I love Yom Kippur. And I hate Yom Kippur.

Let me explain.

For those who know me, you know I have a strong personality. I’m demanding, sometimes brash, impatient, and strong.

I’m also loving, caring, passionate, and committed. It’s the first adjectives that sometimes put me in an uncomfortable place.

Sometimes, unintentionally, I offend people. And when I do, I practice “Mess up, Fess up, Dress up.” When I mess up – when I offend, I fess up – I admit my transgression – and I dress up – I say how sorry I am and that it won’t happen again.

Sometimes, some people do or say things that offend me. I usually let it roll off. But sometimes I can feel the door shut inside me and realize I’m done with them. On reflection I realize that there have been other offenses and this was the last straw. I stop talking to them.

But I don’t forget the messes. And they fester.

And then the High Holydays come, and my love/hate relationship with Yom Kippur kicks in.

I can’t go into a new year with an old mess.

As hard as it is, I call to get together with those with whom I have those festering feelings. To call someone you’re out of sorts with, who you’ve cut off, ignored in public and all of a sudden want to meet with? They’re wary and want to know what’s going on.

When we meet, I say “I think. . .” or “I feel. . .” instead of “You did…” and I talk about the rift openly and explain my feelings and reaction. Confronting people, asking why, and sometimes admitting you’ve been a jerk, is really tough.

But not doing it is harder. To continue to see people you’ve cut off or who have cut you off in public is uncomfortable, and does not serve me, or anyone else for that matter.

Most of the time this mea culpa, or bringing a rift into the light, “works” and we can put the discomfort behind us, and go into the new year with a clean slate.

And sometimes I realize that I’m really done with this person, but I’ve cleaned up a mess.

I have to tell you that sometimes this doesn’t work. Sometimes the other person is through with you, or what you did was so bad in his or her eyes that no explanation or apology you offer is acceptable.

That’s when I’m grateful for the Jewish tradition of three apologies. I apologize once, and if I’m not forgiven, I apologize again. And if I’m still not forgiven, I apologize a third time – and, by the way, each apology has to come with the real desire to heal. Then, according to Jewish tradition, I’ve done all I can. I can put it behind me.

There’s a holy part to all this for me. Repairing a relationship is like repairing the world, tikkun olam. It’s my way of getting ready to end one year and start the next. The looking inward, admitting and acknowledging, and acting. It’s about doing what it takes to return to my highest and best self.

Do I have to wait till Yom Kippur to do this? Of course not, and most messes I clean up as soon as they happen. But for those messes I sweep under the rug, pretend I’m Scarlett O’Hara and think I’ll worry about them tomorrow, this gut wrenching practice of cleaning them up before Yom Kippur is liberating.

So now you know why I hate Yom Kippur. It’s uncomfortable to confront myself, be in a vulnerable place, rip the Band-Aid off and see that I have fallen short.

And you now know why I love Yom Kippur. I can go into the new year standing up straighter. I can walk into a new year a little lighter.

Good Yontiff.

Local commentary

Karen Kalish is the founder of Cultural Leadership, an educational leadership program for high school students and a member of Central Reform Congregation.