Teshuvah for Perfectionists: What Our Tradition Tells Us About Appreciating Growth and Accepting our Humanity

 

Introduction

In his introduction to Hilchot Teshuvah, Rambam formulates—in a single and characteristically elegant sentence—the definition of teshuvah, a concept generally and ineluctably translated into English as “repentance.” He explains: תשובה: מצות עשה אחת והיא שישוב החוטא מחטאו לפני ה’ ויתודה, “Teshuvah consists of one positive commandment and it is that the sinner shall turn back from his sin (cheit) before G-d and confess.” Rambam’s formulation draws upon the wellspring of traditional thought about teshuvah, and has come to encapsulate what we so often talk about when we talk about teshuvah.

 

As Rambam will go on to describe, teshuvah is a process with multiple spiritual levels. Still, Rambam’s definition consists of clear actions: an identifiable transgression followed by a conscious cessation of the action, then the act of viduy. This approach works well for a whole host of human shortcomings, intentional or not, from hurtful speech to lackluster observance of mitzvot. Depending on the severity and type of transgression, it may or may not be sufficient for bigger problems. But it certainly works less well for messier, less-boundaried lapses, like a generalized sense that we’re falling short.

 

Rabbi Simcha Bunim famously said that everyone needs a coat with two pockets, one with a note that declares, “for my sake the world was created,” and another that states, “I am but dust and ashes.” The human condition is such that we sometimes need reminding of our fundamental value, and at other times, to check our ego. A lot of traditional thought around teshuvah, including Rambam’s, seems to be aimed at people who tend to locate themselves in the “for my sake” pocket—for whom self-regard comes naturally, while self-recrimination requires discipline. But what about those of us who tend to live in the “dust and ashes” pocket, for whom guilt and self-reproach are a natural gesture? 

 

This is why I recoil from the English “repentance,” which comes to us via French from the Latin verb paenitere, “to make sorry; to displease or offend.” (The English “sin” is even more problematic as a gloss for the many Hebrew words that denote related concepts, including cheit, averah, and pesha, but that’s a whole subject unto itself.) Certainly, as Rambam underscores, contrition is a central feature of atoning for wrongdoing. But teshuvah, from the root שוב, “return,” is also about relationship, about closeness to Hashem and being true to our selves, imbued as they are with the Divine spark.

 

In the following series, I would like to explore what it might mean to engage in a process of teshuvah not in self-blame, but with acceptance of our own humanity; with hope for growth rather than perfection. It turns out that a quieter strand of our tradition speaks to changing gently. We’ll look at several approaches to understanding the need or desire for change without self deprecation and different ways of going about it compassionately. 

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