Teshuva Through a Psychological Lens

Around the High Holidays, many of us begin to feel terrible about ourselves. What should be a season of renewal can instead become a time of self-flagellation.

As a psychologist, I would argue that a sense of worthiness is a prerequisite for the avodah of this time of year. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov teaches in Likutei Moharan that the foundation of spiritual work is to recognize and cherish the good within ourselves.

Without a foundation of worthiness, our mistakes become too threatening to face. We fall back on defenses such as denial and rationalization, or on avoidance strategies like rumination – repetitive thought loops that feel like work but block real change. These maneuvers distort reality, because the truth feels unbearable. We may sink into shame, thinking: I am permanently damaged; why even try?

The first step, then, is to accept ourselves at a fundamental level before facing our negative actions. Think of how we speak to our children: I love you, but I don’t like what you did. That message accomplishes three things: it affirms unconditional worth (“You are lovable, full stop”), clarifies responsibility (“Your action was the problem, not your self”), and empowers change (“You can choose differently next time”).

We need to speak to ourselves in the same way: I love you, but I don’t like what you did. I know you can do better.

To accept ourselves fundamentally requires us to embrace our humanity. Only against a backdrop of acknowledging the human condition can we look non-defensively at our errors. We were designed as a combination of good and bad, spiritual and animal. To be human is to be flawed by design. Our tradition even teaches that God created teshuva before creating humanity, signaling that imperfection was built into creation itself (Pesachim 54a).

Research in psychology echoes this truth: embracing imperfection and struggle as universal fosters resilience and growth. Psychologist Kristin Neff’s work on self-compassion demonstrates this through her concept of “common humanity”: when people see their flaws as part of the human condition, they become more resilient, more motivated, and more able to change. By contrast, shame, the sense that our imperfections make us different, drains the very energy needed for growth. Shame says, “What’s the point? I am irreparably flawed.” Yet it is precisely our imperfections that bind us to all of humankind rather than separate us.

The High Holiday liturgy reflects this truth. Unetaneh Tokef speaks candidly of human frailty: our lives are compared to withering grass, fading shadows, a fleeting dream. And the very structure of communal prayer requires us to confess together, in the plural: Ashamnu, Bagadnu. We declare our sins as a community to remind ourselves that fallibility is part of the human condition, and we face it together. Once we stand on the firm ground of our shared humanity, we can look directly at our missteps, without defenses, and begin the work of correction for the future.

Rabbi Sacks famously distinguishes guilt culture from shame culture. Judaism is a guilt culture: guilt says, “You are worthy, but your behavior needs repair.” Shame culture says, “You are flawed at your core.” Teshuva preserves worth, while activating us to change.

On this Rosh Hashanah, I encourage us all to rest on that bedrock: we are human, and therefore we are flawed by design. And precisely because of this, God created teshuva, the pathway back. From a place of worthiness and belonging, we can face our sins clearly, take responsibility, and step forward into change.

Further Reflections
On Guilt: Although guilt is often seen as negative, evolutionary psychology views all emotions as adaptive signals. The emotion of guilt signals a violated value or bond and prompts repair: I did wrong; I need to act differently. Once the message is received, the guilt has served its purpose and can be released.

On Rumination: Rambam’s words make it clear that Judaism is not about rumination. Rumination is past-focused and unproductive: it feels like “working on a problem,” but in reality it keeps us stuck, feeding shame and blocking constructive action. By contrast, Rambam defines kabbalah al ha’atid – commitment to the future – as the essence of teshuva. True repentance is when we face the same situation again and choose differently. It acknowledges wrongdoing, yet its focus is on responsibility and forward movement. This is profoundly empowering: I don’t need to be flawless; what matters is the next choice I make.