Replace Your Yom Kippur Mindset with a Sukkot One:

Yet one question remains: What happened to the shattered tablets?

The Talmud (Bava Batra 14b) teaches that they were placed in the Ark alongside the second, intact set. Not only were the broken tablets preserved; they were placed alongside the pristine second set. Why?

Perhaps they remind us that failure is often an unpleasant but necessary prerequisite for success. It has been said, “A life without sin is a life not lived.” Obviously, the point is not to condone errant behavior, but to acknowledge the reality that, although we will inevitably stumble, we also have the ability to pick ourselves up and learn from our mistakes. What determines who we are, and how we are judged, is how we respond to our failures. Do we resign ourselves to failure, or do we rise up and improve ourselves?

Cain was faced with precisely this dilemma.

This is demonstrated right from the beginning. After rejecting Cain’s offering, God does not write him off as a failure. Instead, He encourages Cain to improve himself and try again. Cain’s failure to take advantage of that opportunity ultimately led to his exile. Let us not make the same mistake.

It has been observed that America’s semiquincentennial was not celebrated with the same gusto as the 1976 Bicentennial. Some of this lack of enthusiasm is undoubtedly the product of today’s hyper-partisan environment, in which people are less inclined to join together in celebration with those who do not share their political outlook. Yet that explanation only scratches the surface.

The idea that America is an irredeemably sinful country has migrated from the extremes of our politics into the mainstream. Twenty-five years after September 11, podcaster Hasan Piker remains popular in certain circles despite his 2019 statement that America “deserved 9/11.” Piker later walked back the remark, saying that he had been referring to the consequences of American foreign policy and acknowledging that his wording had been inappropriate. Michigan Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed, who had appeared with Piker during his campaign, subsequently disavowed the remark, calling it “dumb” and saying that America did not deserve 9/11.

The problem is not believing that America is sinful. America, like every other country, has committed sins. The problem is believing that America is irredeemably sinful. For once you label something “irredeemable,” you write it off. In other words, you arrive at a dead end.

If God had believed that Bnei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) were irredeemable, He would never have given them the second set of tablets. He would have destroyed them instead. We Americans, who reside in a country that reveres the Bible, would be wise to heed the lesson of the shattered tablets. They remind us that the response to moral failure should not be resignation, but improvement. Accepting sin as inevitable and unchangeable will only lead us down the road of decay. As the Mishnah reminds us (Avot 4:2), one sin leads to another, and then another.

We have seen this dynamic play out in the public square in recent years. The fact that antisemitism had become a serious problem on some college campuses was, for years, met with inadequate attention. Haverford College, for example, recently settled litigation brought by members of its Jewish community concerning the college’s handling of allegations of antisemitism. As part of the settlement, Haverford agreed to additional measures to combat antisemitism, including mandatory antisemitism-awareness training and the creation of a College Antisemitism Committee.

At best, university officials who fail to respond adequately to antisemitism are guilty of moral cowardice. At worst, they have abandoned the goal of guiding humanity on an upward trajectory in favor of acquiring raw power to suppress dissenting views.

Such Orwellian behavior, however, has not been limited to college campuses. Just a few years after Congress declined to censure Congresswoman Ilhan Omar over her infamous “Benjamin’s baby” tweet, rhetoric invoking traditional tropes about Jewish financial influence has continued to appear on both the left and the right. Omar subsequently apologized after criticism from Democratic leaders and others.

Likewise, Vice President Vance has continued to associate with Tucker Carlson, despite Carlson’s platforming of figures accused of Holocaust denial and other controversial claims about Jews.

It must be noted that, despite the overall increase in the acceptance of noxious behavior, the practitioners of such behavior seem to have a particular animus toward Israel and the Jewish people.

Why?

The answer is that, rather than normalizing the immorality, debauchery, and lawlessness symbolized by the Golden Calf, our ancestors chose to rise above their sins. The word shofar shares the same root as leshtaper, which means “to improve.” The shofar calls upon us to improve. The Torah challenges us not to accept the world as it is, but to endeavor to make the world as it should be.

But that takes hard work.

For extremists, it is easier to blame Jews for the world’s problems than to actually improve the lot of the working class. Likewise, it is easier for those in power to scapegoat minorities than to address economic woes at home. While such tactics may be politically convenient for those who employ them, they only send us deeper into a downward spiral.

While this is depressing, today—the Day of Atonement and a day of hope—is not a day to be depressed. Ironically, the cure for America’s woes may be less introspection.

Introspection is certainly valuable. It is a key component of teshuvah. But, like most things, it can become counterproductive when taken to excess.

According to Rashi, the reason Moses encouraged Aaron to “approach the altar” as he was inaugurated as the High Priest was that Aaron believed himself unworthy of the position because of his role in creating the Golden Calf. The horns of the altar were reminiscent of the horns of the calf and reminded Aaron, the new High Priest, of his sin.

Though remorse is a necessary step in the teshuvah process, Aaron’s excessive remorse, fueled by ceaseless introspection, caused him to doubt his abilities. His self-examination had become a hindrance to his ability to serve in his divinely ordained capacity and lead the wayward nation back to God.

Moses understood that his elder brother was suffering from what is now known as “Impostor Syndrome.” When people take on a new role, they may fear that they are inadequate or undeserving of the position. Moses realized that the only way to cure Aaron of his feelings of inadequacy was for him to begin functioning as a High Priest. In other words, Aaron needed to fake it until he could make it. By performing his duties, he would come to realize that he was, in fact, worthy of his office.

In essence, when we declare that “we have no worthy deeds” as we recite the Avinu Malkeinu prayer, it can sound as if we are admitting that we suffer from Impostor Syndrome. But how can we have no worthy deeds?

Maimonides encourages us, as we stand in judgment, not to view ourselves as thoroughly wicked people who have no worthy deeds. Instead, we should consider ourselves to be somewhere in the middle, capable of tipping the scales in our favor through the performance of a single mitzvah.

We declare that we have no worth not because we believe we are inherently insufficient, but because we fear that we have exhausted the merits we accrued through our previous mitzvot. Avinu Malkeinu calls upon us not simply to throw ourselves upon the mercy of the heavenly court, but to replenish our spiritual credits by performing the additional mitzvot to which we committed ourselves during our period of self-introspection.

In essence, the time for intense contemplation—Yom Kippur—has come to an end. Now is the time to turn those thoughts into action.

The fact that Sukkot, also known as Chag HaSimchateinu (the holiday of our joy), occurs just days after Yom Kippur reminds us of the danger of excessive introspection. The proper follow-up to the period of introspection we have undergone should not be additional introspection, but joyous celebration, which we express on Sukkot. Our introspection has helped us chart a new course. Now we should set out on that course confidently and joyfully, knowing that we have made the necessary changes and are headed in the right direction.

As it is taught, on Sukkot we stand before our Creator as victorious soldiers, brandishing our lulavim like swords. We have triumphed in battle against our yetzer hara (evil inclination), and we are now prepared to go forward and do our Creator’s work.

Sukkot, from which America’s Thanksgiving is loosely derived, reminds us that endless introspection can become counterproductive. Surely, there is much work to be done to create the “more perfect union” our founders envisioned. But we will succeed only if we avoid trapping ourselves in a perpetual Yom Kippur mindset of ceaseless introspection.

Such a mindset can hinder progress by creating anxiety, doubt, and animosity toward our neighbors. The response to those who exploit our natural desire for introspection in an attempt to divide us by stoking the flames of grievance, resentment, and guilt is not more introspection. Teaching young children that they are victims or oppressors is not a constructive form of introspection; it can instead exacerbate animosity and division. Such behavior can trap us in the past, dooming us to repeat our mistakes.

For this reason, our sages warn us lo titgodedu—“do not separate yourselves into factions.” Rather, we must unite by adopting the mindset of Sukkot, the holiday upon which Thanksgiving is loosely based, and move forward together confidently and joyfully as a nation, secure in the knowledge that we have overcome many obstacles in the past—and that we can continue to overcome them in the future.

God promised Abraham that He would bless those who bless him (Genesis 12:3). America has not been blessed simply because it has blessed the Jewish people, but also because it has embraced the concept of American exceptionalism, which was inspired, in part, by the biblical concept of Israel’s chosenness.

These concepts should not be understood as expressions of elitism. Rather, they reflect a willingness to answer God’s call to improve His world. In order to succeed, we must not view ourselves as an irredeemably hopeless nation, permanently weighted down by our past transgressions.

Instead, we must move forward with confidence and joy, knowing that we are still capable of rising to the challenge.

We, the eldest descendants of our shared patriarch Abraham, must remind our fellow Americans that it is imperative that America remain that “city upon a hill,” as Massachusetts Governor John Winthrop famously described it in 1630—or, as we Jews would say, “a light unto the nations.”

For, as Abraham Lincoln declared during the depths of the horror of the Civil War, America is “the last, best hope of earth.”

We must never give up hope.

It is up to us, as Jews, to remind our fellow countrymen that God has not given up on us—we dare not give up on ourselves.