In the Gates of Repentance it is written: ”I hereby forgive all who have hurt me, all who have wronged me, whether deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account. And as I forgive and pardon those who have wronged me, may those whom I have harmed forgive me, whether I acted deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed.” Amen…
Yeshua taught us to pray “forgive us as we forgive others,” which implies that our forgiveness (of others) is the measure of our own forgiveness. In other words, as we forgive others, so we experience forgiveness ourselves… Forgiveness releases the hurt, the anger, and the disappointment so these feelings do not inwardly consume and exhaust our souls. And yet forgiveness must be self-directed, too, since refusing to forgive yourself denies or negates the forgiveness given from others. Forgiving yourself means admitting that you act just like other people, that you are human, and that you are in need of reconciliation too. We have to move on, past the shame, and to turn back to hope. As a Yiddish proverb puts it, “You are what you are, not what you were…”
It is written, “in many things we offend all,” and therefore we must confess our sins one to another to find healing (James 5:16). However the practice of love overlooks a multitude of sins, and if we do not condemn those who offend us, then we will not need to forgive them for their offenses. Walking in God’s love sets us free from the slavery of negative emotions such as resentment, bitterness, anger, unresolved grief, and so on.
I love this affirmation and prayer attributed to Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 263-339 AD): “May I be the friend of that which is eternal and abides. May I never quarrel with those nearest me; and if I do, may we be reconciled quickly. May I never devise evil against anyone; and if any devise evil against me, may I escape uninjured and without any desire to hurt them. May I love, seek, and attain only that which is good. May I wish for the happiness of all and the misery of none. May I never rejoice in the ill-fortune of one who has wronged me. When I have done or said what is wrong, may I never wait for the rebuke of others, but always rebuke myself until I make amends.”
“May I, to the extent of my ability, give all needful help to my friends and to all who are in want. May I never fail a friend in danger. When visiting those in grief, may I be able by gentle and healing words to soften their pain. May I respect myself. May I always keep tame that which rages within me. May I accustom myself to be gentle, and never be angry with people because of circumstances. May I never discuss who is wicked and what wicked things he has done, but know good men and follow their footsteps.” Amen.
Hebrew Lesson:
The commandments of God are usually divided between the rational laws (i.e., mishpatim) and the divine decrees (i.e., chukkim), though this distinction is somewhat artificial, since all of the commandments of Torah (and that includes the Torah of the New Covenant) are grounded in the mystery of God’s will, which is to say that we are to obey them simply because they derive from the Divine Authority itself… When the people gathered before Moses to receive the covenant at Mount Sinai, they said all the LORD has spoken “we will do and we will hear” (na’aseh ve’nishmah: נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע). Note the order: first comes faith in God expressed in the decision to act (na’aseh), and then comes understanding (ve’nishmah). As Yeshua said, “If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will understand” (John 7:17). The heart of faith is willing to do what God asks before hearing (or understanding) what is required. Many people operate the other way round, sitting in judgment of God’s word, demanding to understand why they should obey. You cannot understand apart from faith, however, and that is categorically true of all forms of knowledge, which is usually defined as “justified true belief.” We are to be “doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving ourselves” (James 1:22). The Greek verb used in this verse is emphatic: “Be doers!” (γίνεσθε) means “be born!” “Come alive!” “Do, live, and exist before God!” This is a call to creative action, to newness of life…
In the summer there occurs a three week period of mourning that begins with the 
King Solomon wrote, “The fear of the LORD adds days [to life], but the years of the wicked will be cut short” (Prov. 10:27). The sages have said that these “added days” of life include the appointed times and seasons (i.e., the moedim) when the veil of “everydayness” is lifted and we can glimpse the sacred. Living in dissonance with God’s will yields days that are shortened – by vanity, by dissipation, and by despair. And what good are length of days when they are filled with emptiness and illusion? As Solomon also concluded in his great scroll of Kohelet, fearing God and keeping his commandments is the “end of the matter” (סוֹף דָּבָר) and the “whole duty” of our lives (Eccl. 12:13).
Reflecting on the role of suffering in the heart of faith, Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote: “Here is the decisive difference between Christianity and all religions. Man’s religiosity makes him look in his distress to the power of God in the world: God is the deus ex machina [i.e., “quick fix”]. The Bible [on the other hand] directs man to God’s powerlessness and suffering: only a suffering God can help” (Letters and Papers from Prison). Bonhoeffer’s comment alludes to the difference between an “Elohim” (אֱלהִים) conception of God as the omnipotent power and Judge of reality, and the “YHVH” (יהוה) conception of God as the compassion Source and Breath of life – the Suffering God who empties himself to partake of our condition – to know our pain, to bear our sorrows, to heal us from the sickness of spiritual death, and to touch us in the loneliness of our exile… The Spirit enables us to “groan” in compassion, directing us away from the impulse to “kill the pain” to accept it as part of our lament and need for connection with God.
“If I say, surely darkness covers me … the night shines as the day; nothing hides from your radiance” (Psalm 139:11-12). We have to trust that God is in our darkness, in the silence, in the unknown… You come out of the shadows when you admit that you act just like other people, that you are human, in need of reconciliation yourself… Above all you need God. You need help. You need a miracle to help you to truly love. You may find excuses for many things, but you cannot escape the “wretched man that I am” reality that is grounded in your fears. God sees in the darkness and is present there, too. When you feel alone, like an unbridgeable gulf lay between you and all that is good; when you feel like you want to scream but are afraid that even then no one would hear, may the LORD shine His light upon you…
Contact with the dead causes spiritual impurity (i.e., tumah) because death, as the separation from life, is the ultimate expression and consequence of sin. People routinely deny the meaning of death, explaining it away as the result of some cause from which one might escape (“he worked too hard,” “she got sick,” “it was an accident,” etc.). People rationalize death because they refuse to see it as the effect of sin, the consequence of the original transgression of Adam and Eve that humanity as a whole has “inherited” (Gen. 2:17; 3:19; Rom. 5:12). Therefore the Torah states that the birth of a child results in impurity (Lev. 12:2,7). Full atonement comes from “digging up the root of sin” by being purified from its source, namely, the curse of death itself. The Red Heifer alludes to the sin of the Golden Calf, which finds its source in the original idolatry of Adam and Eve. Even the blood of the sacrifice was burned to ash “outside the camp,” putting a complete end to the “life of death” and its power to corrupt. The Red Heifer is therefore a special sort of “sin offering” (chatat) that cleanses from contact with death itself (Num. 19:9).
“Everyone who is bitten, when he looks upon it, shall live” (Num. 21:8). The fiery serpent – the very sting of which brings death – is what must be looked upon, confronted, and confessed. We must look at that which kills us, and by seeing it, we can then see God’s miracle (נֵּס) that delivers us… Therefore we look to the cross – the place where Yeshua clothed himself with our sickness and sin – to realize God’s remedy for our eternal healing. As Yeshua explained to Nicodemus, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John 3:14-15). Humanity as a whole has been “bitten by the snake” and needs to be delivered from its lethal venom. Just as the image made in the likeness of the destroying snake was lifted up for Israel’s healing, so the One made in the likeness of sinful flesh (Rom. 8:3) was to be lifted up as the Healer of the world. In Yeshua the miraculous exchange takes place: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). Bless His holy name!
Our Torah portion this week (i.e., 
The sages say the verse, “Blessed is the person who fears always” (Prov. 28:14), means that whenever you want to do something, you should first soberly consider the consequences… If you do not think clearly, you will not fear, and such carelessness invariably leads to sin. The sacred is bound up with care; it sets boundaries between the profane and the holy. The “fear of the LORD” is expressed as vigilance against the lusts of the lower nature (yetzer ha’ra)… We “tremble” before God when we are awake to His holiness and wonder (Phil. 2:12). The Temple was destroyed because of our forefathers did not think about their actions; they first exiled themselves from the Divine Presence and then they “caught up with” the pain of their exile for themselves.