Last night was the beginning of the Jewish high holy days, a 10-day period starting with a celebration of the New Year (Rosh Hashanah) and ending with a solemn day of atonement (Yom Kippur).

Rosh Hashanah is not simply about making New Year’s resolutions. Jews are expected to pause from their daily lives, sit in objective judgment of their conduct during the past year, and examine the state of their souls so they can hold themselves accountable for any gaps between their conscience and their conduct, between the standards they profess and the actions they perform.

As Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan put it, the goal is “to seek reconstruction of one’s personality in accordance with the highest ethical possibilities of human nature.”

The profound insight underlying this quest for self-improvement is that every human being is endowed with the ability to understand good and evil and the free will to choose good.

Self-reflection, then, is just the prelude to a fresh commitment to be a better person.

When we examine our conduct and character, hold ourselves accountable for any gaps between the standards we profess and the actions we perform, acknowledge our faults, and seek to improve and make amends, we are engaged in a spiritual quest for worthiness that enriches our lives and our society beyond measure.

Although the process is clothed in religious ritual, one can come to similar insights about the nature and desirability of being a good person from a purely secular perspective. So whether we call it morality or ethics, or think in terms of our souls or our character, it’s good to be good,

Choosing to live a life of virtue lights and sustains a flame within us that can’t be extinguished. So to all of you, Happy New Year.

L’shana tova.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Paul Newman’s life was commemorated in thousands of obituaries all over the world. It was often noted that he was an Oscar-winning Hollywood superstar who often played unsavory characters – pool hustlers, con men, and killers.

But in life he was so much better than that.

Other common descriptors included director, race-car driver, entrepreneur, activist, philanthropist, humanitarian, practical joker, father of five, and a happily married man for 50 years. That’s quite a legacy, especially in Hollywood.

I saw him interviewed many times and was always struck by how fundamentally down to earth and sensible he seemed. He was a man who knew how to capitalize on his fame and enjoy his wealth without pretention or vanity. He was proud to have been in the top 20 of Richard Nixon’s Enemies List, and he loved and took quite seriously driving race cars on the professional circuit.

Yet the most exceptional thing about Paul Newman was his philanthropy. He created Newman’s Own, a natural food company with his picture on every label and the slogan “Shameless exploitation in pursuit of the common good.”

Although he was shocked that the brand became hugely successful (he once remarked that it was a joke that got out of control), he never wavered from his commitment to donate every cent of profit to charity – about $250 million so far.

His Hole in the Wall Gang camps have become the world’s largest family of camps serving children with serious illnesses.

It was reported that a week before he died he sat with his daughter in the arbor of his garden and said, “It’s been a privilege to be here.”

It was our privilege as well.

I once wrote that what will matter in the end is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what. Paul Newman will long be remembered by millions of beneficiaries of his talent and generosity as a man who made the world better.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Suppose Amy’s bonus depends on achieving aggressive sales goals and she knows she can pump her numbers by instructing Bob, a subordinate, to ship goods to a large customer that weren’t ordered.

Whether she will choose to engage in this scheme and order Bob to participate, and whether Bob will do so, is not only a matter of personal character but of corporate culture.

Decisions of employees like Amy and Bob are strongly influenced by their perceptions of the company’s character and operational values. In most organizations, you get what you reward and encourage what you allow.

Amy is more likely to avoid deceptive conduct if she believes integrity and honesty are ground rules rather than rhetorical ornaments and if she’ll be more severely sanctioned for deceptive conduct than missing her numbers. Similarly, Bob is likely to say no to his boss if he’s convinced the company wants him to and will support him if he does.

In today’s precarious environment, leaders have a duty to assess their organization’s culture and do whatever is needed to strengthen or create a sustainable ethical environment that generates trust and promotes honesty, fairness, and unflinching accountability as well as legal compliance.

This can’t be accomplished by lofty rhetoric or even strict ethics codes. Words and rules must be translated into expectations and made believable by the modeling of senior executives and by adopting performance-review criteria, compensation systems, and promotion decisions that reward ethical judgments and punish ethical shortcuts.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Tim Wrightman, a former All-American UCLA football player, tells a story about how, as a rookie lineman in the National Football League, he was up against the legendary pass rusher Lawrence Taylor.

Taylor was not only physically powerful and uncommonly quick but was a master at verbal intimidation. Looking young Tim in the eye, he said, “Sonny, get ready. I’m going to the left and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Wrightman coolly responded, “Sir, is that your left or mine?” The question froze Taylor long enough to allow Wrightman to throw a perfect block.

It’s amazing what we can accomplish if we refuse to be afraid. Fear – whether it’s of pain, failure, or rejection – is a toxic emotion that creates monsters in our mind that can consume self-confidence and intimidate us from doing our best or even trying at all.

For example, as a law professor, I saw scores of capable students fail the bar exam, not because they didn’t know enough but because their anxiety hindered their ability to remember or coherently express what they did know.

For most law graduates, passing the bar exam should be no more difficult than walking across a board twenty feet long and two feet wide. The trouble is, they don’t walk normally because they’re intimidated by the illusion that the board is suspended 100 feet in the air and that getting across it is a life-or-death matter. What’s the worst that can happen? Embarrassment, inconvenience, and expense – but none of these is fatal.

Perspective is an antidote to fear. Remember, most things you fear will never happen, and even if they do, you can handle it.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Last night, I attended a fundraising dinner for the Erika Whitmore Godwin Foundation, the creation of Susan and Wendell Whitmore, a couple who transformed their personal mountain of sorrow into a living monument to their daughter Erika who died in the prime of her life.

Through a content-rich website Griefhaven.org, the foundation provides resources to guide parents recently maimed by the death of a child out of the black swamp of despair. Many at the dinner had lost a child, and regardless of the age or cause of death, these bereft parents all shared a common sentence – to live the rest of their lives with a hole in their heart.

One of the speakers, Dolly Saget, mother of comedian Bob, had lost four children. No one could blame them if they had retreated to a dark dungeon of despondency, but the remarkable people in that room refused to surrender to grief. Through hope, courage, and strength, they made a painful peace with their reality so they could move on, so they could laugh, so they could enjoy the company of others and savor good memories without being consumed by regret.

Their strategy is not to bury their pain so deep that they forget their loss. They want to remember. They want to celebrate and honor their children – not by weeping, but by easing the pain of others.

People like the Whitmores confirm that pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. They also teach us that deeply wounded hearts can be healed through life-affirming energy provided by a community of caring friends linked through common experiences and that a rewarding and meaningful life can be made from the rubble of personal calamity.

The evening ended with an inspired and inspiring performance by singer Davis Gaines. With his music still in my head, I left the dinner profoundly grateful for my life.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.