There is comfort in hiding, pulling a blanket over our heads, and pretending to be invisible. We hide our mistakes, our flaws, and even our shame of these flaws and errors.
Then comes Yom Kippur, and we confess it all in public, likely while sitting next to the very people most directly affected by what we do that embarrass us. We join these other people to sing together the litany of our transgressions. And we don't stop there, we confess to a list of transgressions that are likely worse than what we have actually committed. This is the type of situation that most people prefer to avoid, or at least do in a more private setting, but we do it every year, communally, on the very day that the most people attend services.
I suspect many of you can relate when I share than the vidduy prayer has been a painful ritual for me over the years. I am acutely aware of my flaws. In fact, I am sure that people are carrying around hurt on my account that I am not sensitive enough to even recognize. A few years ago, I had to re-frame vidduy and Yom Kippur writ large to stop it from triggering unproductive self-disappointment and shame. This ritual's public and collective nature began to represent the reality that we have all done wrong, protecting me against the sort of lonely embarrassment that can make a person want to hide. I have even come to experience a collective forgiveness in apologizing together in this communal and public vidduy. There is a deep wisdom in our tradition that forces us to be public about our flaws, that stops us from hiding them and the shame they bring.
I think a lot about figurative hiding: when and why we choose to hide, the immediate comfort it provides, and the long-term pain it can cause. I think about it every day when I welcome our kids to school. I wonder what they are bringing with them that is not visible to those around them and what they are intentionally trying to hide. Who doesn't remember the desire to become invisible at some point, if not every day, of their elementary and middle school education? I remember it all too well, and it is part of why I love and believe in small schools.
When we are doing our job well as educators, there is nowhere to hide at Beit Rabban, neither physically nor emotionally. When we know each child to the degree that multiple adults will notice positive or concerning changes in a student, we can ensure that neither their talents nor their pain is hidden. Children (and adults) have social issues that can be ignored or addressed. A holistic Jewish education includes learning to navigate these challenges, name your feelings, understand those of others, disagree, be angry, explain why, try solutions, apologize, and forgive.
I have a ritual that I practice every year on Erev Yom Kippur. I visit each class and ask for mechila and forgiveness from the students and teachers. I can accomplish this practically because our school is sufficiently intiamte that I have enough time in each classroom. I can achieve this with integrity because I know every student and can look at each one with a sincere desire for forgiveness. In each class, I tell the student that I know I have hurt the feelings of some of them and their teachers this year through intentional and unintentional actions. I never intentionally try to hurt them, but I sometimes make decisions that have that impact. Then I ask them to pause and consider whether this has occurred in the past year and, if so, to consider forgiving me silently in their thoughts and hearts rather than out loud. Spoiler alert- students always scream out their apologies! Finally, I tell them I sincerely appreciate it when someone asks me for an apology because I know we can repair our relationship and move forward. I also appreciate it when I feel safe enough to ask others for apologies.
I do this for two reasons- 1) I really want their forgiveness, and 2) I want to model this behavior for them. The behavior I am modeling is not the precise way to apologize. I am trying to model what it looks like to make the decision not to hide, to join in a communal video, and to experience both the vulnerability and the relief that comes with it.
And now I ask you for mechila, forgiveness, both personally and on behalf of our institution. Please forgive Beit Rabban and me for anything we have done that hurt you, intentionally or unintentionally, this year or over the years.
A community like ours, with our children at its center, is inherently complicated and emotional. We inevitably and regularly make mistakes, some more consequential than others, impacting the people most precious to us. Please know that we love your children and are profoundly grateful to be in their lives and part of their ongoing growth. I hope you will accept my apology today (and in the future) as we continue on this powerful partnership of growing great children.
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