This guy comes up to the chazzan, the cantor, in synagogue and says, “How come every time I come to shul, you sing the same song? Like, every single time?”
“Which song is that?” asks the cantor.
“Kol Nidrei …
So what is Yom Kippur? What does a Day of Atonement mean? Does it mean that we can come to synagogue and fast one day a year so we can fress and graze the other 364? And then come back next year to wipe the slate clean all over again?
I can’t imagine too many intelligent people would buy that.
Yet there is something special about Yom Kippur, isn’t there? We all know that it’s special, don’t we?
Some people say Yom Kippur is special because they meet up with old friends they haven’t seen since last year.
Jokes aside, I must say that for me, personally, Yom Kippur is a very inspiring time. It is a day when all kinds of Jews materialize—a day when, somehow, our inner identity shines through, even if we aren’t quite convinced about it ourselves.
I know many people feel guilty about coming to shul on this day when they don’t necessarily make too many appearances year-round. But there is a good reason that we attend on Yom Kippur.
The Torah reading for Yom Kippur day describes it as “an everlasting statute … to make atonement for the sins of Israel, once a year (Achat Bashanah).”
But the mystics, who always go beyond the simple interpretation to uncover hidden layers of depth and meaning in the Torah, explain that Achat Bashanah doesn’t only mean “once a year.” It also means “The One of the Year!”
Just as the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies in the Temple only this one day a year, so, too, does every one of us come face to face with our own Holy of Holies on this one day. It’s a day when every Jew confronts his or her oneness. On this day of oneness, we penetrate through all the externals, all the barriers, all the iron curtains as we come face to face with our own genuine, inner identity.
On this day, we all find ourselves. The real me, the real you, the real Jew is revealed on Yom Kippur.
And that’s why those who are not usually in synagogue all year do come on this most sacred day, because something touches the deepest core of a Jew. He may not be able to identify it. She may not be able to articulate it. But there is something felt deep down in our gut, in our kishkes!
Even beyond our kishkes. Because you know what lies beyond a Jew’s kishkes? The neshamah—the “soul.” So even if I can’t quite explain the phenomenon, I know something is happening, in my shul, in my community, in my people and in my heart. And so I come. I am here. Don’t ask me why. Don’t demand an explanation. But I’m here.
So this one day of the year reveals the oneness, the uniqueness of a Jew with God. It is the moment of truth that reaches deep into the crevices inside our very core and touches our nucleus, our irreducible minimum. Somehow, the neshama is awakened on Yom Kippur, and we encounter who we really and truly are.
So who are we really?
On this day of oneness, we penetrate all the externals, all the barriers, as we come face to face with our own genuine, inner identity.
Let me share a powerful teaching from Maimonides, the great sage known as the Rambam, who lived more than 800 years ago. Listen to what the Rambam writes in his Laws of Repentance (so appropriate for the Day of Repentance), Chapter 3, Paragraph 4:
“How God judges us is not by quantity, by the number of our merits or demerits; but by quality, by the magnitude of these deeds. Sometimes, a single mitzvah can outweigh many inequities. Equally, a single misdeed may sometimes counterbalance many merits. And this calculation is according to the Infinite knowledge of the All-Knowing God. He and He alone is the Supreme Judge.”
What is Maimonides saying? That you just never know. That someone who performs fewer mitzvahs in number may actually still be greater in value. For all we know, one single good deed may be as valuable as hundreds of good deeds combined! Who knows? Only God.
The bottom line is that we cannot judge the value of a mitzvah; therefore, we cannot judge people. No human being can judge another. Do we know the value and true worth of a single deed they may have done? No. Only God knows.
And that’s why I don’t want you to judge other people. But by the same token, I don’t want you to judge yourself too harshly either.
Who are you? You may be a doctor, lawyer, accountant or businessperson. You may be a teacher, secretary, student, butcher, baker or candlestick maker. But at the end of the day, you are a Jew. And even if you didn’t step into a shul since your bar or bat mitzvah, you’re still a Jew.
My father was born in Poland. In 1939, when Germany attacked, its troops bombed the cities. People ran for cover in underground shelters and bunkers. My father told the story of how it once happened that a bomb landed right outside a particular bunker.
At that moment, he said, every single Jew cried out Shema Yisrael! In that bunker were rabbis and laymen, Chassidim and Bundists—socialists who didn’t believe in God. My father confirmed that even atheists shouted Shema Yisrael with the same fervor as the religious Jews gathered there for protection.
As they say, there are “no atheists in the foxhole.”
And it all comes out on Yom Kippur. May we all discover our inner selves and, please G-d, reveal and develop our genuine, true identity in this New Year.
