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Perhaps it’s clear why amends happens first—what are you apologizing for, exactly, if the other person still hasn’t been cared for, attended to? Action first. Words later.

An apology, here, does not consist of the words “I’m sorry,” though that statement might be part of it. (It is certainly not “I’m sorry that you were hurt by this perfectly reasonable thing that I did.”) And, as with making amends, a real apology is not aimed at the person who has been hurt, but rather is given in relationship with them. It requires vulnerability and empathetic listening; it demands a sincere offering of regret and sorrow for one’s actions. It requires understanding when approaching a victim might harm them further and navigating that with sensitivity.

The goal is not to do more harm, but to do work that is healing, repairing. This means that the victim’s needs must be centered in the process, always. In subsequent chapters we’ll explore some of the more complex questions around apologies and forgiveness—what to do if approaching the victim may in fact inflict trauma, what it means if the victim is dead and cannot forgive, what it means for the penitent if the victim is not willing or able to be appeased, and the nature and limits of forgiveness.

It is important to note again that, here, repentance and forgiveness are not as tightly intertwined as they are considered to be in contemporary culture. That is to say, from a Maimonidean perspective, repentance is about righting as much of the harm as can be done, and this involves knowing what parts of the process are out of one’s hands.

The work of pacifying, appeasing, and begging forgiveness can feel fraught for some people. It may seem uncomfortable and scary, or embarrassing. It may feel guilt-inducing to own one’s mistakes, selfishness, lack of impulse control, or cluelessness. And yet, the penitent person has already been on a profound journey by the time they arrive at this point. They have had to understand the harm caused, to acknowledge and seek to be accountable for it, to begin working toward deep transformation related to the issue in question, and to invest concretely in reparations. In this way, approaching the victim to try to appease and soothe the wounds one has inflicted may be a natural, organic next step. It may feel like the next obvious thing left to do. By now, the perpetrator’s remorse might be so strong that the apology flows from an open heart seeking change. That is the hope.”]

When my lover began to say no to sex on a regular basis, I quickly realized that it wasn't okay with me for her to simply say no, turn over, and go to sleep. I wanted something, even if I couldn't have sex. And the closer to sex the better. If she couldn't do that, I wanted her to take a bath with me. If that was too threatening, maybe she could give me a massage. And if that was too much, then maybe we could go for a walk and hold hands. And so on.

Also I didn't want to have to ask for it. Asking and having her say no was difficult enough. I wanted the next move to be hers.

"I want you to offer me something," I told her, "anything you feel you can give. You can say, 'No, I don't want to make love but I'd like to kiss a little,' or 'No, but I love you very much,' or 'No, but I'll rub your back.'"

This was hard for her. When she said no she felt guilty. It was difficult to offer something else, and to her, the offerings felt pitifully small compared to actually having sex, which is what she knew I really wanted. Often when she said no, she was in her own turmoil— which was why she said no in the first place— and she resented having to deal with my feelings at all. Now I was asking her to give even when she didn't really want to, to stay aware that there were two of us in this relationship.

新年明けましておめでとうございます。