Last week, when London-based Revolut, among the most popular of Europe’s digital “neo-banks,” was duped into handing over sensitive customer data to a scammer impersonating a government agency, the company was immediately thrust into crisis.[1] Standard business operations were frozen as executives scrambled into emergency war rooms to contain extortion threats, audit security protocols, and coordinate with law enforcement. An immediate threat that brings regular functioning to a halt is a fitting picture of the mindset demanded during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva, the Ten Days of Repentance that begin with Rosh Hashanah and conclude with Yom Kippur.
In ordinary, “peacetime” circumstances, R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto[2] offers a practical heuristic for deciding how to spend our time on this earth, dividing all human activity into four domains.[3] At the core are Mitzvos, Divine commands that connect us to the Borei Olam, the Creator, contrasted with Issur, forbidden actions that distance us from Him and harm ourselves and others.[4] Most of life, however, takes place in the intermediate space of human choice. Hechsher Mitzvah covers permitted activities that are not commandments themselves but prepare us for them. A person who spends hours measuring wood to build a sukkah, though the mitzvah is only to sit in it; a mashgiach who spends days analyzing the heating cycles of a food plant to ensure its kosher compliance; someone who takes a brisk walk to clear his mind before sitting down to learn—each of these physical steps becomes an act of kedushah, holiness, when driven by the right intention. Finally, Reshus covers optional pleasures like chess or music. They are spiritually neutral but sit on a knife-edge. Managed wisely, they are a healthy outlet; left unchecked, they can become wasteful distractions, or cross into Issur if prohibited elements creep in. Few of us weigh our daily choices in such rigorous terms, but the framework’s clarity is worth considering.
Yet while this framework serves as a spiritual compass for the year’s routines, the calculus changes the moment the shofar sounds. In Shaarei Teshuva, Rabbeinu Yonah (d. 1264) effectively redefines Reshus during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva.[5] When a person stands trial before the King of Kings, “neutral time” disappears.
Normally, the mundane elements of life occupy a safe baseline. Going to lunch with a friend, shopping for a new pair of shoes, or watching a documentary are permissible Reshus. With the right intention, they easily rise to Hechsher Mitzvah—getting a haircut l’kavod Shabbos, or inviting a lonely neighbor along to that lunch.
But Rabbeinu Yonah changes the rules for these ten days. He asks us to imagine a man whose case is about to be brought before a king of flesh and blood. Does he not tremble, seek counsel, and scurry to find a way to escape? It would not occur to him to turn right or left, or to busy himself with the rest of his affairs; he will not plow his field or walk through his vineyards. How foolish, then, are those who go out to their labors until evening during the Yomim Noraim, days of judgment and verdict, without knowing what their verdict will be. Instead, Rabbeinu Yonah writes, one who fears Hashem should reduce his affairs so that his mind is at ease, set aside times by day and night to seclude himself and examine his ways, and rise early and pour out his heart in tefillah.
If Rabbeinu Yonah urges us to cut back even on earning a living to clear the mind for introspection, surely there is no room in his conception of these days for leisurely reading the newspaper.[6] On an ordinary day, checking the news is neutral. During a capital trial, flipping through a newspaper at the defense table is more than a waste of time; it tells the Judge that we don’t grasp what is happening.
If Ramchal’s everyday framework feels foreign, Rabbeinu Yonah’s standard for the Aseres Yemei Teshuva seems entirely out of reach. We live with urgent deadlines, constant WhatsApp notifications, and buzzing phones, and the idea of locking ourselves in a room to pray and weep for ten straight days feels detached from our reality.
But read carefully: Rabbeinu Yonah is not demanding instant perfection. He asks us to reduce our affairs and to set aside time for introspection, not to abandon our lives. His message is a lesson in situational awareness.
Imagine you or someone you love is facing a high-stakes audit, a career-defining trial, or a critical medical evaluation. Would you sit in the waiting room playing Candy Crush or scrolling through sports highlights? Not because scrolling is forbidden, but because the gravity of the room demands your presence. You put the phone away because you respect what is at stake.
That is all the Borei Olam is asking of us during these ten days. We don’t have to abandon our jobs or pretend to be ascetics. But we can build a fence around our focus. By choosing to minimize the noise of Reshus, even a little, we show the Almighty that we know what time it is: we recognize the stakes, value our relationship with Him, and show up in our own lives when it matters most.
Revolut didn’t freeze its business because answering email is wrong. It froze because it knew it was in an emergency. For ten days, so are we.
[1]Osipovich, Alexander. “Europe’s Most Valuable Startup Gave Data to a Scammer. Now It Faces a Shakedown.” The Wall Street Journal, 15 Sept. 2026, p. A1.
[2]Also known as Ramchal; born 1707 in Padua, Italy; died May 16, 1746, in Acre, Eretz Yisroel.
[3]See Mesilas Yesharim and Derech Etz Chaim.
[4]In Derech Etz Chaim, Ramchal further divides these categories, particularly Mitzvah, into different types of Torah study and other studies.
[5]Shaarei Teshuva 2:14.
[6] Kindly disregard the source, in footnote 1, of the information regarding the bank data breach mentioned above.