Apologies and explanations

If you are ever offered the opportunity to attend an embassy party, take it. Go with some friends and arrive a little early to get a good sense of the event. Not only do they usually offer the best food that particular country has to offer, sometimes even flown in that day for the purpose of you enjoying it, but they are also fantastic places to meet some very interesting people. 

Some years ago, when I lived in Washington, D.C., I attended one of these events and met a young Egyptian diplomat who had just arrived in the U.S. As we were chatting, he realized from the context of the conversation that he was speaking to a Jew. He took my hand in both of his, and with eyes that began to tear up said very sincerely, “I’m so very sorry, it wasn’t until last week when I arrived in the U.S. that I learned that your people defeated mine in the Ramadan War.” Even after I explained that I was American and not Israeli, and he said that while he understood that not all Jews are Israelis and not all Israelis are Jews, he went on to explain how learning of Egypt’s defeat was such a great shock to him. Despite having come from a background of privilege and a seemingly excellent formal education, he had grown up being taught that it had been a decisive victory for Egypt and a resounding defeat for Israel. I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. I had grown up learning that the Yom Kippur War was a tremendous victory for Israel and the U.S. as part of the proxy war with the Soviet Union. Thankfully his diplomatic skills were more polished than mine, and he was able to move the conversation to a shared interest in the history of Egypt.

This year marks the 40th anniversary of the war that began on Yom Kippur of 1973 when, with Soviet support, Egypt and Syria led a coalition of Arab states against Israel. By all accounts, it was a significant Israeli tactical victory that was also a game-changer in the region.  This victory enabled the ensuing peace process that resulted in the first time an Arab nation peacefully recognized the state of Israel. Anwar El Sadat, the president of Egypt, entered into peaceful negotiations with Israel that led to Israel giving the Sinai Peninsula, which it had captured from Egypt in 1967, back to Egypt in exchange for peaceful recognition and relations. Despite not being the warmest relationship, the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt still stands today. God willing, it will stand forever and inspire more peaceful relationships in the region.

When we had that conversation, it was not quite 30 years past the Yom Kippur War, and each year around this time I recall that random conversation at a party and how it caught me off guard. Growing up in the Cold War, we were taught in school how the Soviets taught a distorted version of history behind the Iron Curtain, yet I had never expected that to be such a part of someone’s experience that when they learned what had been taught to them as a child was a distortion of history, they would feel compelled to publicly apologize to a complete stranger as soon as the opportunity presented itself. While I was very confused by it at the time, I appreciated the courage it took for him to express what was clearly his deeply felt and personal pain.

What does it take to apologize to someone as a proxy for a national wrong? Is it less difficult to ask for forgiveness when the wrong is personal rather than national? Can one then apologize to an entire nation (when one isn’t a national figure)? Do we apologize for acts committed by others for which they will never be offered an apology from those who hurt them? Do we owe an apology to the people of Syria, Sudan or Mali for the ongoing violence in those countries? And if we don’t, who does? 

It can be challenging to see what the scope of an apology should be, particularly when there is no statute of limitations on pain. Prior to the start of Yom Kippur this Friday night, the day when Jews atone for any sins they may have committed against God this past year, many people will ask apologies of those whom they have personally wronged as well. Those apologies, offered with a sincere and open heart, should hopefully be accepted as people release whatever pain and resentment they were holding against those whom had hurt them. Sometimes people don’t even release the depth of the injury until they’re confronted with the apology, but that will hopefully begin the path to healing. 

As we enter this season, let us hope we have not only the strength to forgive those who may have wronged us, but also the courage to offer apologies to those whom we have wronged. The courage to act is no small thing, whether on a personal or global scale. 

Jeremy Yoskowitz is the campus rabbi and assistant director for Jewish life. His column runs every other Thursday. Send Rabbi Jeremy a message on Twitter @TheDukeRav.