Mesilas Hasafek: The Way Of Questions

The journey of the past two years has been long and arduous. On October 7th, we were instantly thrust into a war of survival. Though we have witnessed remarkable miracles and achieved impressive victories, much remains unresolved. Above all, the hostages remain trapped in the suffocating tunnels of Gaza. This difficult path stretches on, one we must walk together as a nation, steadfastly defending our land and the legacy of our history.

As the month of Elul unfolds, we embark on a very different journey. It is not collective, but deeply personal. It does not confront external enemies, but the inner questions of self and character. Elul is a hard look at ourselves, into the hidden recesses of who we are. Without this introspection, we cannot grow into better people. Even as the national situation rightly demands our attention, we must not forget this personal journey into the inner worlds that shape us.

Over the coming month, as we search for meaning and work to refine our character, we turn inward with intention. We seek ways to ensure that our self-assessment is honest and genuine. These reflections should not be reserved for ourselves alone, but also applied to how we regard others and their opinions—especially those with whom we disagree.

Yet even as we look inward, our communal bonds are tested. The unity we achieved during the early stages of this war has fractured, and rancor and acrimony have returned. So many issues divide us, and unfortunately, we have slipped into aggressive polemics, harsh caricatures, and sweeping condemnations. Some of the reflective practices of Elul that guide us toward self-improvement can also help us improve the way we engage with others, bringing a measure of understanding and patience into our conversations.

{Humility

Without humility, we cannot meet our own vulnerabilities. Overconfidence hides the insecurities that dwell within us. It takes courage to face ourselves and stand before our shortcomings without pretense. Without honestly looking in the mirror, we cannot begin the process of changing.

Standing before G-d this month helps awaken our inner humility. Once humbled, we can see our flaws clearly and begin the work of refining ourselves and setting our course toward growth.

If humility opens our lens outward, doubt sharpens it inward. Personal change can only follow in the wake of healthy self-doubt. When we are too assured of our own righteousness, we become complacent and uncritically self-assured. These days of Repentance call us to introduce doubt into our lives. Are we living up to our potential? Are we wasting or squandering opportunities? Are we centering G-d and our spiritual commitments?

Over the coming month, we are expected to cultivate healthy self-doubt, giving ourselves the space to reexamine our values and the ways in which we honor them. Healthy doubt is the gateway to real change.

Can we extend the same healthy doubt to the way we respond to people and ideas with which we disagree? Among the confessions of Al Chet, we admit to having sinned through the “thoughts and wonderings of our hearts” (hirhur ha-lev), or with the thoughts of our heart, i.e., evil schemes and machinations.

Talmudic discourse teaches us to hold multiple opinions at once, understanding that the word of G-d contains many explanations. Often, a Talmudic scholar will offer logic both to explain his own position and to explain the position that disputes his. Without doubt, we cling to certainty; with doubt, we discover deeper truth.

Humility and doubt are close, but not identical. Humility means accepting that some understandings lie beyond our grasp and that others may grasp what we cannot. Doubt means revisiting our own convictions, questioning them honestly, and refining them when needed. Together, they allow us both to acknowledge our limits and to sharpen the beliefs we do hold.

When we assess our actions honestly, without airbrushing or concealment, the picture can feel stark and unsettling. As we turn to G-d for forgiveness, we must first reframe the way we see ourselves. In our most private conversations with G-d, we grant ourselves the benefit of the doubt. We tell ourselves that we may have stumbled, acted lazily, or been driven by pettiness, but beneath those failures lies a core of sincerity and goodness. We ask G-d to see that inner goodness and to judge us not only by our lapses but by the purity of our intentions. Repentance begins with the recognition of that goodness and the courage to live by it.

Can we extend that same generosity of judgment outward, toward others? Can we look past sharp disagreements and still recognize the sincerity that underlies them? Even when we differ in perspective or strategy, we can hope that others also pursue noble aims. Their path may diverge from ours, but the heart of their effort can be just as earnest and pure.

{Tolerance Even Without Forgiveness

Isaiah (chapter 1) tells us that if our sins are crimson threads, they can be made white as snow; if they are as red as scarlet, they can become like cleansed wool. Wool can be restored to its original white color by removing the dirt within. Snow, by contrast, does not change what lies beneath; it only blankets the earth in a glistening, pure cover. In asking G-d for forgiveness, we also seek His love to veil our failures, to soften His anger with compassion.

Our society is heavy with anger. We face real, urgent challenges that affect the future of our country. The stress of war weighs heavily on us all, intensifying tensions in families, communities, and public life. Even when we cannot agree, we can focus on what unites us rather than dwelling on what divides us. We may not resolve every conflict, but we can ease hostility and bring a measure of calm to our shared struggles.

Ultimately, teshuvah is not an all-or-nothing proposition. There are many levels of repentance. Even if our return is not fully sincere or wholehearted, G-d accepts it. The same is true of unity. At present, we seem far from that ideal. We are divided, and the stakes are high. Perhaps ideal unity is beyond our reach. Yet we can do much to lower the intensity of our heated arguments. By applying the same principles used for personal growth: patience, humility, and self-reflection, we can navigate our divisions with care. In doing so, we may emerge feeling closer to one another, even if full unity remains beyond our reach. n

Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi at the Hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with Yeshiva University ordination and an MA in English literature. His books include To Be Holy but Human: Reflections Upon My Rebbe, HaRav Yehuda Amital, available at MTaraginBooks.com.