We must repent for our sins of silence and indifference

Autumn is arriving, and Judaism’s most sacred season draws near. When the new moon appears in the evening sky, we will mark Rosh Hashanah – the beginning of the year – and intensify preparations for Yom Kippur, which falls 10 days later.

Yom Kippur means Day of Atonement. It is the holiest date on the calendar. On Yom Kippur, we declare our transgressions. We repent of our wrongdoings.

But we don’t produce individual scripts on Yom Kippur. I won’t have a personally-curated list of sins to recite, and neither will anyone else. Rather, voices all over the world will utter the same words: the words of Al Chet, The Great Confession, composed more than 1,500 years ago.

These are some of the sins I will confess to God on Yom Kippur:

“The sin committed against You by narrow-mindedness.”

“The sin committed against You by hardening the heart.”

“The sin committed against You by the abuse of power.”

“The sin committed against You by exploiting the weak.”

“The sin committed against You by disrespecting teachers.”

“The sin committed against You by hating without cause.”

Although Al Chet is nearly 100 generations old, this list of sins seems written especially for this year. This year in which children were silenced and harmed, families marginalized and erased. This year in which flags and books were banned, lessons and protections taken away. This year in which the powerful preyed on the weak, the strong on the vulnerable.

But none of that was my doing. Those aren’t my sins. Those aren’t my transgressions. I’m not the one who needs to declare them. I’m not the one who needs to repent.

But what if I do?

Just before Al Chet – the Great Confession – the Yom Kippur prayer book includes this passage: “We ask forgiveness . . . for the sin of silence and indifference.”

What if that was my sin? And what if, by committing the sin of silence and indifference, I allowed all the rest to happen? This year – when so many days, maybe every day, demanded my voice, there were days that I said nothing. This year – when so many days, maybe every day, demanded action, there were days that I did nothing.

Those are my sins. Those are my transgressions. I need to declare them. I need to repent.

Recently, I made a new friend: Liz Ballard, a teacher at Pine View School. Liz shared with me some of the challenges that this year has brought, and the responsibility she feels as an openly gay tenured teacher to create a safe space for her students to learn and grow.

Toward the end of our conversation, Liz said this to me:  “I need to not stand on the sidelines, and that means sticking up for marginalized communities. They need to know someone out there has got their backs.  I’m going to have to do more.”

This Yom Kippur, a chorus of voices will recite Al Chet, The Great Confession. But before we do, we will declare the sin of silence. We will repent of the sin of indifference. And we will ask forgiveness.

We’re going to have to do more. I’m going to have to do more.

Elaine Rose Glickman is a rabbi in Sarasota. She is the assistant executive director of the Women’s Rabbinic Network and an advisor to the Social Equity and Education Initiative. Her newest work, “Egypt Is Lost: Lessons for History and America,” will be published this winter.

This article originally appeared on Sarasota Herald-Tribune: Now more than ever, silence and indifference are costly sins