Reconciliation

In previous lessons, we discussed how to ask for forgiveness and how to accept apologies.

Today we will discuss the importance and essence of reconciliation between people.

There is no home among the Jewish people, perhaps with the exception of those of the generation's great sages, where there are no disagreements. Quarrels happen too—and that is normal; it would be strange if they did not, considering how different men and women are as beings. Moreover, each spouse brings their personal qualities into the family and reflects the upbringing they received in their parents' home. So disagreements and quarrels are naturally an integral part of married life. And the more a husband and wife argue, among other things, over who is in charge and whose decision is final, the more likely and inevitable quarrels become.

It is especially difficult for our generation, which builds Jewish homes in an age of tremendous speed, with everything done on the run, on the fly. People have no time to listen to one another, or even to listen to themselves. This impatience leads to outbursts of anger and rage. Being constantly under stress worsens the already slim chances of mutual understanding. Instead, we must work on our character traits; let us yield to one another and listen to one another. After all, trying at all costs to shout down the other person and prove ourselves right generally leaves them with no desire to listen at all.

With the right attitude, small problems will stay small and can easily be resolved together—if we do not blow them out of proportion.

Minor troubles can snowball and lead to divorce, G-d forbid. Often, when a divorce case is examined, many minor problems come to light, even though tolerance toward one another could have smoothed over and minimized all these rough edges.

We women are changeable beings, subject to hormonal surges: pregnancy, childbirth, monthly changes in mood, or some problem with a child can throw us off balance. Often, when we are in this state, we may explode and say far too much—words we would never have uttered in our usual "calm" state. But "a word is not a sparrow: once it flies out, you cannot catch it." A word is like an arrow: you cannot bring it back, and we cannot predict how it will wound.

The "Shulchan Aruch" says that we are obligated to approach anyone we have hurt and ask their forgiveness. Family life constantly presents opportunities to apologize. First, as we said, husband and wife are opposites that attract; second, there are the children, and there is no shame in asking their forgiveness too if we have hurt them.

Reconciliation should be proportionate to the hurt, just as a remedy should suit the wound.

If it is only a scratch and we notice it in time, we apply iodine, cover it with an adhesive bandage, and with G-d's help it will heal. If, however, we let the wound become inflamed, if we fail to pay attention to the problem in time, pus will appear, the infection will spread farther, a fever will develop, and the whole body will be in danger. More serious treatment will be needed, lengthy and costly.

A hurt is nothing more than a scratch on another person's soul. While the hurt is still fresh, we need to hurry to heal it, to make peace with our husband or child. If we have wounded deeply, touched a sore spot, and it is more than just a scratch, the remedy must be more serious too. We need to think about exactly what kind of apology will be required of us. And to do that, we must put ourselves in the injured person's place.

Sometimes we feel that we have not said anything out of the ordinary.

We would not even take offense at such words ourselves. But we are required to "put ourselves in the other person's shoes" and feel why those words hurt them. Then we will understand what sort of apology they expect.

Once a couple came to our home wanting my husband to help them reconcile. They sat in the living room, while I was in the kitchen and tried not to listen, but it was impossible because they were speaking louder and louder. Each recalled all the hurts the other had caused. They grew increasingly worked up, having found an "appreciative listener" in my husband. Although he tried to stop the torrent of words and asked, "All right, we have heard each other out; now let's think about how to go on living. Let's see what can be done." But they did not want to reconsider anything—only to wallow in past hurts. They hardly let my husband get a word in… And that was how they left—each with their own cherished grievances.

Reconciliation takes a great deal of strength.

We devote our energy to what matters to us. If peace in the home matters to us, we must pause amid the flow of grievances and think about how to keep our home from falling apart. Considerable effort will be needed at every stage of reconciliation: stopping ourselves in the cycle of resentment, assessing what matters more to me, finding the strength to meet our spouse halfway, asking for forgiveness, and accepting an apology. But for someone who only wants to win at any cost, emerge as the one who is "right," and point a finger at those to blame, this is a dead end. It leads nowhere.

This couple did not want to think about a future together. They wanted only to accuse one another, only to pour out everything that had built up, to win an argument that had lasted for years—and let it all crumble to dust. No one but they themselves can save their marriage. Building a Jewish home requires building… bridges. As many as possible. After every quarrel.

to be continued

Prepared by Mrs. Zissi Skarzhinskaya