Isn't Forgiveness Wonderful? Not Always...

Koblenz is a large city in western Germany. Its name derives from the Latin term meaning "confluence of rivers." These rivers are the Moselle and Rhine which flow from northern Germany to the south. Rivers were the main arteries of commerce during periods when there were no trains or paved highways. Koblenz was thus a prominent commercial city.

The Koblenz community was a very established one. Jews were known to have lived there at least since the 12th century, in the Jewish quarter that was situated in the old city of Koblenz. Jews excelled in commerce due to the fact that they had relatives and acquaintances everywhere. Unlike the average non-Jewish villager whose entire family was born, lived, and died within the same few square miles, Jews were eternal wanderers. Every Jewish merchant had friends, acquaintances, and cousins in various towns, not only in the German states but also in France, Switzerland, and Holland. Jews trusted each other, and even a single trip by a Jewish merchant to a distant Jewish community invariably led to the formation of new bonds and agreements, especially when everything was done in good faith and according to halachah (Jewish law).

In the 17th century, the Jewish population in Koblenz expanded considerably, as did the number of merchants. Many Jews worked in the textile trade. They would import fabrics from overseas; the fabrics would arrive by ship via the rivers, and would then be sold to local customers. The wholesale market by the port was always bustling with Jews.

Back then, there were no universal standards for products and people had to be excellent judges of quality in order to avoid being tricked into purchasing a fabric that might look wonderful but would fall apart after being washed or worn. Merchants relied on expert appraisers when trading in fabric goods, and all traders sought to have their reputations confirmed by appraisers who attested that one could rely on them for high quality goods. A merchant who gained a reputation for dealing in sub-standard faric might easily lose clients and be left with rolls of fabric he could not sell, resulting in catastrophic losses.

The Jewish merchants of Koblenz were God-fearing Jews. Every day, immediately after the morning prayers, they would head to the port, wait for the merchandise they had ordered to be unloaded, and hire workers to lug the heavy bolts of fabric to the city warehouses. They would visit potential clients with samples and do business all day long until late in the afternoon when they would enter the study hall to listen to a Torah lecture from the merchants' rabbi, Rabbi Gershon of Koblenz.

The Jewish merchants of Koblenz were truly God-fearing, it is true -- but, it is very difficult to conduct business, especially competitive business, without sometimes slipping into dishonest ways. Exaggerating a little about the value of one's merchandise while denigrating the fabric sold by one's competitor was not unheard of -- it might be something as "trivial" as suggesting that the dress just sewn by a neighbor was already fraying at the seams, so don't buy from Meir if you can avoid it... or a hint that the attractive new fabric displayed by Shimon was terribly overpriced... On occasion, a local merchant would conclude a deal to buy a certain amount of merchandise, and at the last moment, a shrewd Jew would turn up and offer the buyer the same quantity at a discounted price. All such practices could raise halachic questions, not to mention the disputes and resentments they caused.

As he scanned the faces of the merchants at his Torah class each afternoon, the rabbi often saw frustration, disappointment, or anger reflected there. He would frequently try to intervene, suggesting a compromise between competitors, reassuring one that another had meant no ill-will... but to no avail. The disputes only grew in number and the methods used to succeed in business continued to fall short of the Torah's ethical standards.

The rabbi thought and thought and eventually devised a plan. His was a revolutionary idea: all the merchants would declare, and even sign a document saying that they forgave their fellow Jews for encroaching on their business or disparaging their produce in any way. Even though halachah prohibited such behavior, the merchants would choose to forgo their right to object in order to maintain peace. If one merchant snatched a shipment of merchandise from under his neighbor's nose – no problem, forgiven. After all, today's victim might have been yesterday's perpetrator. Wasn't this a wonderful idea?

The rabbi's proposal fell on receptive ears; nonetheless, the merchants of Koblenz decided to obtain a final stamp of approval from the rabbi of the entire city. Accordingly, they approached the rabbi of Koblenz, the Chavot Yair, on behalf of their own rabbi, to hear from his lips that such forgiveness, given in advance, would be considered valid.

To their surprise, the Chavot Yair responded harshly. "Encroaching on a competitor's business is wrong, and according to halachah one is penalized for this behavior which can be considered as theft. There are cases where the person who acts in this way is called 'evil.' If you decide to forgive such behavior in advance, it will only serve to permit it in people's eyes, which will lead to far more prohibited business practices. Even though your intention is to preserve the peace, the opposite will occur.

"Furthermore," the Chavot Yair added, "Hashem's Name will be desecrated and people will become accustomed to transgressing the halachah. If Jews in other cities learn of this, they may decide to follow suit and you will be guilty of causing others to sin."

In other words, having the right intentions is not enough. The God-fearing merchants of Koblenz wanted to live in peace and harmony but failed to realize that only by enforcing the halachah, rather than circumventing it, could they achieve this.