Pluralistic Perspectives Jonah & Teshuvah: On the Possibility of Change

We invite you to read the following essay from Rabbi Or Rose on the biblical book of Jonah, traditionally read on Yom Kippur afternoon. This essay was originally written for the Center for Action and Contemplation this past summer; Rabbi Rose is honored to share it with the Hebrew College community:

As human beings we are fallible, and therefore, in need of opportunities for learning and growth, for repentance and renewal. In classical Jewish thought the process through which we reflect critically on our behavior, acknowledge our mistakes, and (re)commit ourselves to doing better is called teshuvah, “return.” The choice of this Hebrew term is reflective of a fundamentally optimistic worldview in which people are understood to be essentially good, despite our (seemingly boundless) capacities for sin. Though we may stray regularly from the path of righteousness, there is always the possibility of finding our way home. The ancient rabbis were so committed to this idea that they taught that God created teshuvah before fashioning the world (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Pesahim, 54a). Our sages could not imagine a world in which teshuvah was not woven into the very fabric of being.

One sign of the abiding importance of teshuvah to Jewish religious life is the fact that it is the animating theme of the High Holidays — Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Beginning one month before the Jewish New Year (see more on this below), we are enjoined to begin a process of soul searching and making amends. This journey leads into, and is intensified during, the High Holy Days, also known as “The Days of Awe,” reflecting the gravity of the season. It is no accident that this coincides with the onset of fall (in the Northern hemisphere), as the natural world turns and changes, beckoning us to join in this grand autumnal procession. The ancient rabbis also insisted that teshuvah must be part of our daily lives, and that this vital work not be left for just one period of year. They spoke in direct and challenging ways about the need to take responsibility for our misdeeds, to ask others for forgiveness, and to forgive those who have wronged us. In so doing, the sages argued passionately that change is possible.

The Book of Jonah: A Key Biblical Source for Teshuvah

The transformative power of teshuvah is nowhere better illustrated than in the Book of Jonah. As the contemporary Hasidic writer, Rabbi Menachem Posner states, “G-d¹ spared the people of Nineveh although He had already decreed that they would be destroyed because of their evil ways. This teaches us that no matter our past behavior, G-d’s benevolence and mercy awaits us if we only repent full-heartedly.”

Here are the relevant passages from the biblical text:

Jonah began by going a day’s journey into the city, proclaiming, “Forty more days and Nineveh will be overturned.” The Ninevites believed God. A fast was proclaimed, and all of them, from the greatest to the least, put on sackcloth. When Jonah’s warning reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, took off his royal robes, covered himself with sackcloth and sat down in the dust. This is the proclamation he issued in Nineveh: “By the decree of the king and his nobles: Do not let people or animals, herds or flocks, taste anything; do not let them eat or drink. But let people and animals be covered with sackcloth. Let everyone call urgently on God. Let them give up their evil ways and their violence. Who knows? God may yet relent and with compassion turn from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.” When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened.
-Jonah 3:4-10

As this excerpt indicates, the people of Nineveh—“from the greatest to the least”—heeded Jonah’s warning and engaged in a thoroughgoing process of teshuvah. And the Divine responded compassionately.

While one would expect that the prophet would be pleased by this outcome, this was not the case.

But to Jonah this seemed very wrong, and he became angry. He prayed to God: “Is this not what I said, God, when I was still in my home country? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, who relents from sending calamity.”
-Jonah 4:1-2

The contemporary Jewish scholar, Dr. Devora Steinmetz, makes the following observation about this unexpected response:

Change, it seems, has no place in Jonah’s religious paradigm. Jonah is a man of truth. His full name, Yona ben Amitai, means “Jonah son of truth (emet)” … Jonah, son of truth, criticizes the God who shows mercy—willingness to change the divine decree in response to human change—rather than emet.
–Beginning Anew, p. 308

It is no wonder that we read this text during the afternoon service of Yom Kippur. As the day wanes and hunger and fatigue set in, we might wonder if all our penitential efforts actually matter. The emphatic answer of the Book of Jonah is yes! Part of what makes this story so powerful (in addition the theatrics of Jonah being swallowed by a “big fish”) is that the prophet is the one who must learn the value of mercy, rahamim. In fact, in his complaint to God cited above, Jonah references Exodus 34:6-7, in which the Divine shares with Moses the words of supplication the Israelites should use when seeking God’s forgiveness (following the sin of the Golden Calf). In rabbinic literature these verses became known as the “13 Attributes of Mercy” (Babylonian Talmud 17b) and are a core part of the High Holy Day liturgy (and other services throughout the year). The Book of Jonah teaches us that while truth is vital, it cannot stand alone; the world also needs compassion. Further, truth is not static: it may be that the people of Nineveh were sinners, but it does not mean that they will always be so. And so, as we enter the final hours of Yom Kippur, we revisit this brief biblical text, using it as a source of inspiration for the last stage of the High Holy Day journey. The farcical nature of this ancient tale helps to revive the spirit after many hours of fasting, praying, and introspection. Humor, as we know, can serve as a powerful stimulant for change.

Taking Responsibility: The Foundation of Teshuvah

While the story of Jonah exemplifies the importance of rahamim, it also includes an important message about the need for individuals and communities to acknowledge their wrongdoings and change their ways. While we do not know exactly what the Ninevites did wrong, we do know that the whole city—including the livestock!—went to great lengths to demonstrate their regret and turned to God in forgiveness. The following Talmudic anecdote highlights the need for each of us to take responsibility for our misdeeds:

Rabbi Elazar ben Dordaya… [was] a broken man… [because of his sinful ways].
He asked the mountains and hills to petition God on his behalf… He asked the heavens and earth to petition God on his behalf… He asked the sun and moon to petition God on his behalf… He asked the stars to petition God on his behalf. After all of them refused to come to his assistance, he finally realized: “Only I can do teshuvah, it’s not up to anyone else.”
-Babylonian Talmud, Avodah Zarah 17a

While the moral of the story may seem obvious, we know how hard it can be to admit we have done wrong and to take the necessary steps to address the matter responsibly.

The great twentieth-century philosopher Martin Buber used another biblical story—that of Adam and the sin of the forbidden fruit (Genesis 2)—to illustrate this point:

“Where are you?” Whether God’s question is addressed to Adam or to some other person, God does not expect to learn something God does not know… Adam hides himself to avoid rendering accounts, to escape responsibility for his way of living. Each of us hides for this purpose, for each of us is Adam and finds ourselves in Adam’s situation. To escape responsibility for our life, we turn existence into a system of hide-outs.

–Renew Our Days (2018 edition), p. 156

Whether it is in relation to God or to another person, teshuvah requires us to leave our hide-outs and take responsibility for our actions. The divine voice—above or within—calls to us across space and time—“Where are you?”

Addressing the Wronged Party

One of the hallmarks of the classical Jewish approach to reconciliation is that in seeking forgiveness we must attempt to directly address the person(s) we have wronged. As the great medieval Jewish sage Maimonides teaches (based on earlier rabbinic sources) in his law code: “Repentance on Yom Kippur can only win pardon for offences against God … but there is no forgiveness for offences against one’s neighbor … until the wrong done is put right” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Teshuvah 2:9). While we may pray with great passion and conviction on Yom Kippur, this does not relieve us of the responsibility to seek forgiveness from people we have harmed.

Because the work of genuine teshuvah can be so challenging, the one who chooses to engage in this sacred process is given high praise in classical Jewish thought. As Maimonides writes,

The sages say, “In the place where ba’alei teshuvah (“returnees”) stand, even the completely righteous cannot stand” (BT Berakhot 34b). This means that ba’alei teshuvah achieve greater spiritual heights than those who never transgressed, since they must exert themselves over their lower drives.
-MT, Laws of Teshuvah 7:4

Elsewhere RaMBaM states that the goal of the penitent is to reach “complete teshuvah” (MT, Laws of Teshuvah 2:1). And what does “complete” mean in this context? “A person who confronts the same situation in which they sinned when they have the potential to commit [the sin again], and, nevertheless, abstains and does not commit it because of their teshuvah, and “not because of fear or a lack of vigor” (Ibid). The ba’al teshuvah is held in such esteem because of the great effort it takes to make real and lasting change.

Preparation for the High Holy Days & Life Thereafter

As was explained above, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are considered among the holiest days of the Jewish year. Together they constitute the “High Holy Days” or “Days of Awe.” It is during this 10-day period that Jewish people traditionally engage in an intensive process of “soul accounting” (heshbon nefesh), as they mark the beginning of a new calendar year (Rosh Hashanah literally means “The Head of the Year”). What is less widely known, is that the season of repentance and renewal actually begins one month before Rosh Hashanah, on the first day of the Hebrew month of Elul, reaching its climax on Yom Kippur, “The Day of Atonement.” Given the difficulty of this work, it is fitting that we set aside a longer period—40 days (also an important biblical number for journeys)—for it.

There is a popular teaching that the month of Elul should be read symbolically as the acronym for the scriptural phrase, Ani le’dodi ve’dodi li, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” (Song of Songs 6:3). The implication of this playful reading is that God and the people of Israel are partners in a loving relationship, and that the month of Elul is a time to reconnect or deepen our relationship with the Divine. This interpretation can be helpful in framing this season of return as one in which we lovingly attempt to better ourselves and improve our relationships with others. It also serves as a complement to other, more hierarchical images, of God in the High Holy Day liturgy such as “King,” “Judge,” and “Father.”

As the scholar of liturgy, Rabbi Reuven Hammer, writes:

As we approach the High Holy Days… we should not allow their seriousness and solemnity to overwhelm us. Rather, we should approach them with the knowledge that… God is ready to accept our repentance with love and to enter a relationship with us that is close and intimate… If we aspire to be worthy of that relationship, we will find God to be a loving and willing partner.
–The Jerusalem Post, August 26, 2011

One dramatic practice designed to call us back to God, self, and other during this season is the sounding of the shofar, ram’s horn, daily throughout the month of Elul. It reminds us that we are moving closer to Rosh Hashanah and that we must not delay in attending to the holy work of teshuvah. Today is the day to sift and sort, to honestly assess our accomplishments and failures over the past year, and to act to better ourselves. Maimonides describes the call of the shofar as a kind of spiritual siren, calling out to us: “Awake, you sleepers… Arouse you slumbers… consider your deeds…” (MT, Laws of Teshuvah, 3:4).

The contemporary Jewish educator, Sarah Chandler, adds another layer to the meaning of this embodied ritual:

The call of this horn also reminds us that our words—our sounds—have extreme power. Listening to the voice of the shofar, we are reminded that we too must listen to pleas of forgiveness. With simple phrases—“I’m sorry” or “I forgive you”—we can repair broken relationships, or deepen our most meaningful human connections.
–My Jewish Learning.com

The shofar is also sounded many times on Rosh Hashanah and is used to close the final worship service of Yom Kippur. The hope is that these recurring calls move us to articulate our own sacred “sounds” of healing.

Because Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are such prominent days on the Jewish calendar, it is important to remember that we must also engage in teshuvah daily throughout the year. While we need designated specific times to focus intensively on different aspects of the human experience—liberation, loss, recovery, and reconciliation—we cannot wait until the month of Elul to mend our ways. The High Holy Days provide a focal point for teshuvah, which should inform the way we live the rest of the year. It is for this reason that we include prayers for return and renewal in our three daily worship services. We recite the following words, for example, in the Amidah (“Standing”) prayer—morning, afternoon, and evening:

“Return us (Hashiveinu) our Father to your Torah;
draw us near our Sovereign to your service;
restore us to your presence in complete repentance.
Blessed are You, Adonai, who desires teshuvah.”

This is the lesson that Jonah “son of Truth” needed to learn—and one we all need to learn anew: The “gates of return” are open to us daily (Deuteronomy Rabbah 2:12) and the Divine lovingly “desires” our return. If we are willing to make the effort, change is possible. The High Holy Days offer us a time-honored ritual framework in which to reinvest in the unfolding process of teshuvah as we enter a new year.²

¹Following earlier precedent, some Jewish writers do not spell out the word “G-d” in full in English as a sign of respect for the Divine.
²This article was originally written for the Center for Action & Contemplation; it is republished here with permission.

Rabbi Or Rose is the founding Director of the Betty Ann Greenbaum Miller Center for Interreligious Learning & Leadership of Hebrew College and a senior consultant to Interfaith America. Rabbi Rose is publisher of The Journal of Interreligious Studies and the co-editor of the award-winning anthologies, My Neighbor’s Faith: Stories of Interreligious Encounter, Growth, and Transformation (Orbis, 2012) and With the Best of Intentions: Interreligious Missteps & Mistakes (Orbis, 2023). He is currently completing a biography of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel (d. 1972) for teen readers (ages 12-15, Monkfish, 2025).