The Chosen

Then he looked back at me, and his voice was gentle as he spoke. "Reuven, I--I ask you to forgive me... my anger... at your father's Zionism. I read his speech... I--I found my own meaning for my... brother's death... for the death of the six million. I found it in God's will... which I did not presume to understand. I did not--I did not find it in a Jewish state that does not follow God and His Torah. My brother... the others... they could not--they could not have died for such a state. Forgive me... your father... it was too much... too much--"
His voice broke. He held himself tightly. His beard moved faintly with the trembling of his lips.
"Daniel," he said brokenly. "Forgive me... for everything... I have done. A--a wiser father... may have done differently. I am not... wise."
He rose slowly, painfully, to his feet. "Today is the--the Festival of Freedom." There was a soft hint of bitterness in his voice. "Today my Daniel is free..."
(This passage was taken from Chapter 18 of Chaim Potok's The Chosen.)

This passage almost made me cry -- for joy. For Danny's whole life, his father had not talked to him -- except to teach a lesson on the Talmud or to explode -- to teach him a lesson on pain and compassion. I cannot imagine that. It would be so awful -- torturous. Then, after years of silence, for his father to come to him -- just before he leaves for college -- and apologize for all those years of harsh raising, it would be like the breaking of a dam. Both father and son cried for joy for the new found freedom and from the pain from those years of separation. Incredible. Unimaginable. I am so glad I did not have to go through anything like that.