough to forgive others," I said. "We must forgive ourselves."

For the next several hours, we retold the sacred narrative, this time recounting the lessons in the turns in the road. "That is what repentance means in Hebrew," I said. "The word for repentance is teshuvah and it means to turn towards the right path, the path that leads to an understanding of God."

She smiled. "Then let's turn from accusation toward understanding. In the turning, we can head for the goodness of God. Let's take ‘should' and ‘could' out of our vocabulary."

At every stage in my life, I did what I knew how to do. If I would have known better, I would have done better. But every day I must remember to be kinder to myself and more forgiving of my imperfections, because, at every point along the way, I am blessed. Everything I have done and seen has made me who I am in this moment. It's OK to have been me. I try to forgive and then there is the night and the darkness of self doubt.

The drama of nighttime angel encounters are the stuff of ancient texts. Jacob sat on a riverbank at night, alone and afraid of the morning, when he will meet his brother, who had become his enemy and had an army of four hundred men with him. Suddenly a stranger appears—perhaps a man or perhaps an angel—and the two wrestle through the night. Jacob is wounded, and as the sun begins to rise, the angel blesses him with a new name. He is no longer to be called Jacob, but Israel, which means "one who wrestles with God."

We sometimes find ourselves in ambiguous moments, as if, like Jacob, we were between two points – where we've been and where we want to go. It is there, at that in-between point, that we struggle. We wrestle with voices, with emotions, with fear, with our need to forgive, with angels sent by God. But like Jacob, we must struggle, even if we become wounded. We must become like Jacob and stand our ground and embrace our essential self, as we wrestle with God.

Two sisters, both of them in their sixties, made an appointment to see me one day. Their father had just died, and they came to share their grief and sense of guilt. The father had been very controlling and interfered with every aspect of their lives. As they described their home and relationships with each family member, I began to see two different styles of coping. One sister coped by shutting herself off from the struggle. She had left her father's home when she was rather young and seemed to have shut herself off from her pain: "I have to get on with life. Dwelling on our relationship is not useful." Even as I heard her say these words, I saw that she was wrapped up in her anger.

The other sister appeared to be trying to understand her own pain. She had been in therapy for many years and was clearly still wrestling with the relationship she had had with her father as a child and as an adult. She had little confidence, and she'd suffered an ugly divorce and the criticism of her sister, who wished she would stop dwelling on negative experiences and get on with her life. The sister who ran away felt the other was too weak and self-indulgent; the sister who was struggling felt the other was not in touch with her emotions.

I saw them both stranded on the riverbank of conflict. One refused to engage the challenge God had placed before her. The other was locked in a hold she refused to release. Neither was ready to forgive their father—or each other.

Don't be afraid of the struggle. See the struggle as God giving you the chance to triumph over difficulty, to deepen, to grow, to forgive. Engage with the demons and with angels. Then release. Cross over the river and journey on. Give away your anger and there will be room in your soul to embrace love.

Interview with Karyn Kedar
Interviewed by Lydia Talbot

Lydia Talbot: Karen, in your wonderful message, Give Away Your Anger, you make a point to say that forgiveness doesn't mean to excuse or to condone and yet that's what many people don't hear.

Karyn Kedar: I think the understanding that to forgive and forget is where we need to go is what blocks us most from the act of forgiveness. There are things that people do that are unforgivable in the classic sense. But if you think of forgiving as a kindness toward yourself and a giving away of anger—not condoning the other person's behavior, but getting past that and not letting their ill deed have control over your life—I think you can reach some kind of peace inside.

Talbot: Karen, you were the first woman rabbi in the history of Jerusalem where you lived for ten years and worked hard to develop reform congregations and communities there. From your experience, how do you think that forgiveness and reconciliation, the Biblical principles we've talked about, would impact the clash of rights between Jews and Palestinians there?

Kedar: The conflict in Israel is a very difficult conflict. I think that we've seen in this country over the past year and several months that you need a partner in order to come to peace. Forgiveness is to allow the person on the other side to also go through a path in which they can also find forgiveness and reconciliation. I do believe all of the Israelis, all of the mothers on both sides of the conflict would like to find their way to that path, and yet somehow it seems to be darkened at the moment and we are looking for the hope.

Talbot: We know that Jesus forgave the world when he was in his deepest pain. How can pain move us into forgiveness instead of bitterness?

Kedar: I think that is a beautiful question. The difference between someone who is overcome by their circumstance and someone who is not overcome is that inside of them they say, "You're not going to get me! This pain is going to be used in order for me to find blessing and not in order for me to be destroyed." That inner voice, which I believe is the voice of God, can bolster us on a path that can bring us back to love.

Talbot: Is it harder to forgive than be forgiven?

Kedar: I think that's why in part of my message I talked about self-love. We have to find the capacity not only to love others but to love ourselves. All of us were created in the Divine image including myself and you. We need to see that spark in our own lives as well as in the lives of others.

Talbot: Thank you, Karen, for giving us that spark in this important subject of forgiveness!