Teshuvah is generally understood as returning after one has strayed. Another often used term is kaparah, atonement, which is associated with wrong-doing. One whose observance is lacking requires a kaparah. Once he deduces that the time for teshuvah, returm, has arrived, he puts aside all of the excuses which he has used to live a lifestyle devoid of Jewish religious observance. He makes his decision to return – but to what is he returning? This is a compelling question concerning the many Jews who have been raised with little to no exposure to Torah and mitzvos. Having never been taught, having never experienced authentic Yiddishkeit, in what sense are they “returning”? Why are they referred to as baalei teshuvah?
I think the answer lies in understanding the essence of a Jew. A Jew is never disconnected from his Source. Regardless of where he was raised, what he was or was not taught, how distant he may appear, the Jewish neshamah remains eternally bound to Hashem. Thus, teshuvah is not merely a return from sin; it is a return to oneself. It is a homecoming to the spiritual root that has always defined one’s identity.
Indeed, such individuals may not bear responsibility for much of what they fail to observe. Chazal teach us the concept of a tinok shenishbah, one who has been deprived of the opportunity to know. Yet, while culpability may be diminished, the yearning of the soul remains. Each of those individuals has mitzvos left undone, opportunities unrealized, and a relationship waiting to be discovered. Therefore, when a previously unaffiliated Jew embraces Torah, he is not entering a foreign world. He is not becoming one of us; he always has been one of us. The term, baal teshuvah is in and of itself the greatest tribute to that sanctity of every Jew. No matter how far one has wandered, no matter how little one knows, he possesses a place from which he came and to which he can always return.
Hashem is that Source. The Jewish people are that family. Teshuvah is the realization that one has never truly been lost. I personally gained an important insight concerning teshuvah through my association with an individual whose journey is still unfolding. He is far from becoming a baal teshuvah in the fullest sense of the term; yet, his story illustrates a phenomenon that, I suspect, is not uncommon.
I made the acquaintance of “Fred” (not his real name) many years ago when I engaged his accounting firm to prepare my taxes. Over time, a friendship developed and, as we began learning together on a weekly basis, he gradually opened up concerning his life.
Fred was raised in a thoroughly secular home that viewed Orthodoxy and its adherents with little admiration. To say that Judaism played no role in his upbringing would be an understatement. He knew virtually nothing about Judaism – not even the basic significance of Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur. His family conducted what they called a Pesach Seder, but,beyond that, Judaism was absent from his life.
After college, eager to experience the world, Fred moved to Korea. There he met and married a non-Jewish woman, and together they had three children. Eventually, the marriage dissolved. Fred returned to Cleveland with his children and devoted himself to raising them. He provided them with every opportunity, financing excellent schools and universities. They matured into successful adults, pursuing respectable careers and productive lives.
Yet, despite all of this apparent success and the nachas he expected to derive from his accomplishments, Fred found himself increasingly plagued by an inexplicable emptiness. Something was missing.
Throughout these years, we continued our weekly learning sessions. He found them meaningful and intellectually stimulating. Then, after his former wife relocated to Cleveland, tensions within the family began to surface. His relationships with his children deteriorated. Their lack of appreciation for his sacrifices troubled him deeply.
One day he asked me, “Why are your children so different? Why do they display such respect and gratitude?”
I explained that a Torah family is bound together, not only biologically, but also spiritually. The shared commitment to Torah and mitzvos creates a bond that transcends natural affection. It unites generations through a common identity and mission.
As time passed, Fred spent more time with our family. He joined us for my grandson’s bar mitzvah and attended shul with us. What affected him most was, not the ceremony itself, but the warmth with which complete strangers welcomed him. They treated him as a brother.
At one point, he turned to me and said words I will never forget, “I feel like I have come home. For the first time in my life, I know who I am. I finally have an identity.”
Fred is still far from observant. His journey is not complete. Yet, perhaps this is the first step towards genuine teshuvah. Before one can return to Hashem, he must first discover where he belongs. Teshuvah begins when a Jew recognizes that, regardless of how distant he may have wandered, his soul still longs for home. Perhaps we can suggest that, while mitzvah observance defines an observant Jew, teshuvah, the process of return, does not necessarily begin with observance. A step must precede this life change. This is the moment that he realizes that “I belong to something greater than myself. I have come home.” At this point, the journey of return has already begun.
