7 takeaways from this study

Our journey begins in Genesis 49–50, where we see the culmination of Yosef’s story. After years of betrayal, suffering, and eventual rise to power in Egypt, Yosef faces his brothers once more. This time, after their father Ya’akov (Jacob) has died. The brothers, fearful that Yosef will now seek revenge, send a message begging for forgiveness (Genesis 50:15-17).

Yosef’s response is remarkable. He weeps, and then reassures them:

“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good in order to bring about this present result, to preserve many people alive. So therefore, do not be afraid; I will provide for you and your little ones.”

This is not just a story of family drama. It’s a model of forgiveness (סָלַח salah, “to forgive, to pardon”) and restoration that echoes throughout the TaNaKh and into the New Covenant (Jeremiah 31:31–34).

Moving to Zechariah 14, we see a prophetic vision of the ultimate restoration, where the nations gather for the festival of Sukkot (Tabernacles), and Adonai’s presence is restored among His people. This is a vision of global reconciliation, where the world is invited to dwell with God once more (Zechariah 14:16).

The festival of Sukkot is not just a rehearsal for Israel, but a rehearsal for the world — a time when heaven’s desire is to “dwell in the midst of the people” (cf. Exodus 25:8). This longing for restoration is at the heart of the Messianic hope.

In Luke 23, we encounter Yeshua in the midst of His greatest suffering. Betrayed, abandoned, and facing execution, He utters words that mirror Yosef’s forgiveness:

But Yeshua was saying, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Here, the Greek word for “forgive” is ἀφίημι aphiēmi, meaning “to release, to let go.” This is the same root used for the release of debts in the Jubilee year (יובל yovel) and the sabbatical year (שְׁמִטָּה shemitah).

Yeshua’s act of forgiveness is not just personal—it’s cosmic. It’s the release of humanity’s debts, the proclamation of the acceptable year of the Lord (Isaiah 61:1-2; Luke 4:18-19).

Forgiveness, as modeled by Yosef and Yeshua, requires humility (עָנָה anah, “to humble oneself”). In Leviticus 16, during Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), the people are commanded to “humble your souls” (Leviticus 16:29). This act of humility is the foundation for both seeking and granting forgiveness.

The prophets speak of a new covenant, where God will “write His law upon our hearts” (Jeremiah 31:33) and give us a new spirit (Ezekiel 36:26). This internal transformation is what enables us to forgive as we have been forgiven.

Yosef’s refusal to hold a grudge is codified in the Torah’s “golden rule”:

“You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the sons of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the LORD.”

Forgiveness is not just about letting go of past hurts—it’s about choosing to love, even when it’s difficult. It’s about refusing to carry the weight of old wrongs, and instead, extending the same mercy we hope to receive.

A fascinating rabbinic discussion arises from Numbers 14:19, where Moses pleads, “Please pardon (סָלַח, salah) the iniquity of this people.” The rabbis noted the repetition of “please” (נָא, na) three times, leading to the principle that one should ask for forgiveness up to three times.

But Yeshua takes it further. When Peter asks, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Yeshua replies:

“I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”

This is not about keeping score. It’s about cultivating a heart that is always ready to forgive.

Yeshua illustrates this principle with the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:23-35). A servant, forgiven an unpayable debt, refuses to forgive a fellow servant a much smaller debt. The master’s response is sobering:

“Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?”

The message is clear: If we want to receive forgiveness, we must be willing to extend it to others.

The concept of release (יובל yovel; ἀφίημι, aphiēmi) is central to both Torah and Gospel. In Leviticus 25, the Jubilee year is proclaimed:

You shall thus consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim a release through the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you, and each of you shall return to his own property, and each of you shall return to his family.

This is the inscription on the Liberty Bell: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”

Yeshua, in Luke 4 and quoting from Isaiah 61, declares the fulfillment of this promise:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord.”

The Jubilee is not just an economic or social institution. It’s a spiritual reality, fulfilled in Messiah.

Forgiveness is not just a private matter — it’s essential for the health of the community. Paul writes:

Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.

And again:

So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you.

In a world that often clings to grudges and practices “cancel culture,” the call to radical mercy and reconciliation is countercultural—and desperately needed.

Forgiveness does not mean the absence of boundaries. The Torah teaches the importance of “boundary stones” (Deuteronomy 19:14), respecting each person’s domain. While we are called to let go of grudges, we are also called to exercise wisdom, especially when dealing with unrepentant or harmful behavior.

As Yeshua taught, forgiveness is always available, but true repentance (תְּשׁוּבָה teshuvah, “turning, returning”) is about a genuine change of direction—not just a “get out of jail free” card.

Modern society often struggles with forgiveness. As Douglas Murray and others have noted, we live in a time when past mistakes can be held over someone’s head forever. The Bible calls us to something radically different: to recognize genuine repentance, to offer second chances, and to refuse to define people by their worst moments.

Heaven’s approach is not to forget our sins, but to choose not to hold them against us (Jeremiah 31:34). This is the model we are called to imitate.

Ultimately, the message of forgiveness and restoration points us to the Messianic hope — the return to our true inheritance. As John writes:

And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.

The מִשְׁכָּן Mishkan (“tabernacle”) in the wilderness was a foreshadowing of God’s desire to dwell among His people. In Messiah, this promise is fulfilled, and we are invited to participate in the restoration of all things (Acts 3:21).

So what does this mean for us, practically?

As we reflect on the stories of Yosef and Yeshua, the prophetic visions of Zechariah, and the teachings of the apostles, we are reminded that forgiveness is at the heart of God’s plan for humanity. It is the key to restoration, the foundation of community, and the path to true freedom.

May we, as followers of Messiah, be known as people who forgive, who restore, and who embody the radical mercy of Heaven. May we proclaim liberty throughout the land—not just with our words, but with our lives.