Elul - Rambam's Laws of Teshuvah

On "Perfect Repentance"

With Rosh Hashana around the corner, the end of this years cycle of Torah reading and, by extension, if I may coin a phrase, the “New Year of Parsha Sheets” (i.e., Shabbat Bereshit), is fast upon us. For years, one of my dreams has been to write a translation and accompanying commentary on Maimonides’ Hilkhot Teshuvah (“Laws of Repentance”). Having written for an entire year about the Torah portion, and a second year about all the haftarot, I hope during the coming year to devote these pages to a variety of subjects. Together with selected midrashim on the weekly Torah portion, I hope, at least from time to time, to devote some space to this classic of Jewish psychology, philosophy and religious thought. What follows is a modest attempt at a start—albeit taken, not from the beginning, but from the opening section of Chapter 2.

Hilkhot Teshuvah 2.1. What is “perfect repentance”? This is when a person is faced with some thing in which he has sinned in the past, and he has the opportunity to do it again, but he turns away and does not sin because of teshuvah, not out of fear or through lack of strength. How so? One who had illicit relations with a certain woman, and after a certain period of time was alone with her again, and he still feels love for her, and still has bodily potency, and is in the same place where he committed the transgression, and he turns away and does not sin—such a one is a perfect penitent. Concerning this Solomon said: “and remember your creator in the days of your youth” [Eccles 12:1]. But if he did not repent until old age, at a time when he is unable to do what he would have done: even though such is not exemplary repentance, it is efficacious and he is considered a penitent (ba’al teshuvah). Even if he sinned all his life and only repented on his dying day, and died in a state of teshuvah, all his transgressions are erased. As it is said, “until the sun and the light and the moon and the stars go dark, and the clouds come after the rains” [ibid., v. 2]—this refers to the day of death. To imply, that if he remembered his Creator and repented before he died, he is forgiven.

Two or three remarks about this passage. Firstly, there as a subtle, interesting play on words in the middle of this passage. “Even though it is not exemplary repentance (teshuvah me’ulah), it is efficacious (mo’elet hi).” The Hebrew words used to indicate these two contrasting states—exemplary repentance and efficacious repentance —are very similar; indeed, possibly derived from the same root.

But these terms refer in fact to two very different aspects of teshuvah. One level, that of minimalistic teshuvah—the classical example is that of one who repents on his deathbed—relates to the process of “Divine bookkeeping,” so to speak. In this context the word “efficacious” is relevant. God is compassionate, merciful and forgiving—that is the essential message of the Thirteen Qualities of Mercy, read over and over during this season. He is prepared to grant us atonement for our sins; all that is needed is a minimum act of turning towards God to open the gates. Such teshuvah serves as an instrument for gaining Divine forgiveness, but is far from ideal in terms of the person himself.

On the other hand, there is a maximal, “exemplary” form of teshuvah,” concerned with the correction or even perfection of the individual’s personality, the removal or reversal of the “stain” left on the person’s character by sin. The true concern of the process of teshuvah is character building, the constant growth and perfection of personality, what the classical Musar writers (Hebrew ethicists) refer to as tikkun hamiddot (“correction of the [character] traits”), which is ultimately a life long project. It is in regard to this latter standard that Rambam articulates the concept of teshuvah gemurah—the quest for true, total, full repentance.

These two aspects or kinds of teshuvah serve as a central organizing principle in Hilkhot Teshuvah. Most of the laws dealing with teshuvah as such are in fact concentrated in the first two or two and half chapters of this work; the balance of its ten chapters (with the exception of Chapter 7) are devoted to an excursus on a variety of related theological, philosophical and religio-psychological subjects: what constitutes proper Jewish belief (defined negatively: to wit, what constitutes heresy?); the seemingly irresolvable contradiction between free will and Divine omniscience; the nature of the World to Come; the ideal of true, disinterested love of God; etc.

Between these first two chapters, the former is concerned with the role of teshuvah as an instrument of atonement or expatiation of sin (mekhaper) and the relation between teshuvah and other such instruments, particularly the Temple ritual conducted on Yom Kippur (this point is felt even more strongly in Maimonides’ discussion of teshuvah in Sefer ha-Mitzvot: Mitzvot ‘Aseh §73). It is within this rubric that the “efficacious teshuvah” referred to in our sentence finds it rightful place. The second chapter, by contrast, is devoted to the maximal definition of teshuvah: to teshuvah as an act or, better, process in which the person’s personality is definitively changed (this theme is continued in Chapter 7). Hence, §2.1 is not dependent upon what precedes it, but can be read as a new beginning, as the opening of an exposition of teshuvah in its own right.

What is this halakhah saying? Following a brief Talmudic dictum in Yoma 86b (interesting, there the language used is, “Who is a Ba’al Teshuvah?” rather than “What is complete teshuvah?”), it states that the true teshuvah requires testing: that one relive the circumstances that led to sin on a previous occasion, and this time make a different choice. I would like to suggest a radical reading (which may or may not have been Maimonides’ original intention): namely, that teshuvah in the fullest sense is virtually impossible, and that all teshuvah is of necessity only partial, fragmentary, incomplete.

The example chosen, that of sexual transgression, is singularly well chosen to illustrate this point. In many human cultures, sexual misbehavior is seen as emblematic of all sin: because of its innate attractiveness and fascination, and its potential ubiquity; because of the role of the imagination therein; because an essential dimension in the choice of an ethical path in life is that between moral uprightness and integrity vs. the pursuit of pleasure. Hazal, too, see it as paradigmatic: the very term aveirah (“transgression”), when used without further elaboration, refers to sexual sin; the archetypal Yetzer ha-Ra (“The Evil Urge”) is the sexual impulse; Rambam likewise notes the widespread nature of this transgression in the peroration to Issurei Bi’ah, §22.19.

But there’s more to it than that. The sexual encounter is not a purely instinctual physical act fulfilling immediate physical need, but a meeting between two persons, treasured as much for its emotional overtones as for its erotic sensations. It is for this reason that Maimonides includes in this section the words, “and he retains his love for her”—a phrase that does not appear in the Talmudic source, which merely states “with the same woman, the same place, the same time period” (see note below).

For that very reason, because of the ebb and flow of human emotions, it is difficult for me to imagine a second encounter between a man and woman who were once illicit lovers ever being exactly the same as the initial encounter. Perhaps when they first met and engaged, say, in an adulterous liaison, one of them was lonely, confused, feeling rejected; when they meet again, years later, he/she is happy, contented, perhaps married to a new, more loving spouse. But even if this is not the case: for two people who have already made love, any second or subsequent time will somehow ipso facto be different; there is something special, unrepeatable, in an intimate encounter of this kind. Two lovers who meet again, even after years of separation, have already crossed that barrier. It may be easier to repeat the act—but for that reason will also be less interesting, less intensely gratifying.

The point here is of course not the intricacies of sexual emotion, but something much deeper: the real point of teshuvah is to repair ones impaired moral faculty in such a way that, next time one is confronted with a difficult decision, with a deep moral temptation, one will succeed in making the “right,” ethical, godly choice. Yet, in fact, one can never know how successful one will be in confronting the next challenge, the next moral junction in ones life, until one gets there—because it will never be quite the same. Hence, when Rambam writes, “and one still feels the same love for her,” he seems to be begging the question: Does one ever really feel exactly the same love, even for the same woman, after passing through X, Y, and Z life experiences? Thus, it seems to me that Rambam is telling us that one can never have total, perfect closure on any situation of sin. One does one best to purify ones character in the smelting pot of difficult life tests, but in the end one comes full circle to the teshuvah of Chapter 1, to throwing oneself upon the Divine mercies: “forgive us, pardon us, atone us.” (Perhaps that, too, is the deeper meaning of the seemingly contradictory idea of praying for teshuvah: that repentance is not only an act of human will, but also entails a certain element of Divine help)

Comment on Methodology: For those unfamiliar with the study of Maimonides’ great code of Jewish law, Mishneh Torah / Yad ha-Hazakah, the above comments on his use of Talmudic sources are significant for the following reason: About 90% or more of the material appearing in the Yad is essentially taken from earlier sources: the Mishnah and the Babylonian Talmud, to a lesser degree from the Palestinean Talmud or Yerushalmi, from the writings of the Babylonian geonim, down to R. Isaac Alfasi (Rif) and R. Joseph ibn Megas (the R”i mi-Gash), his own father’s mentor. Rambam’s genius and his unique point of view is expressed in his selection of material, his organization of it in a completely new way, and the subtleties of his phrasing (as in the above case). Here and there he adds comments of his own but, which these are extremely significant and revealing, quantitatively they represent only a very small part of this oeuvre. For a full discussion of these and other issues, see Isadore Twersky’s masterful Introduction to the Code of Maimonides (Mishneh Torah), New Haven: Yale: 1980.

A Definition of Teshuvah

Earlier, we began to translate and comment upon several passages from Maimonides’ “Laws of Teshuvah.” We shall continue to do so here, beginning with Chapter 2, as it is this chapter that most succinctly defines and summarizes the actual nature and process of what is meant by repentance (we omit 2.1, “What is perfect teshuvah?” discussed last year, in HY II: Ki Tavo). We shall return to Chapter 1, which is more a discussion of the process and means of atonement—that is, God’s “account rendering ”with human beings—later on, closer to Yom Kippur.

2. What is meant by teshuvah? It is that the sinner abandons his sin and removes it from his thought, and firmly decides in his heart that he shall no longer do it, as is said, “let the evildoer abandon his way…” [Isa 55:7]. And he shall also regret the past, as is said, “for after I turned, I repented” [Jer 31:18}. And He who knows the secret things shall testify of him that he shall never return to this sin forever, as is said: “And we shall no longer say ‘Our God’ to the work of our hands’” [Hosea 14:4]. And he must confess with his lips and articulate those things which he decided in his heart.

This definition of teshuvah is one oft-repeated in yeshiva Mussar lessons, often formulated in shorthand as “regret for the past; confession; resolution for the future.” Notuce, by the way, that the three proof texts invoked here are all taken from familiar passages, from the haftarot read during this season: fast day afternoons, the Second Day of Rosh Hashana, and Shabbat Shuvah.

One of the problematic aspects for many contemporary readers is that Maimonides seems to emphasize the mind to the exclusion of other aspects of the personality: “he removes it from his thought and firmly decides in his heart…” Teshuvah is defined here as essentially a cognitive and volitional process, involving the mind and the will. One identifies the sin, realizes that it was wrong and regrets having done it, and makes a decision to change ones ways in the future. Hence, the functions of mind and of will seem to reign supreme in the human soul. Modern, post-Freudian culture, is far more cogniscent of the subconscious, emotive elements in behavior; it has become a truism that even the most intelligent of men is often only vaguely aware of the true motivations underlying his actions.

Another difficulty, often noted by Rabbi Mickey Rosen of Yakar in his talks, is the impression conveyed here by Maimonides that teshuvah is a discrete, singular process, one that may be done in a complete way, on which one can have “closure.” Yet our experience of teshuvah seems to be of something that is never really completed, but is always ongoing, partial, fragmentary. The answer, I think, is that the purpose of this specific paragraph is to define the phenomenon, not to prescribe how one actually goes about doing teshuvah.

The “how to” of teshuvah is, at least in part, the subject of §4; in part, it is very much an individual thing. Thus Rav Soloveitchik, in whose thought teshuvah occupied a particularly central place, often spoke of hirhurei teshuvah, “thoughts of repentance”: that is, that teshuvah begins with inchoate, vague sentiments of something being amiss, of dissatisfaction with oneself on moral and ethical grounds, from which there gradually evolves the clear resolve to abandon past mistakes.

Indeed, in Chapter 7 Maimonides does in fact speak of teshuvah for de’ot ra’ot—that is, negative character traits (what most Mussar authors call “middot”)—whereas here he speaks of teshuvah for specific actions. Notwithstanding the continuous, non-incremental nature of character growth, there are certain times and situations in life where one makes a clearcut, one-time choice to change ones path. The murderer, the thief, the profligate, may make a definite decision to forego his past acts, so that one may say that from a certain date he ceased to kill, to steal, to philander, etc. Even in the case of seemingly less severe but far more pervasive sins, such as gossip and slander, it is possible at least in theory to cease and desist from a definite point. In that sense, one can attain “closure” on teshuvah.

Of course, to use a cliche, all these things are far easier said than done. One who attempts to abandon deeply engrained, major transgressions, will almost certainly find himself back-sliding, or at very least undergoing strong temptation to return to his former acts. Simple habit plays a powerful role in determining human behavior. Indeed, Hazal have observed that “once a person commits a sin and repeats it, it becomes permitted to him… that is, [he feels within himself] as if it is permitted.” (Yoma 8xx?) Anything done repeatedly, without much thought, becomes a natural part of ones life, and it is very difficult to perceive it as something wrong or negative that requires change. Behaviorists may see in this a central factor in human life, while advocates of other psychological schools may stress more the role of cognitive decision making on an ongoing level; the latter is clearly closer to Jewish beliefs concerning behirah hofshit (“free choice”) and each individual’s responsibility for his/her actions. But in any event it is a matter of everyday experience that changing even the simplest habit is a difficult and wrenching process. Thus, even on a purely behavioral level, means changing habits and establishing new patterns, what might be called behavioral reconditioning.

The experience of 12-step groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous is a case in point: the decision to change one aspect of ones life, although admittedly an overpowering addiction that has come to dominate one’s life—alcohol addiction, overeating, debt dependence, etc.—ultimately requires a social support system, daily vigilance, and a thorough review of all aspects of ones life, “a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

But, in essence, the act of teshuvah, of repentance, is a simple one: regretting the past, a decision for the future, and all this, as we shall explain below, articulated in words.

Teshuvah and Confession of Sin

3. Whoever confesses verbally, but has not concluded in his heart to abandon the sin, is like one who immerse himself in the mikveh [purifying bath] while holding an impure reptile in his hand. For immersion is not efficacious until he casts away the reptile. And it also says, “‘He who confesses and abandons them [i.e., his transgressions] shall have mercy” [Prov 28:13] And he needs to specify the sin, as is said, “I beg You, this people has done a grave sin and have made themselves a god of gold” [Exod 32:31].

The last sentence of the previous section already mentions verbal confession as a sine qua non of teshuvah. The penitent needs to specify, to articulate his sin. This law was already stated at the very beginning of Hilkhot Teshuvah, in 1.1. But whereas there it serves to define teshuvah as an act of kaparah, of atonement, of restoration of a state of harmony with God, here it appears as part of the inner psychological process of self-restoration known as teshuvah. Verbal confession is needed for oneself as much as it is for God. Until a person puts things into words, it is not clear whether it’s altogether real. (Thus, to mention another area of halakhah: in the laws of neder and shevu’ah, of oaths and vows, words spoken in a certain format must be fulfilled, whereas an oath or undertaking made in ones heart is not “real” in the same sense. But if I utter the words aloud, even in private, they must be carried out, or else rescinded according to proper halakhic procedure.)

Some philosophers of language go so far as to argue that we can’t even think certain things without the words to do so. Indeed, the distortion of language affects our ability to think. George Orwell dramatized this in his description of the “Newspeak” used in the futuristic totalitarian society described in 1984. I often feel that today’s PC language in fact performs precisely that role; thus, the invention some twenty years ago of the word “homophobia” has made many people feel conflicted in relation to Lev 18:22. See Rav Adin Steinsaltz’s excellent little book, Simple Words, which focuses on the problem of our often murky use of terms to describe basic life experiences.

This halakhah deal primarily with the problem of empty or insincere confession, “from the mouth outwards.” The question, of course, is: what about the standard Yom Kippur Viddui (Confession)? Often, a person may feel that he is reciting confession because the halakah requires him to do, or because it’s printed in the Mahzor. A person may leave Yom Kippur with the feeling that he hasn’t really done teshuvah, because he knows that next year he will be back in shul with the same Viddui. We shall return to this issue in the next week or two when we discuss the halakhot further on in this chapter in which Rambam deals specifically with “seasons of teshuvah.” For the moment, let us suffice with noting that the teshuvah discussed in all these sections is that of a person who has a definite, powerful sense of wrong-doing, of a specific nature.

Let me pose a question which may sound heretical: Is every Jew required to see himself as always imperfect, as perpetually needing to search his soul to find sins for which to do teshuvah? One of the daily papers recently described the atmosphere during the month of Elul in the classic yeshivot, which in our day are influenced by the Musar movement: an atmosphere of seeking out new scruples, of heaviness, of fear and guilt. The Hasidic response, by contrast, is that “He who thinks about muck will remain in the muck”; that one should avoid preoccupation with guilt, because of the psychological dangers of depression, sadness, and general heaviness of spirit which drains a persons’ energy and spirit. But this is a radical break and reinterpretation which takes us too far afield from understanding the plain meaning of our text, which is our first task here.

It seems possible that, while every person may needs to improve himself and take periodic moral stock, the process of teshuvah described in these halakhot is directed mostly to “heavy duty” sinners: the profligates, the men of violence, the thieves and cheats and connivers (both those who “rob you with a six-gun, and with a fountain pen,” in the words of the American folk song) who have really done their neighbors a bad turn. The feeling gained here is that one is not dealing with the ordinary, fundamentally decent person who examines his conscience during Elul and the 10 days and comes up with some points requiring improvement during the course of the year, but of a person who has undergone a deep, traumatic personal upheaval in light of the awareness that he has lived his life in a fundamentally wrong way, or done some truly dastardly act. (Crimes, not Misdemeanors, in the language of the Woody Allen film) Hence the drastic measures discussed in the next halakha—exile, constant tears and breast-beating, changing ones name, creating a new identity. Here Elisha ben Durdai is paradigmatic. It is important to bear this in mind as we turn to the next halakhah, which many will doubtless find extremely “heavy.”

(For still more of Rambam's teachings on teshuvah, scroll down to the "Rambam" section for this week's portion and last's)