Yom Kippur asks one thing of us above all: an honest accounting. Cheshbon hanefesh — a reckoning of the soul.

Not a performance of piety, and not a performance of innocence either. Just the truth, faced plainly.

That is also what our Torah models. Read it: The narrative does not protect the reputation of its protagonists at the expense of truth.

The Torah records David’s abuse of power, Saul’s failures, the sins of kings, judges, priests, and the people themselves — without flinching, and without turning justice into spectacle.

It names the wrong, demands accountability, and honors the dignity of every person involved.

No loyalty outranks truth.

That is what Yom Kippur is about. It is harder than it sounds.

Rebbe Nachman taught: “kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar me’od” — the whole world is a very narrow bridge.

The narrow bridge is the path between two ditches, and our community keeps falling into one or the other.

One ditch is denial: reaching for defense before facts, worrying about how an allegation will look, attacking the accuser, pressuring people to keep things private, calling scrutiny a betrayal, waiting for the story to go away.

We do this especially when the accused is seen as representing “us” — and because we have been so badly libeled, the instinct to circle the wagons is strong. But an excuse, or a rationalization, is not the same as an answer.

The other ditch is the mob: treating an accusation as a verdict, a viral post as evidence, turning uncertainty into certainty and punishment into a substitute for proof.

There is a way forward which keeps us from falling into the ditch on either side. It is principled attention to evidence, fairness, coupled with a deep commitment to the safety of vulnerable people.

In practice this means accusers are heard, treated with dignity, and protected from retaliation.

It also means the accused are given investigation, evidence, and due process.

This is what we ask from God on Yom Kippur, the Day of Judgment. We want Him to be fair to us, and then to have mercy on top of the verdict, because few can truly stand up to scrutiny.

If we want God to shine His grace on us, we need to do better when we are in the position of evaluating the behavior of others.

False or unproven allegations can destroy lives. Maybe it’s cool to join in on social media, but no one should be condemned solely because everyone else is doing it.

Hiding from the pain of the abused is similarly evil. Very often abusers are skilled at gaining the confidence of the community, even as they torture and intimidate their victims. No wonder this crime is frequently hidden, underreported, and difficult to prove.

So no survivor should be dismissed, punished, or pushed out of the community merely for coming forward.

Above all, Yom Kippur means scrutiny. A community protects itself by treating allegations seriously without predetermining outcomes, and by making sure no one has to choose between safety and belonging.

At the end of the day, Yom Kippur is not supposed to be about self-flagellation.

It is not an exercise in self-defense, either.

It is the courage to say: This is what happened, this is what was wrong, and this is what we will do differently.

It is walking the narrow bridge without fear.

May we all commit to do better, and may we be sealed for the good.