So recently at the funeral of Charlie
Kirk, something extraordinary happened.
His widow, Erica Kirk, stood before
nearly 90,000 people and forgave her
husband's killer just days after Charlie
was assassinated.
>> I forgive him.
>> And she said she was following Jesus's
words on the cross. Quote, "Father,
forgive them for they know not what they
do." She said, "The answer to hate is
not hate. The answer is love." And
people found it moving, noble,
inspiring.
Imagine that kind of strength to forgive
the man who murdered your husband. But
does Judaism agree with this approach?
The answer is a firm no. And the
difference tells us something profound
about what Judaism, what the Torah
thinks life is really all about. In
Christianity, as far as I can
understand, forgiveness is
unconditional. Why? because it flows
from this idea of grace. That no matter
what you've done, if you accept God's
grace, you're forgiven. CS Lewis once
said, "To be a Christian means to
forgive the inexcusable because God has
forgiven the inexcusable in you." And
this explains why Erica's funeral wasn't
just mourning. It was uplifting. There
was music. There was celebration.
Because if you believe Charlie Kirk is
in a better place in heaven, then his
death is not a tragedy, but a
transition. It's consistent. If
salvation is guaranteed by grace and
heaven is the real goal, then
forgiveness is automatic, death is
victory, and love is unconditional even
for enemies. And yet, I think there's
something in all of us, if we're honest
with ourselves, that recoils in this
music at a funeral, celebrating death,
forgiving a murderer who hasn't even
repented. Something feels wrong.
Something jars. Why?
Well, Judaism sees it very differently.
In Judaism, forgiveness is not
unconditional. It's not automatic.
It's not even mine to give unless the
wrongdoer repents. Unless he admits what
he did, unless he regrets it, unless he
asks for forgiveness. Because otherwise,
what exactly am I forgiving? The murder
itself, the pain it caused, the defiance
of God's will. And what about justice?
If forgiveness comes automatically
without accountability, then evil is
left unchallenged.
In Judaism, forgiveness without
repentance is not mercy. It's confusion.
Worse, it's cruelty. Because it tells
the sinner, "You don't have to change.
You don't have to take responsibility."
That's not good for me, and it's
certainly not good for him. Think about
this. If forgiveness is automatic, if
God will forgive anything, no matter
what, then life becomes meaningless.
Imagine in your marriage, you can betray
your spouse, lie, cheat, wound them, and
they'll forgive you no matter what. What
does that mean? It means your marriage
doesn't matter. Your relationship
doesn't matter. Your actions don't
matter. You don't matter. That is the
danger of unconditional forgiveness. It
removes the meaning from our
relationships. It makes a mockery of
human choice.
You can't love someone the whole time
and feel that same emotion chronically.
Otherwise, it's just a static
relationship.
It's not a real living one.
And this is exactly what the prophet
Jonah was afraid of. When God told Jonah
to go to Nineve to warn the people to
repent, Jonah ran the other way. Why?
Because he was terrified of a world
without justice and mercy alone. He
said, "If God just forgives
automatically, then our actions don't
matter. Our choices don't matter. Life
itself loses meaning. Jonah would rather
run away than live in a world of cheap
forgiveness for a group of people that
had committed terrible crimes." And that
fear, that deep human fear that our
actions don't matter, is what Judaism
insists must never happen. Mymones, the
Rambam, says it clearly. If someone
wrongs you and then sincerely asks for
forgiveness, don't be cruel. Don't hold
out. Forgive them with a full heart.
That's the Jewish way. But if they don't
repent, if they don't care, if they
don't resolve never to do it again, then
you're not required to forgive. In fact,
the says it's a mitzvah. It's a
commandment to hate persistent
evildoers. King David said, "Do I not
hate those who hate you, oh Lord?" So
yes, Judaism believes in forgiveness,
but forgiveness must be earned. It must
come after justice, after repentance.
Otherwise, it's not holy. It's a lie.
Now, let's be clear. There are many
evildoers today who don't even realize
they're e doing evil, who are ignorant,
uninformed, or maybe they just don't
have the awareness of the consequences
of their actions. So how we define what
someone is evil is proportionate to the
extent to which they understand that
which they're doing and the extent of
the evil they're doing. So it requires
some context taking these verses into
consideration. But nonetheless at the
same time we're not meant to have this
kind of static we love everything love
grace grace for all actions and all
people.
God has preferences. Now let me be
clear. Judaism does not say, "Sit in
your anger forever. Carry grudges. Live
with bitterness." No. The Torah
commands, "Do not hate your brother in
your heart." You should let go of
resentment. You should not let hate
poison you. But that's not the same as
forgiving someone who has not repented.
You can release your bitterness. You can
pray that your enemy changes. You can
hope that they turn from evil. But you
cannot forgive what they did until they
repent. Because forgiveness is not just
about your feelings. Forgiveness is
about truth. It's about justice. It's
about repairing what was broken. And
that requires the other person's
participation. And this difference
between Christianity and Judaism also
explains why our funerals can look quite
different. At Charlie Kirk's memorial,
just days after he was killed,
assassinated,
they had music, joy, and uplift. And I'd
imagine that in part that's because if
you think death means heaven and heaven
is the real goal, then it makes sense to
celebrate. But in Judaism, death is not
a celebration. Death is tragedy. Death
is considered unnatural. Death is an
intruder in God's world. That's why we
mourn. That's why we sit shiver, which
means we have a week of of mourning in
the uh immediate family's life. And
that's why we have schlushim a month of
mourning. That's why we mark a whole
year of mourning as well because grief
is essential. If you try to skip it, if
you try to plaster it over with
celebration, you will fill that void
later with something possibly more
destructive. And that's why Judaism says
no music at a funeral, no music in
mourning. Music is about harmony, about
different notes blending into one. But
when someone dies, the world is broken.
It is fragmented. It is not the time for
harmony.
There's a time for laughter and joy, and
there's a time for weeping and crying.
And most of all, that's why we don't say
the dead are in a better place. Yes,
heaven may be more comfortable, but it's
not better because Judaism is not about
escaping this world to get to heaven.
Judaism, the Torah, is about bringing
God down into this world. The Torah is
not about God saving us. It's about us
serving him. And this is a fundamental
difference. Other religions say life is
about salvation, about grace, about
heaven. So when someone dies, you
celebrate because they've reached the
goal. The Torah says life is about your
responsibility, about what you can do
for God. It's about action. It's about
mitzvah, commandment, divine
commandment, about bringing heaven down
to earth.
So when someone dies, we don't celebrate
because this world is where the action
is. This world is where we can serve
God. Heaven is a temporary retirement
home. Earth is the arena. That's why
Jews say to life to this world because
it's here, not there, that we can do
God's will. And that's why death is not
considered natural. It's not holy. It's
a necessary evil of a broken world that
needs fixing. And one day when the world
is repaired, death will disappear
because God's goal is not to take us to
heaven. It's for him to dwell here with
us on earth. And we believe that in the
end, earth will become the eternal abode
of God. And all the souls will be
resuscitated and brought back down to
earth. And now you see how it all fits
together. If you believe heaven is the
goal, then yes, forgive everyone. Be
joyous in death because none of this
world really matters. But if you believe
as Judaism does that this world matters,
that our choices matter, that God is
affected by what we do, it's a real
living relationship with him, then
forgiveness cannot be automatic because
then our actions don't matter. In the
Torah, forgiveness is real. It's
powerful. But it only comes after
justice, after repentance, after truth.
Otherwise, forgiveness isn't
forgiveness. It's denial. This isn't to
say we shouldn't take great comfort at
times of distress and grief that God has
some great master plan which we believe
he truly does.
But it also means that we are realistic
about the pain and challenge of this
world and we feel it and we lean into
it. So let's be clear. We admire Erica
Kirk's courage, her refusal to be
consumed by hate. It's noble. But
Judaism would say forgiveness must be
earned. Otherwise, life itself loses
meaning. Judaism says, "Let go of
hatred." Yes. Trust in God. Yes. Pray
for your enemies to change. Sure. But
don't forgive evil until it has
repented. Because forgiveness without
justice is not holy. It's confusion. And
forgiveness with justice, that's the
most beautiful thing in the world.
That's when relationships are restored.
That's when lives are repaired. That's
when the world itself becomes whole
again. And this brings us right to Yam
Kapor which is coming up soon. On Yam
Kapor, God doesn't say to us, I forgive
you automatically no matter what. He
doesn't say, "Don't worry, nothing
matters." No, on Yamapore, God says,
"Show me you care. Show me you take your
actions seriously. That you take our
relationship seriously. Show me what you
did matters enough to regret, to repair,
to change. That's why Yam Kapor is the
holiest day of the year. Because it's
not about cheap grace. It's about real
grace. Grace that comes after
responsibility,
forgiveness that comes after repentance,
mercy that comes after justice. And
that's why we read the book of Jonah on
Yamapore. Because Jonah ran away from
Ninve. He didn't want to live in a world
where forgiveness is automatic, where
actions don't matter. And God shows him,
no, forgiveness is real, but only when
people repent, when they change, when
they transform their lives. That's the
lesson of Jonah. And God says, even if
they have done so much wrong, if they're
going to take some responsibility,
shouldn't I then show them grace? That
is the lesson of Yamapore. And that's
why it's so powerful. Because when
you've done the work, when you've faced
your mistakes, when you've admitted your
wrongs and asked for forgiveness, then
you discover that God's love is endless,
that his mercy is real, but that also
your life and your decisions truly
matter to him. In fact, if you think
about it, if you love someone, that
means they can hurt you. If I say, "I
love you so much, but if you don't love
me, then I don't care. You can go to
hell. literally, then that's not love.
That's abuse. Love means if you're not
in relationship with me, I'm going to
miss you. I'm going to suffer. There is
no love without vulnerability.
If God truly loves us, then he's
vulnerable to our choices. How's that
for an idea? It's not that God's love is
unconditional. It's that our
relationship with him is unconditional.
So as we enter Yamipur, remember Judaism
doesn't ask us to pretend evil never
happened. It asks us to face it honestly
to repent and only then to forgive.
That's not weakness. That's not
confusion. That is justice and mercy
together. That is what makes forgiveness
holy. And that's why at the end of
Yamapore, we don't celebrate death. We
celebrate life. We say to life in this
world where our choices matter, where
our actions matter, and where
forgiveness, when it's real, has the
power to transform the world. I'm Ollie
Anisfeld and you're watching JTV. Before
we finish, I just want to share with you
something really important. We are told
that Israel's actions are the cause of
the Israeli Arab conflict. But we've
just released a groundbreaking
documentary proving that Arab Islamic
Jew hatred far predates Israel's
Reestablishment. This is a critical fact
that everyone needs to learn about. Have
a watch of our trailer for our new JTV
Plus documentary entitled Arab
Anti-semitism Before Israel's
Reestablishment. Picture yourself. It's
1834 and you're a Jew living in Svat,
which is a northern city in Israel, then
under the Ottoman Empire. Your family is
part of this ancient city's spiritual
heart for generations. You study Torah.
You trade in the market and live quietly
among your Arab neighbors. But one day,
a mob storms your street, shouting,
"Kill the Jews." Your home is looted,
your synagogue burned, your loved ones
beaten. This isn't about Israel. Israel
won't exist for 114 years. This isn't
about settlements, the IDF, or the 1948
displacements. This is raw, violent
hatred aimed at you for being a Jew. And
it's not just in Palestine. It's part of
a centuries old story of anti-semitism
woven into Arab and Islamic history from
the dawn of Islam to the streets of
Hebrron.
The claim that this conflict began with
Israel's creation, the Nakba, or modern
policies, is a farce. A distortion that
collapses under history's magnifying
glass. Welcome to JTV Plus. I'm Olly
Anisfeld, and today we're uncovering a
history too often buried. The relentless
anti-semitism among Arabs in Palestine
before 1948, rooted in a broader Arab
and Muslim hostility that began with
Islam's inception in the 7th century.
To watch this JTV Plus documentary and
access much more premium content, click
on the link in the video description.
