Shana tova! Happy New Year….in September/October! That’s right, we’re in the thick of it with the High Holy Days. The shofar sounded to usher in the Jewish New Year, pebbles and bread and oats were thrown into flowing streams to cast away our mistakes, apples and honey, apple cakes, festive dinners, and so much more ushered in this celebratory highlight in Judaism.
Now brace yourself. It’s time to put away the festivities and repent once more. Yom Kippur is nearly here.
There’s something really intriguing about the drama of the High Holy Days. From great celebration at Rosh Hashanah to the depths of the human soul on Yom Kippur. It’s jarring. It’s intense. It’s a lot. I made apple cake for a collegial gathering this year and felt lighter moving through the world after reflecting on what is truly possible for me. I appreciate that about Rosh Hashanah. It’s unlike the culture around our January 1st resolutions. This is about what’s possible for the soul. The inner work. Sure, join a gym, but why? Go to the why…dig deep down into it…because once you know that, the gym doesn’t matter as long as you know (and believe) the true reason for such a thing.
So, for me, this Rosh Hashanah, it’s time to get serious about all of the silly self-care things that clergy preach about and get lectured to by our colleagues. I’m not talking about taking more naps, reading more books, or really taking my days off. I’m talking about the reason behind it: I want to live more fully. Easy (EASY?!) enough. And if that list of things and then some are a part of it, then that’s swell. But what’s most important is believing that deeper reason and doing what I can to embody it. I’ve identified a spiritual disconnect in my life. That’s what this is time of year is about in Judaism.
And now, feeling lighter, liberated, joyful — I’m going to face my demons once more and starve myself for 25 hours. Yom Kippur is here.
The fast begins tonight at sundown. I’m not really worried about it. I’ve done it before and it’s relatively easy. To be fair, I can’t do a full fast where I abstain from all food and drink, including water, for the entire 25 hours. A medication I take requires me to have water. One of the Rabbis in town will be quick to say: “Yeah, barely anyone in this room is fasting.” It’s not a competition, but…well…do I win a prize? No, not really. But the gift in choosing a day, ritual, practice, fast, etc is if it is something that will allow you to reflect deeply. For me, fasting does.
I remember last year in the middle of Yom Kippur, I was committed to go to our annual dog blessing at the Unitarian Universalist congregation. It was warm out. VERY warm out. And we had dozens of dogs. Here I was, fasting…and blessing all of these wonderful dogs. But I had to excuse myself halfway through to get some water in me before I passed out on little Rover. Even then, it was delightful and part of the practice. Here I was, depriving myself of something only to be surrounded by the boundless exuberance of dogs. Life calls to life.
So, tonight, we’ll gather in the temple. It’s the most “popular” service of the Jewish Year: Kol Nidre. Meaning “All Vows.” The service begins with the convening of a rabbinical court. Two Torah scrolls will flank each side of the cantor as they begin to sing the words of a haunting song: Kol Nidre. It’s an Aramaic song and is, interestingly enough, a legal formula for the absolution of vows.
Weird, right? It’d be like if a Unitarian Universalist Water Ceremony service began with the reading of the Cambridge Platform.
And yet, it’s the absolute highlight of the Jewish year for me. I’m not just a Yom Kippur Jew, I’m a Kol Nidre Jew. It all comes down to that night, that weird Aramaic legal chant, and the realization that every single person is confessing and bearing witness to one another. We become a single spiritual unit. Each person’s growth and redemption is dependent on the whole. It’s an incredibly Universalist service and yet it lifts up and centers something that’s been lost in American Protestantism (mostly), including Unitarian Universalism: The idea that we’re all in this together.
Here’s Rabbi (then Cantor) Angela Buchdahl singing this wonderful bizarre song. You don’t need to know what it means to feel it. Just feel it.
And here’s the English text:
All vows, and prohibitions,
and oaths, and consecrations, and bans, and terms,
and obligations that we vow,
and swear, and devote, and prohibit upon ourselves—
from this Yom Kippur until the next Yom Kippur,
may it come upon us for good—
regarding all of them, we regret them.
Let all of them be annulled,
canceled, voided, and nullified.
Let them not be valid or binding.
Our vows are not vows;
our prohibitions are not prohibitions;
our oaths are not oaths.
I wonder what my love of this…not-a-prayer…says about me. It’s controversial for sure. You can find commentaries that rip it to shreds and demand it be removed from the liturgy. Yet, with all of that, it endures. What is it about the human condition that at the very beginning of the Day of Atonement something like this is sung, chanted, and said three times? Does it mean we’re not reliable? That assumption has been used to fuel anti-semitism. Also, that’s not the point of this. Does it mean we’re free from our missteps? I think it goes deeper.
A friend in the Zen community says often that he believes everyone is doing the best they can. He’s a Republican and one of the few Republicans I regularly interact with. I would be lying if I didn’t say I hated him, just a bit, for saying this after the election. I still struggle with this idea, but I feel like this night, Erev Yom Kippur, where this legal pronouncement will be repeated three times, gets at this a little.
We are a species that tries. We really do. We are fragile, broken, and meandering through life. We’ve tried to write “manuals” on how to live, but in my experience, most people are too busy and too worried to remember Confucius, Jesus, the Torah, Mohammed, the Buddha, etc etc when they’re trying to pay the bills, manage a diagnosis, and live. We’re wandering in the dark…hands out in front of us looking for something to guide our way or something to hold onto.
And then, Erev Yom Kippur, the first notes of Kol Nidre sound. The ancient words remind us we’re not alone. That we all fail. That we’re trying. We’re broken. And we need to release ourselves from the spiral of doubt, guilt, and shame if we want any chance of making it in this life.
Some say on Yom Kippur we’re standing completely exposed before God. That’s a powerful image. For me, though, it’s more powerful to realize I’m standing before myself. I’ve stripped away the titles, affectations, pretense, and everything else that I think makes me who I am. What’s left? A human in need of some grace. Someone, like everyone else on this planet, that needs to let go sometimes. To start again. To know I will make more vows and oaths and I will find myself here again.
All I can hope for is that I carry the wisdom of this night with me so I can let go once more.
Yom Tov. Until next time.