I am a real estate broker. I gather information about sellers, locate buyers, and, b’siyata diShmaya, bring about deals that please everyone, including myself. I certainly earn my salary, with all the work I invest to bring two sides to sign a contract.
One of the people I dealt with was a friend of mine from way back. He received excellent service, closed on the deal, got his money, and then forgot about me.
I reminded him that he owed me money. At first he nodded and said the money would come, and later on he said he thought the price was too high. I told him this was the going rate, and we could go to a din Torah, and the beis din would certainly obligate him to pay me. At this point, he simply avoided me; he did everything he could so as not to meet me.
I was upset about the money I had lost, but I told myself that my heart was worth more than money, and the constant running after him was not doing any good for my health. I decided to stop running after him. I would not initiate any meetings with him anymore, nor attempt to reach him by phone, nor run after him in any way whatsoever. However, if I would happen to meet him, then I would not be lazy; I would ask for what was rightfully coming to me.
One day when it was time for Minchah, I went to a shul that I usually do not frequent, and I came face-to-face with the man who owed me money. I spoke to him like a friend and reminded him of his old debt. He reacted by raising his voice and displaying anger at a level I never even knew existed. We quickly became a subject of interest for anyone coming in to the shul. He claimed I was running after him and ruining his life, and what did I want from him! And he rained down upon me curses and bad words. I have no way of remembering exactly what else he said, since at that moment I lifted my feet and ran away from there.
I did not say one word to him. Not one word about all the work I had done for him and the efforts I had invested in him in a field that is my source of income. Not one word about the fact that he was at fault in this whole episode. He is the one who raised his voice and almost raised his hand, while I spoke peacefully and only reminded him of what he needed to know.
“Those who are insulted and do not insult...,” I told myself. This time I was zocheh to be included in this supreme description, and to illuminate the world like the sun at its peak; but I did not feel any light in my heart. For me, it was dark and painful and hard and insulting. The sight of the people who had gathered and were looking intently at me as I was being humiliated and treated like dust returned to my mind’s eye again and again. I came home and cried like a small child.
Several hours passed. Night fell upon the city and upon all the apartments I had brokered and upon others that I would mediate, with Hashem’s help, in the future. I went out to breathe some fresh air and to feel the wind that Hashem sent to caress my face. Do I always do only good? Did I not ever make mistakes? Did I not ever stumble? How much had my deeds caused Hakadosh Baruch Hu pain? How much did I ask again and again, night and morning and afternoon, “Forgive me, my Father, for I sinned”? And Hakadosh Baruch Hu is a King Who forgives, Who answers my cries and forgives all my sins. I decided to attach myself to His middos, and I would forgive the man who owed me money! Clearly, his outburst didn’t come from a place of pleasure and inner peace. It was quite likely that he was in pain, and therefore it was difficult for him to be reminded of his debt. Yes, yes. The good wind and the pleasant air, the beauty of Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s world, strengthened me, and I felt that, indeed, this was what was appropriate for me to do: to emulate the middos of Hashem and to forgive.
How much thanks there is to be given for a moment of such inner he’arah! “I forgive the man who owes me money, for everything,” I said with conviction to the dark horizon. “Not only for the shame of today, but also for the entire debt! I hereby forgive him with complete forgiveness, and from this point on he owes me nothing. His debt is as though it never was; it does not exist, and it is lost and nullified from the world.”
In order to make this complete without a shadow of doubt, I sent a messenger to him to inform him that his debt was completely erased.
Several months passed. A spirit of purity hovered over everything. It was Erev Yom Kippur, and I got a phone call from this Yid who no longer owed me any money. He apologized for his behavior and asked me to accept a compromise and allow him to pay half the sum.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I reminded him. “I forgave you with complete forgiveness for the debt, and you can be calm. Really. Go into Yom Kippur happily, with a good feeling.
