Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

The Problem with Teshuvah
Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelekh 5763

September 20, 2003

"Sh'ver zu zein a Yid." It's tough to be a Jew. And let me tell you, it's even harder to be a rabbi. At no time is this as true as it is right now, during the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe.

One of my colleagues recently pointed out that we Rabbis spend more time talking about Heshbon HaNefesh, self-reflection, and Teshuvah, repentance, than actually doing it. That's one of the liabilities of our profession. We're so busy focusing on everyone else's problems and faults that we sometime forget that this is a time for us to look inward at ourselves and to give a serious accounting of our own lives. Rabbis are in need of Teshuvah no less than anyone else.

The truth is it's far easier to talk about Teshuvah than it is to actually do it. Despite hundreds of sermons and no matter how often we pontificate on this subject, there's no process more difficult or daunting than this one. Everyone is in favor of change but few of us are willing to follow through.

Especially rabbis. We're good Jews aren't we? We spend our lives taking care of others, devoting ourselves to the needs of the community, and teaching children. But we have the same faults and foibles as anyone else. We need this time as much as anyone to take a good hard look at ourselves and to reassess our lives.

It all begins today. The central theme of Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelekh is Teshuvah. The root of this word is used no less than seven times in the opening verses of chapter 30 of Devarim, Deuteronomy. "You shall return to the Lord your God…" the Torah says, "You shall turn and hearken to God's voice" Tonight we'll officially welcome the Yamim Noraim, the High Holy Days, with Selichot Services and next Shabbat we'll gather in synagogue for Rosh Hashanah to be followed by the Aseret Yamei Teshuvah - the Ten Days of Repentance. Finally we'll mark Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. We're called upon to reflect on our lives, to give an accounting of our actions and "to turn" back to God in repentance, to give up bad habits and destructive behavior.

Only this is not an easy thing to do. Rabbi Abraham Twersky offers a simple test to show us just how hard it is to change. He suggests that we fold our arms across our chest and note whether we place our right forearm over our left or visa versa. Go ahead give it a try. Now unfold your arms and fold them again the other way. Your first reaction will be to fold them the usual way. After you have folded them the opposite way just sit back and wait a few moments… Notice how awkward you feel.

If something as simple as the habit of crossing your arms is a difficult to change imagine how hard it is to change one's lifestyle. We're truly creatures of habit. And the longer we've been living or acting a certain way the harder it is to change.

So rabbis, who live their Jewish life in public all the time, have a particularly hard time changing who they are. It's easy to stand here and tell people to be better human beings, to practice Judaism in their personal lives, or to give up their self destructive behaviors but I know it's not. And I know this because I know how hard it is to change me.

Teshuvah is both hard and very simple. Anyone who has ever gone on a diet or given up smoking knows just how hard can be to break a habit. It can be painful not to mention embarrassing. But Teshuvah can also be very simple. The Kotzker Rebbe asked his disciples: "What's the distance from the east to the west?" One answered, "A million miles." Another said, "Infinity." The Kotzker answered, the distance is "ein klein drei - One small turn." Teshuvah can be as simple as a single turn, a change of attitude, a slight adjustment.

Maybe that's how we should think about it; we need to make not big changes but small ones, simple ones. If we can make a small change in our lives we can make a big difference.

Maimonides and other scholars offer us a clear road map for changing our behavior. While there are different versions of this process they all include certain elements: (1) recognition of what one is doing wrong; (2) expressing regret for the wrongs we've committed (it is not enough to see it; one must understand on a gut level why it is destructive and wrong); (3) recitation or confession of one's wrong ways; and (4) reparation - making right what one has done wrong.

But how do we get there? How do we undergo this arduous process?

It all begins with the Rosh. And by Rosh I mean both the head and Rosh Hashanah. It seems to me that there are three parts to this season - Rosh Hashanah, the Ten Days of Repentance and Yom Kippur. And they offer us a model that is meant to lead to change in our lives. If we pay attention to what it is we're doing during this season both in and out of synagogue we can begin to change old habits and form new ones.

First there's Rosh Hashanah. Change begins with the Rosh, the head. It's not all about guilt but the ability to think clearly about our lives, to reflect on our past actions and to understand the negative and positive implications of what we do. In most traditional sources the process of Teshuvah begins with the ability to feel regret. But regret is not guilt. Guilt is a visceral and illogical feeling while regret is a product of sustained and logical thought. It is the conclusions that we arrive at by analyzing and reflecting on our actions and understanding their effect on us and others.

To help us with this process of reflection the Rosh Hashanah liturgy is built on three basic ideas which we celebrate in the Musaf service: Malkuyot, the coronation of God, Zichronot, the idea that God remembers and takes account of our actions, and Shofarot, the sound of the Shofar or recognizing that we are called on to live by a higher moral standard.

These three ideas are central to change. If we don't begin here we really have no place to go. Malkuyot teaches us that we answer to a higher authority that takes precedence over our personal desires. Zichronot teaches us that God cares about what we do - we are not alone in the universe. And Shofarot reminds us that we are called on to heed the laws given at Mount Sinai (where the Shofar was first sounded.) Repentance then begins with these three ideas: That there is a God, who cares about us and a moral law that takes precedence over our desires. If we can reflect on these ideas then we can begin to understand that we must answer for our own actions.

Rosh Hashanah is a time for reflection. Change begins when we're willing to think about our place in the universe and our core beliefs as human beings. And having done this, we're now ready to enter the seven days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur: an entire week, enough time to create a world and change our own. If we take Rosh Hashanah seriously than we can now begin to make small be significant changes in our lives.

And only then are we prepared for Yom Kippur. When we have begun changing our actions we ask for forgiveness. If I'm a bank robber and I'm still robbing banks, I can't ask society to forgive me for being a robber. But if I have stopped robbing banks and I've returned my ill gotten gains, and I've shown a sincere desire to face the consequences of my actions (after all, I am being sentenced on Yom Kippur) maybe then I deserve the consideration of the court. Yom Kippur only makes sense after we've thought about what we have done, regret our failings, and have made a sincere attempt to change it.

Thought, action, and atonement: this is the process of Teshuvah that we aspire towards during the Days of Awe. It's so easy to explain but it's so hard to carry out. I know. I'm a Rabbi.

So let me end this morning with a favorite story that I told just the other night at a meeting. It seems that a woman once brought her son to Mahatma Gandhi and asked the great leader to talk to him about changing his diet. "My son eats too much sugar and candy. But he respects you. If you tell him to stop, he'll listen. Gandhi asked the woman to bring her son back in a week and he would speak to him at that time.

Sure enough, the woman returned with her son and after the briefest of conversations the boy agreed to give up his sugar.

But the woman was curious. Why didn't Gandhi speak to him immediately after the first visit?

"Because I had to give up sugar first myself before I could ask your son to do so," said the Indian leader.

Teshuvah is tough. I know. But I'm willing to try if you are too! Shabbat Shalom and Shannah Tovah!