Let’s face it:
Some of the deepest wounds don’t come from strangers. They come from those closest to us.
Our siblings.
We often laugh off sibling rivalry as harmless childhood competition. But for many, those rivalries don’t fade with age. They grow. The disagreements deepen. The silences lengthen. The resentment, when unspoken and unhealed, becomes part of the family history no one wants to revisit.
The truth? Many of the conflicts in our world—big or small—mirror the same emotions found in sibling rivalry: Jealousy. Anger. Insecurity. Betrayal.
Think back to the first family in the Bible: Cain and Abel.
Two brothers. One killed the other. Why? Jealousy.
A seed of comparison, left unchecked, grew into violence.
Later, we see the story of Joseph and his brothers. Joseph, sold into slavery by his own blood, rises to power and ultimately forgives those who wronged him. Why?
"You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good."
– Genesis 50:20
Joseph’s forgiveness didn’t erase the betrayal. But it freed him from it. And in doing so, he saved a family and fed a nation.
If you carry a heavy burden of the past—anger, jealousy, sadness, regret—you will experience more of the same.
The past repeats itself when there is no shift.
But forgiveness is that shift.
"Forgiveness opens up the dialogue for change."
When we forgive, we stop feeding the cycle.
We create room for new conversations, for peace, for healing.
Desmond Tutu, who spent his life reconciling deep divisions in South Africa, said:
"Without forgiveness, there can be no future."
He saw forgiveness not as excusing injustice, but as choosing freedom from bitterness.
In his Book of Forgiving, he teaches that forgiveness is a path—a journey that begins with truth, moves through pain, and ends with release.
He reminds us:
"Forgiveness is not weakness; it is how we become strong."
The Dalai Lama, another great spiritual voice, echoes this same truth:
"Forgiveness is a sign of strength."
He teaches that it takes courage and self-discipline to truly forgive—especially when we feel justified in our pain.
From The Wisdom of Forgiveness, he reminds us:
“Anger, attachment, and arrogance are the real enemies.”
Not the person who wronged you—but the anger you carry. That is the burden that wears you down.
Holding onto anger doesn’t hurt the person who caused it.
It hurts you.
Forgiveness is not forgetting.
It’s choosing not to let that anger rule your life anymore.
True strength lies in forgiveness.
Devout American Muslim Hamza Yusuf mirrors the Dalai Lama when he says:
“Choose kindness over revenge.”
Catholic Pope Francis consistently emphasizes forgiveness as a core Christian value, describing it as essential for healing and peace, and urging believers to imitate God’s boundless mercy.
He uses powerful imagery, comparing forgiveness to:
“Oxygen that purifies the air of hatred,”
and
“An antidote to the poison of resentment.”
Forgiveness is not just a personal virtue.
It’s a social necessity—one that cleanses relationships and cultures alike.
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, is a special time to forgive and reconcile.
Each person has their own style, but one powerful way to ask for forgiveness is:
"I give my forgiveness to you, whether actions or words are known or unknown. In turn, I ask that you forgive me. If I have hurt or offended you this past year, knowingly or unknowingly, forgive me for any wrongs I may have caused. Help me to be a better person."
This 'new year' in the autumn is about seeking forgiveness.
And it’s a time for renewing the heart, embracing humility, and striving for a better future.
Hoʻoponopono, a Hawaiian tradition of healing and reconciliation, teaches:
"To make right" is to restore harmony.
Rooted in responsibility, it calls each person to own their part in any conflict—not with blame, but with humility.
The practice moves through four powerful intentions:
"I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you."
Hoʻoponopono isn’t just about resolving issues—
it’s about clearing the heart, choosing compassion, and reclaiming peace.
Forgiveness has two distinct parts: the one who offers it, and the one to whom it is offered—and who may or may not accept.
Forgiveness extended is not the same as forgiveness received.
Just because someone offers forgiveness does not mean the other person accepts it.
Forgiveness is a gesture made for the sake of peace, clarity, or healing.
The recipient may not be ready, may not feel remorse, or may not even recognize the harm done. In some cases, the offer may be met with silence or outright rejection.
Forgiveness is not a transaction. It does not require mutual agreement.
The offer and the acceptance exist independently.
One can forgive without reconciliation.
One can be offered forgiveness and still carry guilt, resistance, or denial.
This distinction matters. It honors the complexity of human relationships and reminds us that healing—on either side—is never guaranteed, and never owed.
Forgiveness is an invitation, not a demand. A beginning, not always a conclusion.
What if your sibling is gone, and you never forgave them—or they never asked?
You still can.
You must—for you.
Forgiveness is not for the offender. It’s for the one who’s ready to heal.
It’s a spiritual and emotional decision to release your own pain, even when the story feels incomplete.
Whether or not they ever apologized, you don’t have to carry the past.
You can forgive someone who has passed away.
You can release them—and yourself—from the weight of it all.
"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."
– Lewis B. Smedes
Many siblings fall into the “Death Rift”—a silence that follows the passing of a parent.
Old conflicts, long buried, bubble up.
Grief reveals everything that was never resolved.
But ask yourself:
Is this how you want to carry forward the legacy of those you lost?
Would your parent want their children fractured?
Would they want your last memory of each other to be bitterness?
You have the power to write a different story.
You may be thinking, “But they haven’t asked.”
Or, “They don’t deserve it.”
But that’s not the point.
Forgiveness isn’t about what they deserve—it’s about what you need.
Peace. Freedom. Healing.
“Everything you say should be true, but not everything true should be said.”
– Voltaire
Sometimes the most powerful words are the ones we whisper to ourselves.
“I forgive you now.”
Say it aloud. Write it in a letter. Speak it in prayer.
Whether they hear it or not—your soul will.
It takes strength to say:
“You hurt me. But I release you.”
“I hurt you. But I choose to make it right.”
“I forgive you now.”
That’s the message shared with you today:
Forgiveness is freedom. Forgiveness is strength.
Forgiveness is peace.