When You Shouldn’t Apologize: A Different Perspective on Selichot

We are living through days of introspection, of taking stock and trying to bring unresolved matters to a close. During this season, good and conscientious people naturally look inward. They examine their actions, reflect on their relationships, and ask forgiveness when necessary.

But sometimes, an apology is not freely given. Sometimes, it is forced.

The Natural Desire to Be Good

The Jewish soul was created sensitive and gentle, longing for love and thirsting for connection. A Jewish child naturally wants to be good. Deep inside, we want to do good for others, perform acts of kindness and mitzvot, feel needed and useful, find a place in another person's heart, and live with an awareness of the Creator before us.

But we do not live in this world alone. We are surrounded by people and relationships, and much of our emotional development takes place within these spaces of connection. Sometimes, through no fault of our own, we are hurt. Sometimes, our kindness, sensitivity, and good nature are used against us.

For a moment, imagine leaving dry land and turning toward a turbulent sea.

The people who live in that sea were also born wanting to be good. At least, that is how they began as children. But some grew up in environments where emotions could not be expressed freely, where vulnerability was unacceptable and crying was considered weakness. Natural emotional needs that were never met gradually became frustration and painful inner places that felt frightening to approach.

Over time, instead of being able to express the healthy humanity that had been denied them, these people closed themselves off and developed harsh patterns of behavior. They became harsh with themselves and harsh with others. It was as though they sealed the spaces between themselves and other people with an impenetrable wall. After suppressing themselves for so long, they became unable not only to see others and respond with compassion and attentiveness, but even to recognize their own genuine needs.

When Strength Becomes a Wall

Behind a facade of strength, they close the gate leading to their own hearts. Perhaps they even experience a small sense of satisfaction when other people are intimidated by them. Unable to face their own inner reckoning, they instead create painful emotional dynamics for the people around them.

Sometimes they take their extensive knowledge of quotations and Jewish sources and use it to intimidate others, explaining to everyone around them what they are doing wrong while refusing to confront their own serious failings. In doing so, they make cynical use of the sacred treasures of Torah.

Everything that is wrong is projected onto the people around them. As for themselves? They are perfect. Sometimes they even manage to portray themselves as both right and victimized. They have a remarkable ability to turn situations upside down, and often they succeed.

They may appear powerful and imposing, or they may speak quietly and seem gentle. But beneath the surface, something is deeply unhealthy.

When Elul Arrives

And then Elul comes. The days of Selichot, forgiveness, and mercy arrive.

Standing on dry land are the people who genuinely want to be good. They want to clear the table and enter the new year with a clean heart. Every Elul, they want to begin again. They want to hold a siddur in their hands and know that there is an open channel between themselves and the Creator. They want to know that no one is angry with them and that there is no one in their lives with whom something remains unresolved.

And so the doubts begin: Perhaps I really am terrible. Perhaps I did something unforgivable. Perhaps I am the one who needs to apologize.

Even though they did nothing wrong and even though they certainly never intended any harm. Fear and intimidation can paralyze a person and convince her that she is the one at fault, even when she was not the one who created the problem in the first place.

Another year passes, and then another, and the people on dry land continue apologizing. For a little while, they feel that everything has been straightened out. Because they apologized, perhaps everything is okay again.

Until the next wave comes from the sea and washes over them, and the cycle begins again.

What Avodat Hamiddot Really Means

There is a reason the Jewish spiritual practice of refining our character is called avodat hamiddot, working on our middot. The Hebrew word middah also means a measure. True emotional and spiritual health requires balance and proportion.

The same principle applies to the body. If blood sugar is too high, it needs to come down. If blood pressure is too low, it needs to rise. Balance does not always mean reducing something. Sometimes it means strengthening what is lacking.

For people who are exceptionally trusting, giving, and accommodating, working on their character does not necessarily mean becoming "good, good, and even better." Sometimes their spiritual work requires the opposite. It means not being afraid to restore balance. It means learning to say no. It means recognizing that protecting yourself is not necessarily selfishness and that your own wellbeing matters too.

When Another Apology Is Not the Answer

Another painful apology will not necessarily solve the problem. If this year you still feel that you must apologize because circumstances leave you feeling that you have no other choice, perhaps you will say the words. But make yourself a promise as well.

That promise can also be part of the process of teshuvah, of returning home. It is a return to a gentle soul that became disconnected from itself because, at the time, it felt there was no other way to survive.

Promise yourself that during the coming year, you will seek appropriate guidance and begin to understand what has been happening inside you. Learn how to repair the effects of years spent apologizing for wrongs that were never yours.

An Apology Is More Than a Word

Asking forgiveness is not simply about saying a word. When an apology is sincere and appropriate, it is powerful and meaningful. Words are among the most important tools we have been given for prayer, connection, and communication.

And yet, when an apology carries years of unresolved pain behind it, another "I'm sorry" may not be what is needed most. To begin a healthier process, it may be necessary first to seek clear guidance, wise counsel, and the advice of trusted Torah authorities.

Selichot calls us to examine ourselves honestly and to repair what truly belongs to us. But genuine introspection also means learning to distinguish between the wrongs we need to correct and burdens of guilt that were never ours to carry.