Ki Tavo
Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8
Isaiah 60:1-22
The High Holy Days are fast approaching, calling us to reflect, reconnect and confess. In fact, according to Jewish law, confession is the most central part of the process of repentance. So central that for Maimonides, confession is the sole, defining act of repentance. In a thorough 10-chapter analysis, Maimonides fails to list any other mitzvah — confession is it!
During this High Holy Day season, many of us will revisit the famous words of confession in our liturgy: “We have been found guilty, we have dealt treacherously, we have robbed, we have spoken slander…” and so on and so forth, an overwhelming alphabetical listing of all our wrongdoing.
A true confession, perhaps before a loved one, is extremely scary and the forces propelling us to hide are incredibly imposing. On the one hand, we fear the consequences of our own actions. Confessing can sever our relationships, risk our social status and jeopardize our careers. On the other hand, confession is difficult because it requires us to look honestly at ourselves and come face to face with things we don’t like about our behavior and personality.
Confession then demands courage to rise above the powers of denial. Through confession we break a chain and free ourselves from a cycle of behavioral and psychological indifference.
This analysis, however, captures only one permutation of confession.
Close to 15 years ago, I flew to Florida to serve as a rabbinic intern for the High Holy Days. On the flight there, I sat behind a mother and her two children. The children were loud the way children can be, and the mother, feeling uncomfortable in this very public and small space, turned to her children and yelled: “Quiet! Don’t be so loud!” A couple of minutes later, one of the children grabbed the hand of his sibling with force. The brother reacted by screaming in pain. The mother then grabbed the hand of her child with some force and said: “Don’t grab your brother’s hand!”
Some time later I realized that this entire episode was possibly an allegory for confession. During the confession, like the parent who rebukes the child, we turn on ourselves. We tell ourselves: “Don’t be harsh with others!” And yet, at that very moment, we risk being too harsh with ourselves. We chide ourselves: “Don’t betray your friends!” And yet, at that very moment we betray our own frail human nature. “Accept the truth!” Yes, we have to accept the truth, but we also need to accept who we are as human beings and individuals.
Confession has a dangerous side. If the means are not consistent with the end, confession can become counterproductive. Our process for change needs to be true to the change we hope to achieve.
I believe that this week’s Torah portion introduces an alternative model of confession.
We read in the Torah: “When you have finished taking all the tithes of your grain for the third year, which is the special tithe year, you must give them to the Levite, and to the foreigner, orphan and widow, so that they will eat their fill in your settlements. You must then make the following declaration before God your Lord: ‘I have removed all the sacred portions from my house. I have given the appropriate ones to the Levite and to the orphan and widow, following all the commandments You prescribed to us.’” (Deut. 26:12-13)
The Talmud in tractates Megillah and Sotah explains that this very declaration is a confession. In the words of Rashi, “Confess that you brought your tithes.” Confess that you did the right thing.
This is a radically different model of confession. This is not pounding one’s heart, rather it is a pat on the back: “We loved our neighbor, we acted righteously, and we spoke the truth.”
Apparently there is a constructive side to confession as well. Beyond confessing our shortcomings and failings, we must also recognize the times that we were sensitive, righteous and the better side of us prevailed.
During this month of Elul, this special time of repentance, as we strive to recognize our shortcomings, let us also build on our strengths, as individuals and as a community, and allow our mitzvahs to inspire more mitzvahs and our good deeds to propel us toward enacting even more good deeds.
Rabbi Yonatan Cohen is the spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Israel in Berkeley. He can be reached at [email protected].