Repentance and the Reversal of Time: Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s Temporal Philosophy

Abstract

This article discusses the dominant understanding of the concept of repentance in the thought of the Jewish philosopher Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, and the original interpretation he offers of this religious idea. It explores how his interpretation of the way repentance operates upon the human soul is based on Max Scheler’s thought regarding remorse, while adding another layer of meaning grounded in Henri Bergson’s philosophical conception of time as “durée”. Against this background, the article argues that Soloveitchik’s identification with the notion of time as “durée” stems both from a philosophical perspective that runs through significant parts of his thought, and from a personal biographical stance and his understanding of the religious experience of the talmid chacham (Torah scholar)—one who internalizes Torah study and dialectical reasoning in essential life concerns. This stance structures both the mental experience that enables repentance, contingency, and reversibility in time, and the homiletical–intellectual performance that affirms and constructs a Hegelian dialectic between past and present, ultimately forming a synthesis that is repentance.

1. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik: His Life and Thought

Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik (1903–1993) was born in Poland to a distinguished Lithuanian rabbinic family whose scholars were students of the “Vilna Gaon”. He received a general education in Europe and studied at the University of Berlin, where he earned a doctorate focused on the philosophy of Hermann Cohen. He later immigrated to the United States with his family, where he served as a congregational rabbi and rosh yeshiva (head of a Talmudic academy), eventually becoming a leading figure in Modern Orthodox Judaism. He is considered the most influential Orthodox Jewish thinker in America during the second half of the 20th century. His religious positions, encouragement of broad education and academic studies, and overall openness to modernity drew criticism from Ultra-Orthodox circles in the U.S., despite the respect he garnered from their leaders due to his exceptional Torah scholarship.

Rabbi Soloveitchik’s writing is marked by the integration of philosophical and Jewish thought, conveyed through modern and poetic language. His works frequently explore the tension between a Jewish existence rooted in halakhah and tradition and the world of modern philosophy. His writing draws on neo-Kantian philosophical models and existentialist perspectives, emphasizing the dialectical and spiritual tension that defines the life of a religious individual in the modern world—an existence caught between two non-harmonious realms (Kaplan 1973). In his view, the believer’s fundamental existential tension also emerges in their relationship with God, as they vacillate between creative freedom and control over their lives and a religious covenant grounded in obedience. Soloveitchik’s innovation lies in presenting the dynamic halakhic system as a means to maintain this balance (Finkelman 2001). Within this framework, he stresses the importance of combining intellectual creativity with halakhic commitment, maintaining an equilibrium between spiritual elevation and practical action in the world (ibid.).

2. A Religious and Philosophical Debate About Repentance

Soloveitchik’s original discussion of repentance must be understood within the broader context of his religious philosophy. One of the recurring themes in his thought is the idea that Jewish religion and religiosity are not mere responses to the historical human condition, nor an escape from it, but rather acts of constitutive self-creation by the individual within their world. This idea is powerfully and vividly expressed in his essay Halakhic Man (Ish HaHalakhah in the original Hebrew) (Soloveitchik 1983)—which serves as a central focus of this article—and reaches its fullest expression in the idea of repentance.

Scholars have discussed the question of how central the various figures employed by Rabbi Soloveitchik are in defining human postures, and to what extent he himself identifies with them. Dov Schwartz argues: “Halakhic Man does not represent R. Soloveitchik’s authentic views about the proper existence of the religious person, since in his other essays (The Halakhic Mind, “From Thence You Shall Seek”) he identifies with the homo religiosus who relies on independent cognition, logic, rationality, and the law” (Schwartz 2007). However, it is possible to examine each topic on its own terms. Regarding the specific subject of repentance, it seems that Goldman is correct in his claim that—although a dedicated book of his sermons on the topic (On Repentance) was published—the core of Soloveitchik’s thought on the subject is found in Halakhic Man: “From a philosophical-theoretical standpoint, despite its brevity, this is Rabbi Soloveitchik’s most important treatment of the topic of teshuvah” (Goldman, p. 134). Below, I will attempt to show that a fundamental trait in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s personality links him to the figure of the Halakhic Man and to the process of repentance that takes place within him.

The figure of the Halakhic Man gradually takes shape throughout the book and ultimately finds its most complete expression in the unique possibility of repentance. The Halakhic Man is the creative human being, and this idea is fully realized in the mitzvah of repentance, “in all its force and splendor” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 110), as will be further explored below. According to Soloveitchik, repentance is a central principle in the life of the believer—one whose importance can hardly be overstated. Soloveitchik approached the idea of repentance in a novel way, shaping it through dialogue both with and against both religious perspectives that offer alternative understandings of repentance, as well as philosophical approaches that question its very possibility and validity.

3. Religious Conceptions That Challenge the Possibility of Repentance

There are two religious conceptions that Rabbi Soloveitchik explicitly rejects early on in his treatment of repentance, as they challenge its very possibility. The first is the mindset of the religious man—homo religiosus—who tends to divert thought away from the concrete and earthly reality in favor of seeking the hidden and mysterious. This tendency dissolves the individual’s sense of self and leads him to seek salvation from an external source. The homo religiosus, in his religious fervor, presents the idea of repentance as a heavenly atonement that protects from punishment. Rabbi Soloveitchik characterizes this as “an empty regret which does not create anything” (ibid., p. 113). For such a person, feelings of guilt and self-hatred constitute religious seriousness and provide the grounds for repentance through physical mortification and mental anguish. In this conception, repentance becomes possible only through divine grace and miracle, assigning the sinner a passive and helpless existence. Soloveitchik criticizes the passivity of this stance, the surrender and lowly spirit of the sinful penitent, whose only recourse is to hope for a supernatural event beyond reality and consciousness, while he himself remains within his sin, consumed by it. In contrast, the person of elevated stature—the creative Halakhic Man—is the complete opposite of this pitiable figure.1

The second conception is what we might term an “Arcadian religion”,2 toward which Rabbi Soloveitchik expresses sharp intolerance. This is “the position that is prevalent nowadays in religious circles”, both Christian and Jewish, “that the religious experience is of a very simple nature”, devoid of the complexities and upheavals inherent to culture or spiritual development. It offers a source of rest and serenity, shaping a religiosity without psychological crises, pain, or tension—“a refuge of grace and mercy for the despondent and desperate” (ibid., p. 142). Soloveitchik presents this view mockingly, seeing it as a false and dangerous understanding of religion—one that dilutes and flattens the religious emotion, blocking the possibility of profound and lofty religiosity. For him, the ultimate measure of the truth and depth of religiosity is the possibility of repentance, and he insists that its realization depends precisely on the elements that Arcadian religion obscures: “The pangs of searching and groping, the tortures of spiritual crises, exhausting treks of the soul” (ibid., p. 143). In short, it is a religious stance that either sedates the turbulent soul or severs it from the storms of real life.

4. Philosophical Critiques of Repentance

Rabbi Soloveitchik then turns to present the critiques of repentance found in the writings of Spinoza, Nietzsche, and Kant—critiques that he takes seriously and, in some respects, integrates into his own thought. He shares their aversion to self-indictment, the loss of self-worth, and the inclination toward sadness and weakness that characterizes various religious manifestations of repentance, and he addresses their criticisms explicitly and affirmatively. Yet, for Soloveitchik, it is essential to articulate a concept of repentance that can withstand these attacks.

From a rationalist psychological perspective, Spinoza critiques repentance by asserting that “repentance is not a virtue, i.e., does not arise from reason” (Spinoza 2002). For Spinoza, remorse stems from emotion, not rationality. He continues: “The subject suffers himself to be overcome first by a wicked desire [cupiditas], and then by pain”. The misery and sorrow entailed in the process of remorse perpetuate a destructive mindset and deplete the penitent’s personal strength. The individual becomes degraded and loses potential nobility.

Nietzsche’s harsh critique of repentance targets the mechanism that the (Christian) individual develops, whereby he takes guilt upon himself before God. The guilt, in the sinner’s imagination, becomes so detached from reality that it is removed from his own hands and placed entirely in the hands of heaven, subject wholly to divine mercy. This represents a total abdication of responsibility and an act of self-torment beyond all measure (Genealogy of Morals, II:22).

Another critique that Rabbi Soloveitchik clearly engages with is that of Immanuel Kant. Kant challenges the notion of atonement (kapparah) in repentance, particularly due to the sinner’s lack of self-conviction that his sins have been forgiven—when such forgiveness is granted passively and outside the realm of reason (Kant 1988). Moreover, the idea that atonement and forgiveness are dependent on an external factor, Kant argues, degrades the sinner into moral submissiveness and leads to behaviors of servility and flattery toward the atoning agent (ibid., pp. 177–78).Kant asserts that even after a person begins living a righteous life, “this obligation cannot be erased from him” (ibid., p. 88). His broader critique of what he calls “fetish-faith” (ibid., p. 185)—a form of religiosity that irrationally separates actions from desired outcomes—applies to the idea of repentance even more forcefully. This kind of faith, Kant argues, “would of course have to be called an instance of God’s superabundant grace, were it not rather a grace dreamed up in slothful trust, or itself perhaps an instance of hypocritical trust” (ibid., p. 185).

Kant’s most fundamental critique of the atonement process concerns his demand for the intrinsic autonomy of the human being. That is, however much a person may sin, he must possess the capacity to atone “from the fullness of his own holiness”, and not through any external source.3

In addition, Soloveitchik contends with radical conceptions found even within the Talmudic tradition to which he is committed—views that posit the possibility of repentance transforming sins into unintentional misdeeds (shgagot), and even into merits (zekhuyot). These ideas—perhaps especially these—motivate him to construct and shape a complex and original notion of repentance, one entrusted to the hands of the religious individual in the modern era.

5. Repentance as Creation and Time as the Path of Teshuvah

Rabbi Soloveitchik offers a different understanding of the concept of repentance, seeing it as a stance of autonomy and creativity. The penitent enacts the process of repentance on their own initiative, for their own sake, by mobilizing their intellectual and emotional resources toward the re-creation of the self. In repenting, the individual delves into the depths of their own reality and acts with complete freedom—freedom that arises from choice, not bound by internal states, emotions, or subjectivity. The process of repentance operates freely even within the most basic structures of natural law, as it embraces the principle of the reversibility of time.

A defining feature of repentance as self-redemption is the assertiveness of the penitent and the active engagement with the self that is required. Here, one can detect the influence of Max Scheler’s phenomenological treatment of remorse on Rabbi Soloveitchik, a connection Soloveitchik himself acknowledges.4 In fact, Soloveitchik’s model of repentance involves two stages: the stage of being with the sin, and the stage of return from it. The first stage, which largely aligns with Scheler’s description, is a phase of phenomenological remorse. Despite the problematic elements critics have identified in remorse—its negating and destructive tendencies—Scheler argues that remorse, as an inner emotional process, functions as both release and self-reconstruction (Scheler 1960, p. 36). Refusing to deny or reject the inner call of conscience allows one to see remorse as a constructive and beneficial process of self-healing that operates upon the self and through the individual’s own initiative and capacity (ibid., p. 39). This possibility of “dwelling with the sin” develops from the recognition that, at any given moment, the self includes past experiences, a lived present, and a future composed of anticipation, remembrance, and attentiveness. As Scheler puts it: “It is by virtue of this wonderful fact […] the sense and worth of the whole of our life still come, at every moment of our life, within the scope of our freedom of action […] there is also no part of our past life which […] might not still be genuinely altered in its meaning and worth” (ibid., p. 40).

Rabbi Soloveitchik highlights this point as a powerful expression of the penitent’s freedom to cast off the law of causality and the fixed identity imposed by the phenomenon of time. He explicitly conditions the very possibility of repentance on the perception of time as reversible: “The reversibility of time and of the causal order is fundamental in religion, for otherwise the principle of conversion [i.e., repentance] would be sheer nonsense” (Soloveitchik 1986).

In doing so, Soloveitchik embraces Henri Bergson’s ideas, particularly his contrast between physical and existential experiences of time. Bergson views time as a fluid duration—durée—in which the past actively intermingles with and infuses the present, while the future is already emerging in the now. As Bergson describes it, “In this ‘time’ there are no milestones separating past, present, and future”, even though these still retain their respective temporal characteristics. This is a “multidimensional compenetrating and overlapping past, present, and future” (Soloveitchik 1993, pp. 64–65).

In Scheler’s second stage of repentance, the act involves returning in memory to the moment of the sin, regretting both the action and the person one was at that time. In doing so, the sinner severs that sinful version of themselves from their current identity, achieving a kind of “rebirth”. The self, in its totality, is rebuilt anew.

Rabbi Soloveitchik, however, diverges sharply from Scheler on this point.5 For Soloveitchik, repentance does not occur through reflection on the past in isolation from one’s evolving self. Rather, it is the future-oriented creativity that makes remorse over the past possible in the first place. In Soloveitchik’s portrayal of repentance as enacted by the halakhic man, it is precisely commitment to the future that enables repentance for the past. This marks a strong departure from Scheler, who seeks to uproot sin entirely: “Remorse severs the life-roots of the continuing act of guilt; it uproots desires and deeds along with their origins” (Scheler 1960, pp. 42–43). By contrast, Soloveitchik’s halakhic conception of repentance is an event in which the penitent does not erase their past but rather confronts it, conquering it through the power of the future: “The future imprints its stamp on the past and determines its image […] The main principle of repentance is that the future dominate the past and there reign over it in unbounded fashion” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 115). Scheler seeks to sever the life-root of guilt, but Soloveitchik refuses to abandon any life-root whatsoever. For him, the penitent distinguishes between the dead parts of the past and the living parts (ibid.). The past that is dead becomes irrelevant, no longer part of one’s meaningful and present memory (Soloveitchik 2018; ibid., pp. 164–68). However, the living aspects of the sin—even though they reside in the fallen, forbidden realm—can be successfully integrated into the present and even transformed into a source of spiritual power: “the Jewish repentant strives to “remember” his sin, וחטאתי נגדי תמיד [Tehillim 51:5]. He strives to convert his sin into a spiritual springboard for increased inspiration and evaluation” (Soloveitchik 1993, p. 76).

6. Returning to the Critiques of Repentance

At this stage, we may revisit the various critiques of repentance cited earlier. Spinoza’s criticism of remorse may already find a reply in Scheler’s conception of remorse as a process of self-healing of the human soul—and thus is far from devoid of value. Scheler identified a dimension beyond Spinoza’s binary of emotion/reason: the self, in which he located the source of remorse as a healing and effective process. Rabbi Soloveitchik’s concept of repentance goes further, demonstrating that repentance can also involve rationality, whereby the sin itself becomes a productive element in the life of the penitent. Rabbi Soloveitchik’s emphasis on the Talmudic statement that intentional sins can be transformed into merits (Yoma 86b), and his integration of this idea into the psychological and conscious process of the penitent, neutralizes Spinoza’s critique. The double misery Spinoza feared becomes, through repentance, a double success: the penitent gains strength and displays his nobility more forcefully.

With regard to Nietzsche’s critique, Rabbi Soloveitchik’s response lies in the absolute, singular responsibility which the penitent assumes toward their own past. By returning to past actions through the lens of the present and future—reshaping and reinterpreting them—the penitent becomes a fully present human being, affirming their own self, far from any inclination toward self-torment or surrender to divine whim. Soloveitchik’s encapsulation of the essence of repentance—“The main principle of repentance is that the future dominate the past and there reign over it in unbounded fashion”—resonates with the powerful humanity of Nietzsche’s heroic figure.6

As for Kant’s objections, they too are addressed at a fundamental level. The process of repentance requires the sinner to determine for themselves the way in which the sin may be integrated meaningfully into their life—thus answering Kant’s demand for moral autonomy. The penitent’s reason is essential to the process. It is not something conferred by an external source. The sinner’s past wrongs serve as an impetus for vigilance in the pursuit of a good and upright life. The obligation, indeed, is never erased—but the continuing life of the penitent, who manages to transform sin into a force for righteousness, unites the disparate aspects of his life and fulfills “the fullness of his own holiness” (Kant 1988, p. 144). Repentance, then, is not divine grace bestowed from above, but the sovereign act of self-redemption by the human being.

In sum, Soloveitchik understands the person—and the penitent in particular—as “his own creator and innovator. He is his own redeemer; he is his own messiah who has come to redeem himself from the darkness of his exile to the light of his personal redemption” (Soloveitchik 2018, p. 110). He positions the individual as redeemer, creator of their world, and self-affirming through their own power. This provides a deep response to the various philosophical critiques and constructs a meaningful concept of repentance for the modern person.

7. The Commandment of Repentance—The Force and Splendor of Creativity

Building on the premises we have laid out, we propose that Rabbi Soloveitchik’s concept of repentance is not merely an extension of his ideal religious figure—the halakhic man—but that repentance itself, in his thought, is the existential realization and culmination of the halakhic man’s essence. In other words, the process of repentance, as envisioned by Soloveitchik, is the pinnacle of the halakhic man’s being as a creator and a redeemer of the self.

Soloveitchik’s deep engagement with repentance, expressed in his sermons compiled in the book On Repentance, leaves no doubt about its central importance to him. Attention to his concluding remarks in Halakhic Man reveals that repentance is the crown jewel of halakhah: “The Halakhah introduced the concept of creation, in all its force and splendor, into [...] the commandment of repentance” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 110). Within the constraints of human existence—its givenness and thrownness within reality—the halakhic structure of repentance enables the individual to become a creator. Soloveitchik asserts that the idea of the human being as a creator is woven into the fabric of halakhah and is most powerfully and aesthetically expressed in the concept of repentance.

Therefore, repentance is not merely “one more commandment” among the 613, but a foundational element at the core of human existence. We argue that this concept is rooted both in a philosophical vision of the ideal religious personality and in the biographical and existential experience of Rabbi Soloveitchik himself.

From a philosophical angle, Kaplan has already emphasized that Soloveitchik’s concept of repentance continues the tradition of Lithuanian scholarly dialectics (lamdanut) (Kaplan 2004, pp. 239–43). Soloveitchik’s resistance to viewing repentance as dwelling in the sinner’s past critiques the Mussar movement and reflects his opposition to some of its key principles. Yet we suggest that there is a positive aspect in the Lithuanian dialectical tradition that shapes—and even constitutes—the process of repentance. According to Soloveitchik, the mental disposition of the Torah scholar not only guides repentance but generates it. It prepares the soul to engage in dialectical negotiation with the past and reorganize the totality of one’s life. To understand this, we must clarify who the torah scholar—the halakhic man—is, what his emotional posture, intellectual engagement, and consciousness entail, with emphasis on those traits relevant to repentance.

Rabbi Soloveitchik understands repentance through the lens of the torah scholar—a student of Talmud and its commentators—and depicts the repentance of such a scholar. While the term “halakhic man” may suggest a focus on normative Jewish law, the personality described throughout the book embodies the spirit, character, and intellectual rigor of the Talmudist immersed in debate, dialectics, and the spiritual struggle of Torah study—a “master of Talmudic dialectics”(Soloveitchik 1983, p. 5). The concept of halakhah for Soloveitchik is not merely about law and religious will, but about ongoing engagement with understanding and cognition (Kaplan 1973, p. 48).

The halakhic man is a dialectical figure who inhabits the realms of religion and spirit, science and human reason. He is a creative person who redeems himself by activating his talents and life experience. In this formulation, Soloveitchik presents a new understanding of both the challenges to repentance and their resolution. Following his existential-halakhic method, he also seeks to interpret the legal structures and rabbinic traditions concerning repentance as inherently dependent on the existential vision he puts forward.

We argue that the same conceptual foundation underlying repentance also undergirds the very notion of the halakhic man. The flexible, extended, reversible concept of time that enables the penitent’s autonomy and self-repair also defines the halakhic man’s mindset. It shapes his experience of learning, his intellectual work with texts and traditions, and ultimately informs his existential consciousness and place in the world.

Soloveitchik himself describes the halakhic man’s experience of time, in both Halakhic Man as well as And From There You Shall Seek:

The experience of halakhic man is not circumscribed by his own individual past but transcends this limited realm and enters the domain of eternity. […] “Moses received the Torah from Sinai, and transmitted it to Joshua”, etc. [Avot 1:1]. This is the motto of the Halakhah. The masorah, the process of transmission, symbolizes the Jewish people’s outlook regarding the beautiful and resplendent phenomenon of time. […] Time, in this conception, is not destructive, all-consuming, and it does not simply consist of fleeting, imperceptible moments […] The consciousness of halakhic man, that master of the received tradition, embraces the entire company of the sages of the masorah. He lives in their midst, discusses and argues questions of Halakhah with them, delves into and analyzes fundamental halakhic principles in their company […] He walks alongside Maimonides, listens to R. Akiva, senses the presence of Abaye and Raba. He rejoices with them and shares in their sorrow […] Both past and future become, in such circumstances, ever-present realities (Soloveitchik 1983, pp. 117, 120).

It is a powerful experience of becoming friends with many generations of Torah scholars, the joining of one spirit with another, the union of souls. Those who transmitted the Torah and those who received it come together in one historical way-station (Goldblum 2008).

How does all of this take place? How is this awareness formed in the Talmud scholar—the halakhic man—that is Rabbi Soloveitchik? It arises in the very practice of Talmud study. Even before employing the Brisker analytical methods or interpretive techniques for which Rav Soloveitchik was famous (see for example, Saiman 2005), the learner encounters the unique literary style of the Talmud and the oral tradition (torah shebaal peh). This style presents a collage of characters and opinions from different eras, locations, schools of thought, temperaments, and socio-historical contexts. Together, they generate dialogues and polyphonic debates rich in tension and passion. The learner stands at their center—activating them and being activated by them. The most basic visual representation of this for Soloveitchik is the traditional layout of the Talmud page, where in the center lies a column of text combining biblical, rabbinic, and Talmudic voices—some from the Land of Israel, others from Babylonia, spoken over centuries. On one side of this central column (usually) sits Rashi, an 11th-century French commentator, and on the other, later commentators—some Rashi’s descendants, others his students or followers. These voices, seemingly dead and past, are brought to life by the deep, responsive learner. The learner actualizes the arguments, contradictions, justifications, proofs, refutations, and logical attacks with great intensity. He sides with all and with none, reveling in their correctness of all sides. This is a positive counterpoint to Walter Benjamin’s Angelus Novus, echoing William Faulkner’s famous line, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past” (Benjamin 1969; Faulkner 1951).

The very structure of Talmudic debate constructs inverted chronologies, value reversals, and shifting logics. Sometimes a discussion between Tannaim (early sages) appears to center on a statement by an Amora (a later sage) who lived long after them. One criterion for joining the Sanhedrin (the supreme rabbinic court) was the ability to “render pure the impure with 150 arguments”—i.e., to argue rationally against even seemingly obvious rulings. These features reflect the intellectual flexibility and temporal fluidity that the Talmudist must possess: an understanding and experience of time as reversible.

More than that, this temporal awareness generates a mental stance that makes possible a different relationship to otherness, estrangement, and alienation which reign in the world. For Rabbi Soloveitchik, halakhah becomes the learner’s way of overcoming all threats—including sin and even death: “Halakhic man fears nothing. For he swims in the sea of the Talmud, that life-giving sea to all the living. If a person has sinned, then the Halakhah of repentance will come to his aid” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 74). Engaging with halakhic discussion is, in Soloveitchik’s view, a means of objectifying religious subjectivity. Through this, one confronts reality fearlessly: “The terrifying abyss disappears, the strangeness fades from sight and leaves no trace behind. A warm and cordial relationship wells up. The enemy becomes a friend, the foe a familiar acquaintance” (ibid.). Sin and even death do not threaten the halakhic man.

8. Soloveitchik’s Repentance from a Personal Biographical Perspective

Earlier, we argued that Rabbi Soloveitchik’s conception of repentance, grounded in a flexible experience of time, originates from a deeply personal and internal source—his self-perception—which precedes his philosophical formulations. In other words, the powerful and formative emergence of multitemporal consciousness, in which past, present, and future intermingle, appears in the halakhic man/Rabbi Soloveitchik through his being a Torah scholar and an heir to the tradition of dialectical Torah scholarship. Philosophical and phenomenological frameworks serve him as somewhat forced “garments”, sometimes even only partial ones, as we have seen (Shatz 2008; Shatz et al. 2019). A clear example of this is found in the structure of Halakhic Man: first, the vivid descriptions of multitemporality in Talmud study, and only afterward a presentation of “the dualism bound up with the concept of time […] since Bergson” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 120), which leads into an independent discussion of temporal consciousness. In other words, his life experience as a learner generates a perception of time and a mental orientation open to a different ordering of things—and only afterward does he find these reflected and conceptualized in contemporary philosophy. Although the written structure of Halakhic Man may not mirror the actual chronological development of Soloveitchik’s thought, it seems likely that his engagement with thinkers such as Bergson occurred within a process akin to what literary theorist Menachem Perry calls “retrospective patterning”. In the end, Soloveitchik presents his argument in such a way that the conceptual framework of Talmudic thinking is not merely influenced by Bergson, but actually functions as the generative source for a multidimensional and non-linear understanding of time. Bergson’s philosophy, then, is effectively absorbed into and recontextualized within the halakhic and rabbinic worldview.

Rabbi Soloveitchik sees in this temporal consciousness a profound point of renewal in human life—an adventure for the brave-hearted alone. When he cites the mishnah from Pirkei Avot and refers to it as the “the motto of the Halakhah” (ibid.), it is hard not to read this as a parallel to—and forceful rejection of—the Enlightenment motto announced by Kant in his famous essay “What Is Enlightenment?”: Sapere Aude—“Dare to know!” (Kant 1991). Within the immense transformations of the Western world, the Enlightenment motto meant to cast off the shackles of the past and submit to the authority of new knowledge and a new age. By contrast, Rabbi Soloveitchik’s halakhic slogan is: Dare to receive tradition! Dare to enter the chain of the nation; to internalize that endless reality of dialectics that shapes your life and enables you to encounter your own self through the objectifying processes of halakhah. Dare to acquire a “personal relationship […] a consciousness of continuity and interdependency between the glorious periods of antiquity and the emerging present” (Soloveitchik 1993, p. 71). This entry into tradition is an entry into the project of traditional interpretation.7 For Soloveitchik, this is the true daring, the stance of the true creative human being. Thus, while it is possible to repent out of fear of punishment or lowliness—like the homo religiosus—Soloveitchik’s fervent proposal is: Dare to repent! Repentance, as an expression of tradition, is a rebellion against the death of the past and against deterministic time that buries one’s personal history. There is something deeply symbolic in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s use of Kant’s very slogan and rhetorical style—the master’s coinage—as a way of “bringing the queen into his own house”.8

This bold opposition becomes even clearer in light of the intellectual context of 1940s America, where Freudian psychoanalysis was gaining momentum. In Halakhic Man, Soloveitchik explicitly rejects the psychoanalytic approach, which he calls “self-lacerating torments” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 74) arguing: “One must not waste time on such self-appraisal, on probing introspections, and on the picking away at the ‘sense’ of sin. Such a psychic analysis brings man neither to fear nor to love of God nor, most fundamental of all, to the knowledge and cognition of the Torah” (ibid., pp. 74–75; See also Kolbrenner 2016).

Moreover, Soloveitchik’s defense of tradition directly confronts a foundational assumption in early 20th-century post-religious thought, most forcefully formulated by Freud in The Future of an Illusion: the notion that we are descendants of “wretched, ignorant and downtrodden ancestors” (Freud 1927, p. 33). This assumption—that previous generations were ignorant and degraded, and that everything they believed should be discarded—Rabbi Soloveitchik categorically rejected. Religion in general, and Jewish religiosity in particular, did not participate in modernity’s rebellion, disdain, and dismissal of the past. Soloveitchik was no exception, and in this context, he goes even further. While deeply engaged with the intellectual and scientific achievements of modernity, and making unapologetic use of them, he also seeks to challenge and defy the denial of the Jewish tradition’s vitality and spiritual power. He experiences tradition as a vital, living force—both sustaining and reflected in the present—and inextricably intertwined with a vision of the future that both contains and emerges from everything. This is particularly evident throughout Halakhic Man, where he quotes and references his fathers and teachers—both ancient and recent—with deep nostalgia and reverence. Against Freud’s reductive, dismissive approach to the tradition, Rabbi Soloveitchik embraces a present and future vibrantly animated by the past—by past figures and their world of emotions and experiences, still fully alive in his own.

9. Life as Text, Repentance as Midrash

To summarize the above, Rabbi Soloveitchik does not understand repentance as a psychological separation in the subject’s consciousness between the sin and the rectified self. Rather, he sees it as a process that acts upon the sin itself—by generating a new meaning for the entire event, turning, in the words of the sages, the sin into a merit: “The sin gives birth to mitzvot, the transgression to good deeds” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 116). This process of repentance is both intellectual and existential. Reflection occurs through an act of interpretive creativity. The penitent revisits their past by reading and studying their life—they interpret and expound upon it. This encounter between the person and their own self generates a new horizon and renewed self-understanding. The act of repentance involves synthesizing the different facets of one’s life, resulting in a kind of halakhah—a normative articulation—that constitutes the individual’s new identity.

This conceptual process can be understood through a Hegelian lens9: in the process of repentance, all of the details are clarified and gain their truth through the totality. Rabbi Soloveitchik explicitly distinguishes Jewish thought from Hegelian dialectic, stating: “Judaic dialectic, unlike the Hegelian, is irreconcilable and hence interminable […] To Hegel, man and his history were just abstract ideas; in the world of abstractions, synthesis is conceivable. To Judaism, man has always been and still is a living reality… In the world of realities, the harmony of opposites is an impossibility” (Soloveitchik 1978, p. 25). While this irreconcilable dialectic appears in many of his writings, in our context, “the highest expression of this integrative process is found in repentance itself” (Luz 1982, p. 79).

Repentance—as integration or synthesis—for the halakhic man is a confrontation between the former sinner, whose mind is now oriented toward the future, and their past sin. This encounter produces a transformative melding (Aufheben) of both elements. Soloveitchik describes the process this way: “The future imprints its stamp on the past and determines its image. We have here a true symbiotic, synergistic relationship […] The past by itself is indeterminate, a closed book. It is only the present and the future that can pry it open and read its meaning” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 115).

Kaplan, the translator of Halakhic Man, translates the Hebrew verb “doreshim”—meaning “they expound” or “they interpret”—as “pry”, an interesting choice that emphasizes the probing, intimate, perhaps even intrusive nature of the penitent’s engagement with their past. However, this translation may underplay (perhaps intentionally) the full force of what derishah means in Soloveitchik’s context. The act of derishah—interpretation or expounding—signifies that the present and future actively demand from the past, extracting from it far more than it contains on the surface. This is akin to the literature of Midrash, in which interpreters “discern value in texts, words, and letters, as potential revelatory spaces” (Gafney 2017). The past is thus revealed by the future as valuable, a mine of latent meaning.

This interpretation of the word “doreshim” aligns better with the earlier statement that the past is but raw material in the hands of the creator, from which the future shapes form and essence. Moreover, the English translation loses another critical verb employed by Soloveitchik—mefarshim, “they interpret”. The present and future are not only reading the past—they are actively interpreting it.

This interpretation more accurately reflects the preceding sentence, which presents the past as nothing more than raw material which the future will mold into shape and form. The English translation overlooks a key verb used by Rabbi Soloveitchik: mefarshim—literally, “they interpret”. The present and the future are not merely passive readers of the past, as Kaplan’s rendering (“read its meaning”) suggests, but agents who actively engage in the work of interpretation.

In his discussion of Soloveitchik’s approach to Maimonides’ ta’amei ha-mitzvot (reasons for the commandments), Rynhold identifies a fundamental difference between two models of textual understanding: intentionality and hermeneutics (Rynhold 2005). The first assumes that interpretation consists of uncovering the author’s intended meaning, “deposited” by the author in the text. This seems to be Kaplan’s reading of Soloveitchik. The second model, to which Rynhold argues Soloveitchik adheres, posits an interactive encounter between reader and text—a dynamic process of mutual influence, through which meaning is created, rather than discovered.

In this sense, the creative act of interpretation—as an act of repentance—renders the sin itself comprehensible and even redemptive within the totality of the penitent’s life. As Soloveitchik writes: “Historical crimes, past aberrations, can, at times, descend upon dry bones like the life-giving dew of resurrection, to which world history so amply testifies” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 117). In this way, Soloveitchik’s concept of repentance includes the sinful acts themselves. It is not confined to subjective interiority. This reflects his hyper-halakhic orientation, always seeking to actualize repentance in the concrete world.

10. Sin and Repentance

These ideas resonate with Hermann Cohen’s conception of sin, in which sin plays a certain role for the penitent, even without a direct confrontation with the sin itself or its correction. According to Cohen, sin serves two key functions: First, individualization: sin extricates the person from the realm of anonymity and propels them into the realm of individuality. “Through sin man is to become an individual, and indeed an ‘I’ conscious of itself […] for without finding one’s way through all of human frailty, man cannot find his way to God” (Cohen 1972).

The sin, for Cohen, must therefore remain as it is in order to fulfill its crucial role going forward. This is its second critical function, moral ferment: “Sin is a ferment of morality, and the stage of the individual’s sin is thus a permanent part [emphasis added] of the conceptual chain of moral man” (Cohen 1915, p. 65; Poma 2012). Within a dialectical process, then, sin remains as the antithesis. Its relevance depends on its enduring as a blemish or evil—without which it would have no significance or function. Returning to Rabbi Soloveitchik: in this understanding, repentance situates the sin along the temporal axis—as a point of departure toward a better future. It becomes an object in memory, a warning sign, an instrument of contrast.

For the halakhic man, sins are not “hylic facts” but “hylic matter” (See Schwartz 2007, p. 299). As Soloveitchik himself writes: “He looks behind him and sees a hylic matter that awaits the reception of its form from the creative future” (Soloveitchik 1983, p. 122). Understanding sins as hylic matter means precisely that they have no independent existence of their own. As he writes in the final chapter of Halakhic Man, this is the “Potential reality—the prime hylic matter—which in truth, according to Aristotle, does not have any real existence of its own” (ibid., p. 133).

Thus, the act of interpretation is not a return to past events as they were already experienced, reinterpreting them anew. Rather, for Soloveitchik, they are like formless material—without independent existence or perception (ghost-like, perhaps?)—flickering and waiting to be given meaning. Here, we find the core of the halakhic man’s act of choice in repentance: choosing to live toward the horizon of the future. We might call this living as “a citizen of the World to Come”. As in his discussions of prayer and mourning, and other places, Soloveitchik here seeks the existential element that completes the mitzvah. Here, that existential core is the choice to repent. The penitent’s inner recognition that repentance is truly possible—that he is capable of returning—is what gives repentance its vital force.

The intellectual act expressing this recognition is that of interpretation (derishah) and explanation (parshanut). The penitent views past events as hylic matter, awaiting interpretive form. This act of interpretation does not necessarily uproot previous meanings but overlays them with concrete, present meaning—freely shaped by the penitent-interpreter’s will and choice. In this stance, the past reappears within the present, outside the narrow frame of its original actuality. These temporal layers intermix and are newly defined through a process of reciprocal influence.

11. Conclusions

In this article, we have sought to show that Rabbi Soloveitchik’s conception of repentance is not merely a consequence of his model of the halakhic man, but rather is its existential and practical fulfillment. Repentance, in Soloveitchik’s thought, is not just a religious practice for dealing with sins—it is what defines and constructs the halakhic man, the ideal religious figure who creates and governs the paradoxes of time. The repentance process, as Soloveitchik sees it, is the culmination of the halakhic man as creator and self-redeemer: a conceptual commandment that portrays the penitent as someone who transcends reality. His approach is influenced by Scheler’s phenomenology, which highlights remorse as a liberating and constructive force, and by Bergson’s philosophy of time as durée. In presenting his position, Soloveitchik engages with the critiques of philosophers like Spinoza, Nietzsche, and Kant, who rejected repentance on rationalist and autonomous grounds, and in response he emphasizes human responsibility and creativity.

Another central dimension in Soloveitchik’s concept of repentance lies in his understanding of it as interpretation and midrash of a person’s life—a hermeneutic act through which even deliberate sins (zdonot) can become merits (zekhuyot), thus integrating the past constructively into both present and future. By combining the Lithuanian tradition of rigorous dialectical scholarship with modern philosophy—including influence from thinkers such as Hermann Cohen—Soloveitchik presents an innovative view of repentance as an active and creative endeavor. It enables the individual to reshape their past through the power of the future. In this way, he offers a profound response to the challenges of modernity for the religious person and shows how repentance can constitute a central tool for self-redemption and for creating meaning in a complex and ever-changing world.