Yom Kippur

Last week I wrote about both Rosh Ha’Shana and Parashat Ha’azeenu. As a matter of fact, the reading of that portion was postponed to this week. Please consult last week’s entry it if you want to learn something on Ha'azeenu. Next week we'll discuss the very last Portion in the cycle, the one about the Blessing.

Today I would like to say a few words about Yom Ha'Kipurim - the day of atonement -- which is upon us. First, I find it fascinating that even this great day cannot not amend misdeeds between "a person and his friend," although it is important enough, and comprehensive enough, to repent all sins between "a person and God." In a way -- a small way -- man's relationships with his friends seem all of a sudden more important than his relationship with God, even on Judaism's most holiest of days. There are, of course, many attempts to resolve this conundrum, on which I will not dwell here. [For those who are interested, I would recommend the first of Nine Talmudic Readings by Emanuel Levinas a French philosopher (1990); a fantastic presentation of both the problem and the several attempts made to resolve it.] I would say, however, that I love the fact that on the day we think most about God, we must also not forget for a moment our "earthly" friends -- which are, in the end, our most important connections to our spiritual selves.

And another word on this special day. The last T'fila (prayer) - Tfilat Ne'eela [literally, "to lock," which refers to the fact that the heavens are closing right before God makes his choices about who shall live and die] -- is one of the greatest literal achievements of serving God. Read after an entire day of fast and undergoing other physical and mental anguish, the prayer reminds us of the simple truth that "man and beast are no different, for all is vanity." Ecc. 3:19 (my translation; unfortunately, all ten "classic" translations -- see http://bible.cc -- are wrong here, claiming the verse suggests that man claims "no superiority" over the animal; the original, however, is much more poignant.) This is a "tough sell" for such a holly day: Here we are, standing all day before God in the synagogue (or elsewhere), praying and pouring our hearts out, and yet we have to read -- in the holiest of prayers -- that we are no different than any of the animals. How come? Professor Leibowitz suggests that the solution to this "tough sell" can be found only two lines thereafter, in the same prayer: "You have recognized a man from beast, and acknowledged him to stand before You." In other words, as long as we live our lives without "standing before God" -- or, for that matter, without standing before what we perceive to be the real meaning of life -- then truly our lives are not any different than those of any animal. We aim for better car, better job, beautiful jewelry, just like the ape aims for a better tree, higher spot on the food chain, more handsome partner. Things are different, however, if we "stand before God": There, and only there, we are recognized by Him to be different. This -- the standing before God -- is what separates us from the animals; not our empty and shallow life (read: watching reality shows and playing video games all day), but only what is beyond that.

And one final word on Kol Nidrei. Again, it is a little disheartening, to say the least, to read every year the same long and exhaustive list of crimes that we have committed -- whether we have actually committed them or not. But that's the entire point: Even if we think we never committed those crimes, we are human -- all too human, as Nietzsche has discovered -- and therefore are guilty of committing all those sins even without our knowledge. In essence, we are told: So that your pride will not take over - you have sinned, and must apologize for it. But today is the day of repentance. And that is the beauty of Yom Kippur.

Shabbat Shalom, Tzom Kal, and Gmar Tov.

Doron