WATCH: From Guilt to Love: Reclaiming Your Jewish Faith

Too many Jews today feel tethered to their faith by guilt, not love, and that’s a crying shame. Judaism isn't a pile of dry laws or a whip to beat yourself with. The Torah’s mostly about relationships, God and us, us and each other, not some guilt-driven checklist.

In fact, an act done out of love, even by someone low on the spiritual ladder, blows away an act done out of fear, even by a tzaddik. That tells you something. Judaism’s about the heart, not just the rulebook. But too many people get turned off because they’re drowning in guilt. Women wrestling with modesty, men stressing over Torah study: they feel like they’re flunking faith because they aren't “good enough.” That’s not how it’s supposed to work.

Picture this: someone eats a cookie, feels bad, and instead of dealing with it, grabs another to dodge the sting. Same thing with sin. You mess up, feel rotten, and sometimes you mess up again just to numb the guilt. That’s the trap. Judaism’s got guilt, like teshuva, asking forgiveness in Vidui, but it’s not meant to chain you down. Yom Kippur’s the proof, when we send off the se’ir la’Azazel, the scapegoat, with all our sins.

Rewind to the midrash about two angels, Azazel and Za’za. They griped to God: “Why’d you make humans? They sin all the time. We’re better.”

God answered them, “Let’s see you try.” He sent them to earth, where they were hit with the yetzer hara and they crashed hard. God punished them, chaining Azazel to a mountain between heaven and earth. That’s the Azazel we send the goat to on Yom Kippur. And get this: we’re giving a “gift” to the Satan, of all things.

We’re saying, “That sin? It’s not me. I did wrong, but I’m not a bad person.” The goat hauls the sin away to Azazel’s mountain, and we’re free to move on. Guilt’s not the point: it’s a wake-up call, like a candle lighting your way or a stove cooking your food. But if it’s a wildfire, burning out of control, that’s shame, and it’s poison. Too many Jews let guilt run the show, and their whole faith becomes a burden, not a joy.

Judaism’s got balance. We’ve got teshuva, where we own our mistakes, but we’ve also got the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy, where God calls us His kids, even when we screw up. Yom Kippur’s not just about feeling bad; it’s about letting go. God forgives if you keep Shabbat, get married, cry at a funeral. Even after death, repentance wipes the slate clean. So why cling to guilt when God’s ready to hug you?

King David, after his sin with Bathsheva, said, “My sin is always with me.” Not because he enjoyed feeling bad, but to remind himself not to slip again.

Yom Kippur’s message is clear: God wants humans, not angels. He made us with a yetzer hara for a reason, to grow through the mess. Guilt’s fine for a moment, maybe before bed or after prayers, to think, “How can I do better?” But if it’s making you feel like God’s your jailer, drop it. Judaism’s about love: God’s love for us, our love for Him. That’s the spark we need to keep burning.