As we approach the High Holidays, the idea of teshuva seems to be on everyone’s mind. Often, especially in my line of work as a psychiatrist, I get asked questions related to forgiveness. The questions usually take the form of asking if there are acts people commit that mark them as incapable of change, and whether it is possible for these people to obtain forgiveness for their actions if their behavior wouldn’t be different in the future. When thinking about this question of teshuva—a core one for the Yamim Noraim—one model, in particular, comes to mind to help us understand how to approach these questions: the case of the ben sorer u’moreh, the stubborn and wayward son.
In Deuteronomy 21:18-21, the Torah describes a son who is stubborn and rebellious, disobedient to his parents, and “a glutton and a drunkard.” He steals money and then consumes a meal of meat and wine in the company of lowly men. The son is brought before the elders of the city and prosecuted and then, if convicted, “all the men of his city shall stone him to death” (Deuteronomy 21:21). The Torah’s own language implies that this is a last resort—the warning must be given first, and the son must meet certain criteria before he can be sentenced to death. The gemara, in the eighth chapter of Sanhedrin, adds many other highly specific conditions, which functionally make the law nearly impossible to apply in practice. The gemara outlines specific actions, types of food, occasions, and even characteristics of the parents, seeming trying to limit the case out of existence. It then quotes a baraita, taken from the Tosefta Sanhedrin 11:2, which explicitly says that such a son has never existed and will never exist. What, then, is the purpose of all this discussion and how does it help us to understand the idea of teshuva?
Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz, in his book Madrikh La-Moreh, suggests that all of the limitations applied by the gemara intend to teach us that there never has been and never will be a case in which it is legitimate to make assumptions about a person’s future choices. In other words, even as the mishna lays out a conceptual framework of “nidon al shem sofo” (the son is judged on his end, meaning he is killed so that he does not sin further, Mishna Sanhedrin 8:5), it simultaneously makes it clear that there will never be an instance in human experience in which a person can truly be “nidon al shem sofo.” Each person is vested with autonomy and infinite potential for growth.
So what does the stubborn and wayward son teach us about the Yamin Noraim? This idea of people always being able to change, to grow, and to live their own destiny is at the heart of the idea of teshuva. According to Rabbi Schiowitz, the stubborn and wayward son teaches us that while we may never be able to forgive certain acts, people should always be assumed to have the capacity for change. Someone’s past actions can never guarantee something about who they will be in the future.
While a moving idea, the concept that people can change is not universally accepted. The Sfat Emet, in his writings on Parshat Va’era, says that when a person sins once, he should lose his power of choice, because sins draw him to continue to choose bad. He often emphasizes that sin leads to a state of habituation and spiritual decline, which restricts a person’s ability to choose goodness. As the Rabbis say (Bereishit Rabbah 67:8): “The wicked are held captive by their hearts.” How, then, is true change possible? Doesn’t this mean that some people should be judged according to their assumed ends?
Once again, the Torah suggests a possible answer. Moses tells the Israelites, “See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse” (Deuteronomy 11:26). He is reminding them that they are being presented with two paths—one of blessing and one of curse—but only they get to choose which path to take. The Sfat Emet notes that God specifically says that He is placing before them today, the blessing and the curse. Why the usage of the word “today?” The Sfat Emet explains that while technically speaking, a sinner will remain a sinner, God, in His mercy, renews the opportunity each day to choose good, and that is why the verse says: “See, I put before you today”—each and every day—“blessing and curse.”
In Judaism, the belief that God renews the world daily is even found in our liturgy. Every morning during Shacharit, we say, “He renews in His goodness every day, always.” This means that every day, or even every moment, we have the chance to come before God as someone different than who we had been. We, as people, need not be the same from one day or even one minute to the next. When someone grabs on to the opportunity to change and renew, they become a different version of themselves. They are a new being, free of the sin of their previous version.
The Talmud (Chagigah 12b) teaches, “Morning comes and evening leaves, and He renews the acts of creation every day.” Rashi explains this as the daily cycle of light and darkness—morning light “entering” and evening light “leaving”—symbolizing the renewal of creation. While the p’shat might point to a reference to the day-night cycle, many classical and mystical sources interpret it as a reference to God’s ongoing creative activity. This idea also shows up in Jewish philosophy. In the Guide for the Perplexed by Maimonides, he discusses the idea of “yesh me’ayin”—“something from nothing.” The Tanya of the first Lubavicher Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745–1812), uses this term to teach the doctrine of perpetual creation. This means creation is not a one-time event but a continuous act: at every moment the world exists only because God actively sustains and renews it.
In speaking about the wayward son, the gemara instructs us to study and expound on the issue, as that is the only reason the law exists. It is only there for us to obtain merit from that learning. To me, this is the key to the idea of teshuva. The imperative to interpret and gain merit shows us how we ourselves can change by making our way out of a place of fixed determination. Through the process of contemplation and understanding, we will be able to renew ourselves internally. Just as God renews the world minute by minute, we are afforded the ability to renew ourselves and our internal world as soon as we choose to do so.
The process of teshuva involves a review of our actions. We must think carefully and review the data before making choices that will influence the lives of other people. But doing that is not enough. We are then required to approach others and ask, with words, for their forgiveness. This use of our words and power of speech to articulate something has the power to fundamentally change the trajectory of our relationship with another person. As the world was created by God with speech, so too, we must remember that our speech has the power to change the trajectory of the world. As God created the world from nothing at all, so can we create hope and positivity where there exists only absence or negative feelings. This is not a one-time exercise, but rather something that can be changed yearly, daily, even minute by minute. The result of this introspection is that we emerge as different people who look at the world differently, and who can thereby influence our environment in new ways. It is thus through the act of teshuva that we partner with our Creator to enrich and better our lives and the lives of those around us.
May this be a truly new year for us all.
