Higher Than Sin

The opening verse in Tehillim chapter 32 reads, אשרי נשוי פשע — the simple translation of which is: “Happy is he whose sins have been borne [by Hashem].” However, the root of the word נשוי is נשא, which also means “raised up,” and thus the Midrash makes the following comment:[1]

אשרי לאדם שהוא גבוה מפשעו ולא שפשעו גבוה ממנו

Happy is the man who is higher than his sin, and not that his sin is higher than him.

What is the meaning of being “higher than one’s sin”?

Rabbi Yosef Leib Bloch of Telz explains that this refers to one’s perspectives on his mistakes. Even if one has erred, as long as it is clear to him that he is “higher than his mistake,” i.e., that this act is beneath him and not befitting for him, his way to recovery is open. When the time comes to get his act together, he will know to jettison this item as inappropriate for him. The blockage to recovery begins when a person does not feel higher than his sin. This may be either due to him having raised the sin up as an act of moral worth, e.g., by justifying or even idealizing it. Alternatively, he may have lowered his vision of himself so that he no longer considers himself to be higher than these acts, for he sees these low acts as a reflection of who he is.[2]

Being “higher than sin” is a crucial perspective for one who wishes to make effective and meaningful use of Yom Kippur. Indeed, according to those who follow the custom of the Vilna Gaon, this chapter of Tehillim is actually the Shir shel Yom (Song of the Day) for Yom Kippur. This is Yom Kippur’s message to the person: “Sin may have lured and ensnared you, but it does not define you, and it does not become you. You may have made mistakes, perhaps even big mistakes, but you are bigger than them!”

Location of Choice

The Rambam presents the concept of free will as one of the foundations of Torah. If a person is not free to choose, then he is not responsible for his actions; he deserves neither reward for his mitzvos, nor punishment for his sins.

My father, Rabbi Isaac Bernstein zt”l, pointed out in this regard that it is fascinating to note that the Rambam’s discussion of free will does not take place in Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah, where he deals with the fundamentals of Torah, but rather in Hilchos Teshuvah.[3] This seems rather puzzling. The ability to choose between right and wrong predates the issue of how to do teshuvah! What is behind this unusual choice of location?

He explained that by talking about free will in the context of teshuvah, the Rambam is highlighting the possibility of choosing good even for one who has already chosen bad. We should not think that the ability to choose exists only at the initial stage, but once one has chosen his path (for better or for worse) he is consigned to that path with no hope of ever being able to change.

To this end, the Rambam waits until Hilchos Teshuvah before discussing free will, for he wishes to reveal the full potency of this idea. One who is despondent of changing for the better simply has no appreciation of what he is capable of. For him, the Rambam has a message: A person is fully capable of choosing the right path, even after having chosen a wrong path![4]

What We Don’t Say, What We Do Say

What emerges from this idea is the full and unwavering confidence that Hashem has in our ability to correct our mistakes and do better. Hashem commands that we repair our mistakes because He knows that we can. [Indeed, we may say with regards to teshuvah that it is one of the most powerful expressions of Hashem’s faith in us!] While Hashem is criticizing our actions, He is at the same time validating and confirming us, both individually and as His people. We should accept and absorb this message of confidence and affirmation, for that is what empowers us to do better.

As a prelude to the Ashamnu Bagadnu confession, we state the following:

שאין אנו עזי פנים וקשי עורף לומר לפניך ה' אלוקנו ואלוקי אבותנו צדיקים אנחנו ולא חטאנו, אבל אנחנו ואבותנו חטאנו

For we are not so brazen and stiff-necked to say before You, Hashem our God and the God of our fathers, that we are tzaddikim (righteous) and we have not sinned, for indeed, we and our fathers have sinned.

These potent words express plainly and directly the fact that we cannot escape the truth of our mistaken actions. Ultimately, we need to confront and recognize them. However, we should pay close attention to what we state we are not prepared to say, and what we recognize that we must say. When it comes to what we are not so brazen to say, we mention two things: that we are tzaddikim and that we have not sinned. When we then conclude with what we do say, it is: “for indeed we have sinned.”

Something has gone missing. In the same way we don’t say “we have not sinned” — for we admit that we have — we also mentioned that we don’t say “we are tzaddikim,” in which case we should conclude that we are not! Why is there no retraction on that first point?

The message here is that Heaven forbid that we should retract the statement that we are tzaddikim! The Jewish People are tzaddikim, and that is what will enable them to rise above their mistakes. We must be prepared to say that we have done bad things, but we will never say that we are bad people. Thus, we do not say that “we are tzaddikim who have not sinned,” but rather, “we are tzaddikim who have,” and we are prepared to try and do better.

There is a widespread custom to bang one’s chest while reciting the vidui. The common and straightforward understanding is that, with this, we are chastising our heart for having led us astray. However, perhaps we can look at this practice from a completely different angle. Sometimes, we knock something because a foreign and unwanted entity has gotten in there, and we are looking to dislodge it and shake it loose.

The Jewish heart is a pure and holy thing. It is possible that over the course of the year, other elements have crept in there and tried to insinuate themselves into our makeup. Vidui is the process of expressing and removing those things. To that end, we knock our hearts to shake them loose of any unwanted substances, so that what will remain is the most beautiful thing in the world – a pure Jewish heart.

B’virkas g’mar chasima tova.

[1] Bereishis Rabbah 22:11.

[2] Shiurei Daas, “Limud HaMussar.”

[3] Chap. 5.

[4] Drashah for Yom Kippur 5746 (1985).