Confession and Progression

My first stop was the bookshops crowding the alleys of Meah Shearim. I chose a slim pamphlet with a man’s stooped, contrite profile silhouetted on the cover. It contained the text of the Vidui, accompanied by an explanation for each sin, and relevant examples. I felt like I’d struck gold: The repetitious, cryptic language of Vidui suddenly assumes meaning and import.

This year, I decided, my Vidui will be personalized. I meditated on every Ashamnu and Al Cheit, considered which of the year’s misdeeds corresponded to the examples given. Then I meticulously recorded an example for each of my sins between the tightly printed lines.

That year, I pronounced the first meaningful Vidui of my life.

A year of learning and friendships and meteoric growth tumbled by, and before I knew it, Yom Kippur beckoned. I once again purchased the thin volume with the stooped man on the cover, but before I charted my spiritual deficits, I reviewed my inscriptions from last year’s pamphlet. To my shock and glee, so many of the last year’s confessions were utterly irrelevant. A year’s worth of phenomenal effort to transform my dress, speech, and behavior was arrayed before me, indisputable in blue Bic ink.