Yom Kippur Apologies: Just Do It.
Last year, spurred on by the impending Yom Kippur’s entreaty to atone for sins, I bought an airline ticket to visit a friend. I was looking forward to seeing her, except I was dreading one of the reasons for my trip — to apologize to her for something I did in the ’80’s.
Originally, I’d hoped that if I ignored my insensitivity, the awkwardness would fade and eventually I wouldn’t even have to apologize. Apparently I’m too sensitive to be insensitive. My gaffe plagued me over the years. Finally I summoned my strength and committed to addressing the elephant in the room.
It was the Yom Kippur version of “Just DO it.”
While walking around the lake with my friend, I blurted out my apology. I took full responsibility. My friend hugged me and said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” I felt immense relief. And then foolishness. For this, I’d tormented myself for decades? And then I felt, well, I felt a teeny bit like Larry David on “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” How is it possible that something I so clearly remembered and from which *I* suffered, not even make an impact on my friend? Did I mean so little to her?
Being sensitive is exhausting.
I had a similar experience with another friend (This gaffe was also from the ’80’s. Apparently, I take a long time to do the right thing, and the 80’s were not my finest decade). When I confessed (this time, via Facebook messenger — I was on a budget) he too said he didn’t remember the incident in question. Again, relief.
But also concern. I’d been tormenting myself for thirty years for nothing. And it was impossible that I hadn’t wrongly offended anyone else. Which meant, there were people out there that I had offended and to whom I owed an apology. To my horror, I realized that not only was I offensive, but I was so thick as to not even realize how I had offended and to whom.
It never occurred to me that I could be awful to someone without realizing it (which seems as offensive as possibly the actual offending act). And, no, I am not even tempted to send out the type of general apology meme I see around the High Holy Days in my Facebook Feed (“I’m sorry if I’ve offended anyone out there. Please forgive me.”). Nothing takes the meat out of an apology more than being cavalierly impersonal.
So this year I’m realizing that the hard part may not be in apologizing, but in realizing when I’ve been hurtful.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash