BY RABBI YOSEF ZVI RIMON

The Gemara states: “Rava said: Whoever forgoes his reckonings with others for injustices done to him, the heavenly court in turn forgoes punishment for all his sins, as it states: ‘He bears iniquity and passes over transgression’ (Micha 7:18). Whose sins does He bear? The sins of one who forgoes his reckonings with others for injustices committed against him” (Rosh Hashanah 17a).

Rashi explains: “‘One who overlooks personal slights’ – one who is not meticulous in measuring measure for measure against those who cause him distress, and abandons his strict standards and moves on, ‘his transgressions are overlooked’ – the attribute of justice is not meticulous with him, but rather abandons pursuing his sins and moves on.”

This is the principle of middah keneged middah – measure for measure. If we are willing to forgive and overlook the faults of those around us, even when they hurt or inconvenience us, then G-d does the same for us. But if we are harsh and exacting toward others, we invite the same treatment in return. The more we cultivate a spirit of forgiveness, the more that spirit surrounds us, both from above and from those around us.

Daily life is filled with small annoyances: someone cuts the line, takes our parking spot, slams a door just as we’re falling asleep. These moments are not just tests – they are opportunities. Each one is a gift, a chance to forgo resentment and earn divine compassion. As the sages teach: one who overlooks the faults of others finds that Heaven, too, overlooks his own.

The special power of one who overlooks personal slights appears in another teaching. “Those who are insulted but do not insult, who hear their disgrace but do not respond, about them the verse says: ‘But those who love Him are like the sun rising in its might’ (Shoftim 5:31).” (Shabbat 88b)

At first glance, the Gemara seems to praise those who aren’t bothered by insults. But Rav Kook points out something deeper: the Gemara is not describing people who don’t feel insulted – it’s praising those who do feel the pain of being insulted, yet choose not to strike back.

“There are some moral teachings that weaken a person’s bold life force… but that is not the way of the Torah. The Torah’s path is that the soul should be strong, that our sense of dignity and the pain we feel when insulted should remain part of our full spiritual structure. This pain is appropriate for a human being created in the image of G-d – it reflects the nobility of the soul. But here lies the greatness: even with all the clarity and intensity of that pain – even though they are genuinely insulted – their moral sense and love for others is so strong that they refuse to respond with harm. They use the very force of the insult, the very sting they feel, to strengthen their self-restraint. They hold themselves back from causing pain, even to those who just caused them pain” (Ein Ayah, Shabbat 9:83).

Human nature is such that when someone is insulted, they feel the sting. This is actually a healthy trait – it reflects the fact that a person has self-worth. When others humiliate him or fail to recognize his value, it is natural to feel hurt. Therefore, the greatness of those who are “insulted but do not insult” is not that they never feel insulted, but that even when they are insulted – they choose not to respond in kind.

Often, a person who has been hurt or angered will lash out at the one who hurt them, hoping to ease their pain or to get revenge by inflicting even greater hurt in return. But the heroism of those who are insulted and do not insult lies precisely in this: they do feel the pain of the insult, and yet their love for others is so powerful that they refuse to hurt back. Because they know how deeply an insult wounds, they consciously choose not to inflict that pain on someone else. They may respond to the hurt, even explain to the offender why their behavior was wrong – but they do so calmly, without striking back or causing humiliation. They speak with clarity, not cruelty.

We can learn a powerful lesson about yielding from a simple act we perform three times a day. At the end of the Amidah prayer, we take three steps backward. Why?

Rambam writes: “When one finishes the prayer, he bows and steps three steps backward… and they established that one should depart from prayer as one departs from before a king” (Mishneh Torah, Tefillah 5:10–11). In other words, stepping back is a sign of respect and reverence toward the King – toward G-d.

However, I once heard a deeper explanation: when a road becomes blocked and traffic is at a standstill, the only way to resolve the jam is for one or more drivers to reverse. Likewise, before we say “He makes peace” at the end of the Amidah, we step backward. Why? Because peace sometimes requires us to yield. It demands that we give others space, step aside, and allow room for everyone to move forward. Only after stepping back can we truly say: “He makes peace.”

 

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon is the Nasi of World Mizrachi. He is the Founder and Chairman of Sulamot and La’Ofek, and serves as the Chief Rabbi of Gush Etzion, and Rosh Yeshivah of the Jerusalem College of Technology.