God said to Moses, “Chisel out two stone tablets like
the first ones, and I will write on them the words that were on the first
tablets, which you broke. (Exodus 34:1)
God said, “I have
forgiven, as I have promised you.” (liturgy for the Days of Awe)
I’ll try again
Until I get it right
I’ll try again
Who knows? This time I might.
I wanna win
The love that’s in
your heart
Right now, somehow
I’m gonna make a
brand new start
(“I’ll Try Again,” sung by Kelly
Willis, written by Jim Lauderdale)
We’re living in an
age of apologies.
Hardly a day goes
by without some celebrity or politician expressing remorse for some misdeed exposed
by the media. But how do we know when
their intent is sincere? Under what
circumstances do we offer them a second chance?
And, closer to home, how do we find forgiveness for our own offenses?
Jewish tradition
has a great deal to say about these matters as it discusses the nature of teshuvah—the
steps that we must take to repent of—or more accurately, turn away from—our
transgressions. Not surprisingly, our sages
disagree over aspects of that path, but, as Rabbi David Blumenthal notes,
almost all insist that genuine teshuvah requires five key elements.
The first step—recognizing
that we have done wrong—is an act of moral intelligence. It demands that we examine our motives and
contemplate the consequences of our offences.
The second—remorse—is an essential emotional state in which we feel real
regret for what we did and desire to make it better. The third step—confession—is the (often
public) acknowledgement of our failings.
The fourth and fifth steps—restitution and desisting from our bad
behavior—are both concrete actions: we do everything in our power to make
amends to the offended party and commit ourselves to an ongoing, determined
effort to behave significantly better in similar situations now and in the
future.
When a person sincerely
follows this path, Jewish tradition sees them as repentant and worthy of
forgiveness—though this does not absolve them from facing the legal and moral
consequences of their initial transgression.
**********
This week’s Torah
portion, Ki Tisa, describes the Israelites’ most grievous sin in the
entire Torah: their idolatrous worship around the Golden Calf while Moses is up
on Mount Sinai. This deep breach of
faith appalls both God and Moses; in its wake, God threatens to utterly destroy
the community, and Moses smashes the tablets of the Law.
There are other,
serious—even dire—consequences.
Thousands die by plague and by the sword of the avenging Levites. Yet ultimately both God and Moses forgive the
people and offer them a second chance.
Moses goes back up the mountain and returns forty days later with a new
set of tablets. The text doesn’t
describe the details of the Israelites’ path to teshuvah, but we can assume that they acknowledge
their failures, do their best to make amends, and learn from their mistakes.
Our tradition (Talmud
Bava Batra 14b) also notes that the broken tablets were kept in the ark
together with the intact second set. Brokenness
and wholeness coexist together in our most sacred space—the heart of the holy
ark. They remind us of both our failure
and our commitment to growing from it.
Forgiveness is a complicated matter, but none of us would really want to
live in a world without second chances.
Kelly Willis sings
soulfully of this part of our humanness in her song, “I’ll Try Again.” She recognizes that forgiveness is not
granted casually, noting:
It must be hard
for you to sit and listen
I can
understand if you’re afraid
If you need to
see some proof
I’m here to
make it up to you
She adds:
Even when you
shouldn’t have
You gave me
another chance
That’s just
what I need from you today
And then she
launches into the chorus, in which she—like all of us flawed, frail, imperfect people—begins
the hard work of getting—and doing—better:
I’ll try again
Until I get it
right
I’ll try again
Who knows? This time I might
I want to win
The love that’s
in your heart
Right now,
somehow
I’m gonna make
a brand new start
We all need that
chance to make a new start. As the primary
work of Jewish mysticism, the Zohar notes: Without teshuvah, the
world would not be able to exist, for in its absence, no one could grow, adapt,
create or heal.
The broken tablets
sit, side by side, with the whole ones.
Both are holy.
To hear Kelly
Willis singing “I’ll Try Again”:
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