Repentance and a World of Love
Chapter 4, Mishna 13(b)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld
"Rabbi Eliezer ben (son of) Yaakov said, one who fulfills one mitzvah
(commandment) acquires himself a single defending angel. One who commits one
transgression acquires one accusing angel. Repentance and good deeds serve
as a shield before retribution."
In the previous class we discussed the concept of defending and accusing
angels and their function within G-d's justice system.
Our mishna continues that repentance and good deeds serve to shield us
before G-d's retribution. Repentance is one of G-d's great gifts to mankind,
allowing us to totally and at times immediately undo the spiritual damage we
do to ourselves through sin -- as well as removing the barrier we create
between ourselves and G-d. The Talmud writes that through repentance one
"acquires his world" (i.e., his share in the World to Come) in a moment
(Avoda Zara 17a), and that repentance reaches G-d's heavenly throne (Yoma
86a), completely renewing and reinvigorating a person's relationship with
The above being so, our mishna seems a little less dramatic than we might
have hoped. Repentance is depicted as a shield -- one which protects from
the ravages of sin but does not wipe it away altogether. It seems that the
sin is still present, just that the sinner will not be punished for it.
Now this might be beneficial, but it is far from ideal. When we think about
it, punishment is only a small part of the damage we do ourselves when we
sin. Of far greater concern is the distance we place between ourselves and
G-d. The purpose of our existence -- and the only pleasure our souls, once
separated from our bodies, will care for -- is closeness to G-d. We develop
such a closeness in this world by obeying G-d's will. This transforms us
into more spiritual people -- ones who, so to speak, have more "in common"
with G-d -- and who will be able to enjoy a relationship with G-d in the
hereafter. To the extent that we follow the paths of corruption and
temptation, our souls become diminished. We become less conditioned for
spirituality and less capable of partaking of the Divine Presence in the
World to Come.
In addition to the barrier of distance from G-d, evil corrupts our natures
and our souls. It destroys our innocence and gives us a marked appetite for
evil. What was previously an alluring curiosity becomes a very real craving
-- as well as a behavior pattern difficult to overcome. (I once read
somewhere that it takes a single cigarette to addict a person to nicotine.
Spiritual forces are no doubt no less potent.)
All of this being so, G-d does not have to "punish" us for our sins. We
punish ourselves by conditioning ourselves for evil rather than good. If
anything, G-d's punishment *saves* us from more serious repercussions. As
the sensations of pain we feel upon touching a hot stove, punishment alerts
us to the destructiveness of our behavior -- as well as cleansing us from
the aftereffects of our sins.
If so, once again, why does our mishna describe repentance as a "shield
before retribution?" Is it really nothing more? What of the much more severe
consequences of sin?
The answer is perhaps as follows: The Talmud (Yoma 86b) distinguishes
between two forms of repentance -- that which is done out of fear of G-d and
that which is done out of love. Repentance done out of fear causes one's
premeditated sins to be counted as if they were unintentional ones, whereas
repentance through love causes one's premeditated sins to be counted as
merits. How does this work?
Repentance done out of fear is one in which a person realizes the severity
of his act and the strictness of G-d's justice. Had he or she had any idea
how terrible and damaging his failure was and how gut wrenching the process
of repentance is (and someone who knows what repentance *really* is sees it
more as a gut-wrenching spiritual convulsion than a simple putting the past
out of mind), he would never have allowed himself to slip so. Thus, his
intentional sins are counted as unintentional ones: At the time he sinned
his perceptions were much more limited then they are now. What he did in the
past was an "accident" -- done out of a lack of the knowledge he has now
Now anyone who can do the above and do it well has my highest regard. Not
many of us have the fortitude and the intellectual honesty to truly
recognize our faults for what they are and shape up as a result. We become
so accustomed to our faults that they just don't phase us any more. Yes,
we'd *like* to improve but... well, everyone else does it anyway, etc. To
view our faults in a harsh, unbiased light and see them for their true
wickedness takes a person of particularly strong mettle.
Yet even this highly-laudable level is not at all the ideal. We must not
just repent out of fear -- through an awareness of the severity of sin. True
repentance stems from love -- from a love of the G-d who commanded me so --
and whom I failed.
When a person deepens his or her relationship with G-d, he feels a
closeness, a devotion to the Being who entrusted him with life and invested
it with such beauty, purpose and potential. His life, his existence,
everything he is and can be is a gift from an all-benevolent G-d, who
constantly watches over him and provides him with more opportunities for
growth and improvement. At this very moment, our hearts are beating, our
nerves are transmitting electrical signals, our blood is distributing
oxygen, and so many other processes are going on which we can hardly fathom,
yet alone consciously control. We take for granted such a marvelous
orchestration of processes and bodily functions to such an extent that we
expect to enjoy unending years of problem-free health and productivity. In
fact we'd be surprised if our doctor told us our nerves, retinas, inner
ears, etc. were randomly misfiring. All of this occurs because G-d created
human beings of untold complexity, and He continually renews His will that
we exist and flourish.
When we begin to realize what G-d does and continues to do for us, we begin
to approach repentance through love. When we sin, we are taking the
unimaginable talents and blessings G-d has granted us -- and using those
very blessings to oppose the very G-d who has handed them to us. At the very
moment we sin, G-d -- in an infinite and almost superhuman display of mercy
and slowness to anger -- still allows our hearts to beat and our organs to
function. The ever-powerful sermon of the Great Awakening -- "sinners in the
hands of an angry G-d" (which describes humans as loathsome insects
precariously suspended by G-d over the flames of Hell) was in a way not that
far from the mark. In spite of all our aches, pains and complaints, it's a
world of patience and of almost unremitting Heavenly love.
What does the sinner -- with such new-found depths of recognition -- feel
afterwards? "How could I have betrayed the trust, the gifts G-d has granted
me? How could I have repaid infinite kindness with such smallness and
selfishness?" Such a person repents out of love. The worse he had been
previously, the more he will now be overcome with remorse -- and will bounce
back even closer to G-d. And as the Talmud writes, such a person's sins are
transformed into merits. He will take every past failure and shortcoming and
use them in a remorseful yet determined trek towards G-d and reconciliation.
On the High Holidays and on Yom Kippur in particular, we return to G-d out
of fear. The High Holidays are solemn, almost frightful days. We are
reminded of G-d's kingship, His power, and the severity of His judgment. We
have failed, G-d is strict, and we pound our chests in uneasy contrition. We
would have been far less careless the rest of the year had the Ne'ilah
services been more firmly etched in our minds. We rethink, regret and return
-- yet our repentance is goaded by fear. And, as our mishna states, we will
be shielded from the brunt of the L-rd's wrath. G-d will suspend further
chastisement. He will accept our remorse for the time being -- for want of
anything better -- until we are prepared for true reconciliation with our
Maker. For our repentance is far from over.
But Yom Kippur is followed almost immediately by Sukkos (Tabernacles or
Sukkot). Sukkos is an entirely different, equally inspiring experience.
During Sukkos, as we dwell in our temporary huts (Sukkah), we celebrate
G-d's closeness to us -- and ours to Him -- once signified in the Clouds of
Glory of the desert. For one week of the year, we do not turn to brick,
mortar and home security systems for protection. We live in humble,
temporary structures, not sturdy enough to shelter us from the rain. In this
way, we recognize that G-d is the One who truly protects and watches over
us. We live under His shadow; it is He who lovingly shelters from the
powerful yet temporal rays of the physical world. And we in turn beautify
the Sukkah as a token symbol of our returned love. We have repented through
fear, and G-d now accepts us once again to dwell directly under His wings
and protective embrace.
As we spiritually grow from Yom Kippur to Sukkos, we progress from
repentance through fear to the true repentance of love. We have failed, G-d
has accepted us, and we are once again ready to become His loyal servants
and His proud children.
(Based in part on thoughts heard from R. Ezrachi of the Mir Yeshiva,
Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld and Torah.org.