She Betrayed Me. How Can I Not Hold a Grudge?

She was your best friend. Or at least, you believed she was. Years of shared memories, late-night heart-to-heart conversations, and mutual acts of kindness had convinced you that your bond was unshakable.

Then one day, you discover she betrayed your trust. In a pivotal moment when a single word from her could have helped you or ruined everything, she chose to speak critically about you—and because of her words, you lost a precious opportunity.

The next time she texts, you don’t reply. You start avoiding the Pilates class where you both usually show up. But silence and avoidance can only last so long, and in any case, they don’t really satisfy you.

You don’t want revenge. You tell yourself that you are better than that. But neither can you simply forget. One day, you think, she’ll need a favor from you again. And you will do it—without hesitation. You’ll help her. But you’ll also remind her that, unlike her, you are a moral person: someone who knows how to stand by friends, even friends who failed to show loyalty in return.

The Torah, however, has a problem with your plan. Immediately after the prohibition against taking revenge comes a second commandment: the prohibition against bearing a grudge. "You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD."

Not planning revenge is difficult enough, but not holding a grudge? How can that be expected from us, mere humans?

Great scholars through the ages, while recognizing the difficulty of this mitzva, offered a few different pathways that make it possible for us, without turning into angels, to still avoid keeping a grudge. In his book Mesillat Yesharim, the Ramchal explains that the way to overcome the impulse to bear a grudge is through deep intellectual recognition. First, he argues that most grudges stem from injuries related to material or temporary matters. Once a person understands that all matters of this world are "vanity and emptiness," there is no reason to harbor resentment because of them. Secondly, He writes that a person must accustom themselves to overlook their personal grievances (le'ha'avir al midotav), out of the understanding that social peace and closeness to God are far more important than the minor personal justice that was compromised.

The Sefer HaChinnuch offers a different approach: "Everything is from the hand of God”. He explains that when someone causes us distress or refuses to help us, we must know that this came upon us by Divine decree. The other person is merely the "messenger" through whom the act was carried out.

The Chafetz Chaim has yet another method. In his writings, the Chafetz Chaim brings a profound parable originating from the Jerusalem Talmud: If a person accidentally cuts their left hand while holding a knife in their right hand, will the left hand strike the right hand in revenge? Of course not, because both belong to the same body. All of Israel are one body, he says. Since all souls of Israel are interconnected, bearing a grudge against a fellow is essentially bearing a grudge against a part of oneself. Once one lives with this sense of unity, holding a grudge becomes illogical.

These beautiful explanations may persuade us of the wisdom behind the prohibition against bearing a grudge. But educating our emotions is often much harder than correcting our thoughts. We can understand, on an intellectual level, why our resentment is misguided—and still struggle to let it go.

So what can we do? Returning to the case of the friend who failed us, how can we free ourselves from lingering bitterness?

The Orchot Tzadikim offers a practical solution. The most effective way to overcome resentment toward another person is to speak positively about them and act toward them with kindness. Over time, our words and actions can reshape our inner world: the kindness we show externally slowly transforms the feelings we carry within, allowing resentment to fade.

Of course, none of it is easy. The verse commanding us not to bear a grudge, ends with the words: “I am the LORD”. Why? The Kli Yakar offers a profound psychological explanation. The Torah is aware that according to human nature, it is nearly impossible for a person not to bear a grudge against someone who has caused them distress. Doing so goes against a person's natural sense of honor and justice.

Therefore, the Torah concludes with the words, "I am the Lord"—to tell you: in order to reach such a level of heartfelt forgiveness, you must act above human nature, out of absolute submission to the Divine commandment. It is as if God is saying: "I know that this is difficult, but do it because I, the Lord, have commanded you, and I give you the spiritual strength to transcend your own nature."

There are many rewards to learning not to bear a grudge. We gain a clearer sense of what truly matters and what does not. We strengthen our faith in God, and we become more deeply aware of the bond that unites all Jews. But we also receive a unique divine gift: the strength to transcend our own nature. And so, instead of reminding others of their smallness, we remind ourselves of our own capacity for greatness.