Returning to the Path of Goodness and Truth: Teshuvah
Teshuvah, Returning to the Path of Goodness and Truth, is the easiest and hardest aspect of the High Holy Days.
It is the easiest because HaShem is always waiting to welcome us back into alignment with the Good.
It is the hardest because it demands we set aside our egos and admit our failures.
Throughout my life, I heard teshuvah translated as repentance. It was something I heard you needed to do in order to be written into the Book of Life on Rosh HaShanah and have your fate sealed on Yom Kippur. The whole thing sounded like a bad fairy tale when I first heard the sermon as a child. I have to remember my own disdain for simple answers when I encounter Jews who want to remain distant from organized Judaism.
As many people know, I am not a Hebrew speaker. But thanks to my incredible Hebrew teachers at the Academy for Jewish Religion California, Vered Hopenstand and Rabbi Avraham Greenstein, I am a Hebrew grammar nerd. And teshuvah really means to return.
To return to our souls.
To return to our inner wisdom.
To return to the people we are meant to be.
To not leap over reparations to the false embrace of forgiveness.
To do the work of repair needed to honestly and authentically begin our lives anew.
I read three books on this topic in preparation for this sermon. And yet, all the reading in the world didn’t stop me from failing and harming people with my words. I will not disrespect our community by repeating the details of my failure publicly. I tell you this to acknowledge that I am a flawed human being and a flawed messenger of this truth.
Elul, the Hebrew month that comes before Rosh HaShanah begins the season of Teshuvah. Today is the Day of Judgment, Yom HaDin, the day when we are impelled to remember everything we did in the previous year.
There is an account of everything we’ve said, everything we’ve thought, and everything we’ve done. It is written permanently on our souls.
Our souls carry the burden of remembering our lives in perfect detail. There is no faulty memory within our souls. Our souls remember exactly when we said things in anger, when we pushed people away out of fear.
We are burdened with the heaviness of knowing we fail. Humans, by design, fail. We fail because we are not angels. We left the Garden of Eden and leapt into the world of choice.
According to the Jewish tradition I follow, Eve is not the source of sin. She is the source of Wisdom. Eve chose to choose. She chose to question reality and became stronger because she ate from the tree of knowledge.
Knowing deep truths about the human condition is a heavy burden. There are no simple answers in Judaism. Anytime you encounter a simple Jewish explanation, be suspicious. We have no dogma, no creed. In fact, we are not a religion. We are a people, a civilization, a community of practice. What we do and who we are cannot be separated. Our roots are thousands of years older than the concept of religion.
Religion was created by early Christians to divide people, their intrinsic identities, from their beliefs and spiritual actions. This is a statement from the academic study of religion. It is not meant to disparage our Christian family and friends.
On the deepest level, it is a misnomer to say that Temple Israel has a religious school. We have a School of Jewish Exploration and Empowerment. No belief is required. No particular way of being is expected. In this way, the name given to the school by its former director, Cantor Brian Reich, was correct. It is a Beit Bina, a House of Wisdom.
And yet, we also understand that not every Jew understands Hebrew. Nor can a small community afford to have separate branding for its school. (In case you didn’t know, I worked in advertising and am married to my creative director, Rebbetzir Chung-Mau Cheng.)
So, this year we returned to the simple name Temple Israel Religious School. Even though we want everyone to know this gathering space is unlike any religious school I knew about in the 80s and 90s. Our School Director, Dr. Jenn Levine, is an expert in creating space for growing Jewish understanding and Jewish values. Our teachers are committed to supporting the social and emotional growth of every child. And our kids love Dr. Jenn so much that many of them returned to be madrichim, guides for younger children on the journey of self discovery.
Through every educational opportunity, Temple Israel is dedicated to meeting your depths with depth. And I deeply understand how difficult it is to face our own failures. That is why we need a wisdom tradition to guide us.
Teshuvah.
Return.
Setting our egos aside. Forgetting about face, about our need to look good.
Acknowledging that what we do matters. What we say matters. What we focus our minds on matters. How we spend our time matters. We matter.
This is the hardest work we can do. By setting aside regular time for this Holy Day, we are committing ourselves to change. As Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg wrote in On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World:
Addressing harm is possible only when we bravely face the gap between the story we tell ourselves–the one in which we’re the hero, fighting the good fight, doing our best, behaving responsibly and appropriately in every context–and the reality of our actions. We need to summon the courage to cross the bridge over that cognitively dissonant gulf and face who we are, who we have been—even if it threatens our story of ourselves. It’s the only way we can even begin to undertake any possible repair of the harm we’ve done and become the kind of person who might do better next time. (49)
We have to cross the gulf between the story we tell ourselves and the reality of how we have lived. Even if it threatens the foundation of our lives. Even if it hurts. Especially if it means facing the consequences of our actions head on.
So how do we accept responsibility? What are we expected to do between now and Yom Kippur?
We are expected to account for our lives.
We are expected to be quiet and listen to the still, small voice within.
We are expected to create space for our souls.
We are expected to acknowledge that other people have hurt us and have the courage to rebuke them.
We are expected to have the courage to face rebuke without defending our egos.
We need to learn, I need to learn, how to swallow criticism without considering it poison.
And when we find specific examples of our own failures, we must apologize.
This is not the time for vagueness. Blanket statements accepting responsibility for nameless harm are not get out of jail free cards.
We must identify specifically how we harmed other human beings.
We must begin the repair process by working to make reparations and undoing the harm that we caused.
We must determine how, exactly, we will ensure that we never do this particular problematic behavior or speech again.
And then, after we have done all the work of teaching ourselves how poorly we have acted. After we have borne the burden of cleaning up the mess we have made. Only then can we approach the people we have harmed and apologize.
In the Jewish tradition, we do not ask for forgiveness. We apologize. The first places a heavy burden on the person harmed. It demands acceptance and reconciliation.
By apologizing without any expectations, we fully embrace that we are the person who caused harm. We are the people who need to make amends. We are the people who should provide reparations.
As the person who did something wrong, we should not burden our victims with our feelings. We should not demand that they acknowledge our intention was different from the impact of our actions. A robust apology sets aside the ego’s need for control and for self-validation.
Marjorie Ingall and Susan McCarthy wrote an incredible book on this topic. It is called Sorry, Sorry, Sorry: The Case for Good Apologies. More than any other book I could possibly recommend to you, I believe this book should be required reading for humans. It explains how to apologize well. It also explains how to teach kids how to apologize. And it goes through an extraordinarily large amount of scientific research to explain why it is so hard for us, individually and collectively, to acknowledge the harm we create and apologize for it. Most importantly, it is written in an engaging tone that makes you feel like the authors are speaking directly to you.
Here are the steps to a good apology, according to Ingall and McCarthy (41):
How to Apologize
Say you’re sorry.
For what you did.
Demonstrate that you understand the impact and know why what you did was hurtful.
Offer explanation (if relevant) but no excuses.
Make clear why what you did won’t happen again.
Make reparations.
Six and a half. LISTEN.
As someone who has tried to use these steps quite recently, I can tell you that it is quite humbling to describe how you have hurt someone else. And it is incredibly difficult to listen to people express their pain and disappointment without rushing to one’s own defense. In fact, I’m not sure if I have fully mastered this process. But I keep trying.
As Ingall & McCarthy wrote in Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, “We have to love ourselves enough to deal with our own mistakes and flaws; they’re not the sum total of who we are. When we know we’re worthy of love, we can afford to turn a harsh eye on our conduct and take the risk of apologizing well” (87). It is imperative that we remember we are worthy of love as we turn our critical eyes on ourselves and our own conduct. What we do is not who we are.
Now, it is vital to know how to apologize. It is equally important to know that an apology is not always the best way forward. These are the circumstances under which Ingall and McCarthy suggest you should not apologize (26):
When To Not Apologize
You don’t mean it.
It would hurt the other person.
The other person doesn’t want to hear from you.
The other person is demanding too many apologies.
These are counter cultural recommendations. Yet, it is imperative that we take our own words seriously. It is also important that we model the seriousness of language to our children. We cannot simply “say we’re sorry,” to smoothe over interpersonal rifts. We cannot demand apologies from our kids because they’ve hurt someone else.
Rather, we must allow ourselves and our children time. We need to take a step back from the heat of the situation. Allow ourselves time to get re-centered. Metabolize our anger. Let our kids take deep breaths. We need to understand situations from all perspectives before we suggest remedies. We need to allow each of our individual perspectives to have weight. Even the kid who keeps biting their classmate is doing it for a reason. (Did you have a preschool biter? I did. Woo boy. Was that embarrassing? Big emotions are really hard for all of us. I’m still learning how to metabolize frustration, anger, and fear. Those are the same emotions that can lead a toddler to bite. Or a grownup to send a really awful email.)
I am not suggesting that we accept bad behavior from ourselves or our children. I’m suggesting that we need to process our feelings to ensure that when we face big emotions in the future, we act differently. More than saying sorry, learning how to do better and accept responsibility for our actions is key.
So this is the heart of the Teshuvah process:
Stripping away the ego’s defenses.
Clarifying our vision of ourselves and being honest about where we have fallen short.
And then honestly, with specificity, apologizing to people whom we have harmed. Reparations is a key component in this process. Maybe that means giving to a charity in someone’s honor. Maybe that means offering someone a gift card to a nice dinner. If we fail spectacularly, words alone cannot express our repentance.
When we cause emotional harm, we have to accept that our relationships may never be the same again. We have to accept that our victim can acknowledge our apology without forgiving us. Or they can choose to forgive us without choosing to continue having a relationship with us.
Forgiveness is earned. Trust is earned. If we are ostracized because of our behavior, we cannot blame the victims of our actions.
On the other hand, we can choose what type of culture we want to live in. Call-out culture is far ranging on social media. Ingall and McCarthy reference examples where it has cost people their jobs. They suggest that instead of leaning into call-out culture, we consider engaging in call-in culture. As Ingall and McCarthy wrote: “Public shaming is best deployed when someone says something truly and undeniably hateful. A private, personal attempt to educate, aimed at encouraging reflection rather than eliciting a reaction, may offer less of a dopamine hit but can put forth more good in the world” (235).
Whatever you think about what’s happening in the moment, take a couple of breaths before responding publicly. This advice is so important that I underlined it and starred it in my copy of the book. I cannot tell you how many hours I’ve lost to one-upmanship on social media. Getting into arguments with strangers in order to Prove My Point or Reveal the Truth or whatever it is I thought I was doing. Even worse, sending long emails to people I know full of conjecture and half-baked opinions because My Feelings Need to Be Heard.
It’s not that we’re bad people. Jewish tradition teaches that we each have a Yetzer HaRa, and inclination towards destructiveness and evil within us. The Yetzer HaRa is organized to challenge our best intentions. It provides justifications for the worst possible choices we can make. And it stokes our fears and our pain in order to encourage us to lash out at the people around us. We have to consciously work every day to contain the Yetzer HaRa. This is the essential work of a Jewish spiritual practice. To live into the people we want to be and contain our Shadow side.
The days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur are the most heightened time of the year for this work. That is why it is called the Ten Days of Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Returning to the Path of Goodness and Truth. This is the time when we must apologize for what we have done wrong: with specificity and with reparations. We cannot issue blanket apologies. That might make us feel good, but it does nothing to right the wrong we have caused over the past year.
If someone harmed you, it is completely valid to rebuke them. Ideally, a rebuke happens privately. As with all emotionally charged discussions, it is best to schedule time to talk – over the phone, on video chat, or in person. Email is not your friend. It might be easier to write out why you’re angry at someone, but it is much harder to accept rebuke via email than it is to face the person you have harmed with your actions. I know this from personal experience. We have to learn how to speak with one another in real time, as scary as the encounter can be.
So the Ten Days of Teshuvah move us from Rosh HaShanah to Yom Kippur. We should dedicate ourselves to rectifying all of the harm we have caused to other human beings during that time. Because G!d cannot forgive us for things we do to other people. We are obligated to apologize directly to the people we harmed. And if they don’t accept our apology, we must take time to think through how to apologize better. Then, only after giving the person harmed by our actions time, can we schedule another appointment to attempt a second apology, perhaps with a witness to hold us accountable. We should be willing to apologize three times with sincerity, contrition, and reparations. If the person we harmed does not accept the apology on the third attempt, the person who has caused harm can let go of the guilt of their actions. The victim bears no guilt – forgiveness is not required. This is only a process for atoning the sin done by the perpetrator of a harmful act and in no way reflects back on the victim.
Additionally, we should think through how we have made time for deep meaning in our lives. Did we spend our days wisely? Nourish our souls with music, art, and literature? Or did we spend a majority of our free time numbing out with social media? If we live with other people, were we able to eat together? Did we keep our eyes focused on the people around the table rather than our ever-present smartphone screens?
At this time of year, my favorite externally-directed spiritual practice is Do you 10q? The website, do you 10q dot com, sends you a question a day for 10 days. You submit your answers to a vault where they are held for the next year. It is a brilliant way to focus ourselves during the Ten Days of Teshuvah. This has been part of my personal practice since 2018.
Journaling is another way to get in touch with our souls. As Julia Cameron taught many of us in her book The Artist’s Way, morning pages can unlock the disconnect between our ego selves and our souls. An advertising colleague of mine began writing morning pages and ended up moving to Paris and finding the love of her life. You can read Janice MacCleod’s story in her book, Paris Letters: A Memoir About Art, Writing, and Finding Love in Paris.
So yes, I believe in the power of writing. Reading can also be a helpful path forward. If you think you’re alone in failing to live up to the standards in your head, I highly recommend Sin.a.gogue: Sin and Failure in Jewish Thought by Rabbi David Bashevkin. It is a beautiful book that compiles the richness of rabbinic thought on the concepts of sin and failure. As importantly, it offers hope that we can confront our sins and emerge as better versions of ourselves.
Similarly, Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s book, On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World offers a unique perspective on putting Maimonides’ theory of rectifying sin into modern practice. She offers clear guidance on how to offer good apologies. As importantly, she explains why we shouldn’t rush into demanding apologies before people have time to process what they did wrong.
Listening is another path of spiritual discipline. Book authors are often podcast guests. Most books are available in audio format. Brene Brown’s podcast and books on shame and overcoming obstacles; and her Ted Talk on vulnerability can also be useful.
Most importantly, our time together should lead us to change how we act. The Ten Days of Teshuvah is about actively returning to the path we want to walk. To live into our best selves, we need to choose the path of change. We need to have the courage to admit when we are wrong and accept the consequences of our actions. We need to forgive ourselves for not living up to the ideals we aspire to live by. And we need to reinvest ourselves in creating a more just and holy world. Will you join me in this work?
This sermon was written for Rosh Hashanah 5784 at Temple Israel of Alameda. The header image was designed by a congregant to encourage participation in our community. If you enjoy my writing, consider donating to my community.
Also, in case you’re new to all of this, I wrote an explanation of the Jewish High Holy Day season for the Alameda Unified School District.