Apologies are cheap these days. The nameless electronic voice on the train station public address system professes “regret” that the train is delayed. A pause as the computer scrambles around for the name of the relevant train company, before claiming that it “apologises for any inconvenience caused.”

Firms across Britain install telephone queuing systems because they know they don’t employ enough staff. But they are set to “apologise” for the delay. And politicians, when they apologise, choose their words so carefully that they almost shake any acceptance of blame.

As we Orthodox Jews prepare for the Day of Atonement, which starts tomorrow (Oct 8), there’s no option of programming our computers to do our apologising. We can’t instruct our press secretaries to issue a statement, though the idea bears some thinking about. “FAO God,” it could begin. “Mr Cohen regrets straying from your ways in the last year. He apologises for any inconvenience this may have caused, and has expressed hope that it will not affect your relationship in the future.”

The Jewish Holyday season, which began last week with New Year and now continues with the Day of Atonement, is all about righting our wrongs, both towards God and towards our fellow human beings.

In Hebrew, the rather charming phrase for this process is “heshbon nefesh.” A “heshbon” is the itemised bill you receive in a cafe and “nefesh” means soul. In short, you are remembering what your actions were, and working out what their cost may have been to other people or your relationship with God.

There are rabbinic guidelines on how to go about seeking forgiveness from people we have wronged, and to be on the giving or receiving end of a real apology is a humbling experience. The person offering the apology really recognises what he or she has done, and avoids the temptation to hide behind any of the phrases so common today, such as “if I harmed you then I apologise.”

For wrongs towards God – Jews tend to avoid the word “sin” – one must confess the nature of the wrong, usually during prayers, regret it and resolve never to repeat it. The Day of Atonement prayers, which run through most of the waking hours, focus on these themes. They also recall the Day of Atonement service in the days of the Jerusalem temple, one aspect of which is constantly referred to in modern speech – the “scapegoat,” sent to the wilderness symbolically burdened with the peoples’ sins.

Each of the five services is lengthy and intense. As the day draws to a close, the Book of Jonah is read, chosen by rabbis keen to drive home the message that you can’t run away from God (Jonah the Prophet, of course, tried to do exactly that).

The best-known obligation of the Day of Atonement is fasting, but this is just one of many. We are not allowed to use cosmetics and lotions, wash except for basic hygiene or have sexual relations, or wear leather shoes. This last prohibition, coupled with the tradition of wearing your finest outfit, explains the sight that many people find puzzling - Jews wearing smart suits or dresses with a pair of trainers.

Nathan Jeffay is an Orthodox Jew and writer on Jewish affairs