Yom Kippur
We have just passed Yom Kippur, the highest holy day of the Jewish faith. A parishioner once complained to me, “We say Confession every week. The Jewish people get it all done in one week1.”
Here is a Rabbi’s understanding of confession and forgiveness (edited for Connections).
My religious tradition is predicated on the perhaps unfashionable belief that people can change. Transformation is possible. It’s a tenet that is especially on my mind as we approach Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, on which Jews fast, pray and ask forgiveness of one another and of God.
Yom Kippur does not magically buy absolution. But the traditions surrounding the day do offer guidance for seeking forgiveness.
(1) First, you must apologize sincerely, as many as three times, acknowledging the other person’s hurt and express sincere regret.
(2) Second, serious, sustained reflection is required to try to change who you are. To repent is to return to what once was, what became hidden through coarseness or impulse. It is also to return to God and to the community. But slow, careful restoration takes time. The one who is sorry today and expects to stride right back, unblemished, is naïve or conniving.
(3) Third, you must change your ways. The sage Maimonides teaches that one who says to himself, “I’ll sin and then, repent” cannot be forgiven. Sorrow is not a strategy. It is a vulnerability, and it is a promise.
And what if you are the one who has been hurt? Consider why it is so hard to forgive. There is a savage self-righteousness to public shaming of another, even if you tell yourself you have forgiven. It establishes a hierarchy that true forgiveness disavows.
True Forgiveness forswears vengeance. In the Bible, the words “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18) are preceded by “you shall not bear a grudge.” Yet, when we have been hurt, we often wish to see you hurt. This personal and abstract desire for justice, to punish wrongdoing, is simply personal impulse in moralistic clothing.
On Yom Kippur, as Jews all over the world confess our sins, we will beat our chests, a sort of spiritual defibrillator to get our hearts beating anew. The liturgy asks of the “court on high” permission to pray with those who sin.
And who among us is exempt from that group? we are all imperfect and in need of love.
Rabbi David Wolpe ~ Sinai Temple in Los Angeles
