cellio | Entries tagged with high holy days

My synagogue streamed its services, with some parts recorded in advance (like all the student torah readers) and some parts live. They assumed that people would check email and click links on Rosh Hashana (we say we're "inclusive" but we don't really mean it), and after much pushing I was able to get the stream link for Saturday morning mere moments before sundown Friday so I could set it up in advance.

During the service our (interim) rabbi said "this is live" and as proof, held up the day's New York Times. Which is how I found out the sad news of Ruth Bader Ginsburg's passing. (And now I fear even more for our country.)

It did not feel like a service, which didn't surprise me. I mostly prayed on my own instead, sometimes badly (there's a lot of stuff we don't say the rest of the year so I'm not fluent), but I listened to the torah reading and the sermon. The stream froze near the end, during the announcements after the sermon and before Aleinu. All of which strengthened my resolve for today.

Even if the technology were to be reliable, I just plain do not consider this an option for Yom Kippur. My choices are to pray it at home, badly, and hope to somehow connect on the holiest day of the year against those odds, or to join people who are gathering in person. Last month I contacted the Chabad rabbi, explained my situation, and asked if there were any possibility that they would have socially-distant room for anybody beyond their regulars. (I said I was perfectly willing to do the Rabbi Hillel thing and stand outside an open window. Alas, the windows in their sanctuary do not open.) He said yes, so I made reservations for Yom Kippur and also for this morning -- Rosh Hashana is two days, so I figured (in advance) that if the first day bombed, I could at least go the second day, including hearing the shofar.

They set up the space carefully, with single chairs appropriately distanced and some clusters of chairs for family groups. (They required reservations from everyone, including indicating group size, so they could plan for this.) There was a sort of "tent" around the prayer leader -- clear heavy plastic walls but open at the top, well above people's heads. This is also where they read the torah. The people who had aliyot (torah honors) said the blessings from a safe distance. Singing was restrained. The shofar blower was well distanced, and I couldn't tell for sure but there might have been a cover of some sort on the end the air comes out. Everybody wore masks, including while inside that "tent". (I couldn't see what the shofar blower did.)

Only once before have I been to a Rosh Hashana service that wasn't Reform, and that one (Conservative) was early on when I didn't know very much yet. So I either forgot or never knew some things: that Unataneh Tokef is during the musaf service not the main one, that apparently there are liturgical differences between the two days (don't know what, but the book had "RH 1" and "RH 2" versions of the Amidah), and that the shofar service doesn't require the calls.

On that last: I'm used to somebody calling each note, so the caller says "tekiah" (for instance) and then the shofar-blower blows a "tekiah". This was different. The prayer book specified what the notes were, as expected, and the blower just blew them. The book also had instructions, one-third and two-thirds of the way through the first set, to silently confess here. It didn't provide words (like Vidui), so I interpreted that as free-form. And without the verbal distraction of somebody saying the names of the shofar calls, I could do that -- I could listen to the shofar, let it inspire me, say words to God against that backdrop, and feel like I was doing something. It was a powerful experience.

If, heaven forbid, we are still streaming services a year from now, I'll ditch my Reform congregation and go to an Orthodox service instead. It's possible that I'll do that anyway. Meanwhile, I can attend services for Yom Kippur in person, and based on what I felt today, it seems likely that I will have a meaningful experience. That's important to me in any year, but especially this year on the heels of events beyond my control ruining the high holy days for me last year.

Question for anybody who's read this far: how do you fill the gap on Yom Kippur afternoon? In the Before Times my synagogue had classes and usually a dramatic presentation of the Yonah story to fill the time, so you could show up in the morning and not leave until it was over. This year I'll need to fill a stretch of several hours in some way appropriate to the day.

The year 5780 began for me, personally, on a terrible note caused by evildoers at Stack Exchange Inc. I won't say more about that here (I wrote plenty at the time). As above so below -- the door to their teshuvah remains open should they choose to correct their transgressions, but I, unlike the Holy One, do not hold out infinite hope for sinners to mend their ways. There are more important things in life to focus on.

5780 was the (sob) first year of the global pandemic crisis. On top of the sickness, the deaths, the changes in daily life that come with any pandemic, we in the US saw reckless endangerment, needless deaths, and political profiteering to levels even those of us already worried about the authoritarian trends of the toddler-in-chief did not imagine. He knew. And he let it run rampant anyway. Because he thought, somehow, that it would hurt his political opponents and not his own supporters. Because that oath he swore on taking the office, those words about serving the people (all of them, not just red states) and upholding the constitution and suchlike, was just fluff to him, not a commitment. Having thrown the people under the bus, he's now in full sabotage-the-election mode, betting that he can get away with it as he's gotten away with so much more. At worst, he figures, someone will manage to sue him years from now and he'll pay someone off. I fear for our country.

I fear for our country in other ways too. The white-supremacist-in-chief emboldened bigots ranging from crowds chanting against Jews to attacks on houses of worship to vigilantes fatally "protecting" the public from unarmed demonstrators to police who kill and recklessly endanger black and brown people who are already restrained and thus not threats. (Whites, on the other hand, generally get the benefit of the doubt.) And it would be easy to say that the bigot-in-chief is responsible for all this and we have only to remove him from office, but that's obviously not true -- the roots run much deeper. Our society has work to do.

And that work involves nuance, discussion, hearing and trying to understand others' perspectives, working together with people who are different, acknowledging the humanity of every person. Too many on the far right and the far left believe that they are keepers of the One Truth and that anybody who doesn't commit 100% to their view of truth is an enemy to be disparaged, cancelled, or killed. People are complicated, and attempts to paint monochrome pictures, while enticing to crusaders seeking us-vs-them litmus tests, are failures if the goal is to solve problems rather than to triumph. Too few people are willing to consider positions that exceed the length of a catchy slogan, but that's where the work has to get done.

But for all the trouble that 5780 brought, both personally and on a larger scale, it also brought some moments of personal light. Despite the pandemic, my family and most of my friends are healthy, Dani and I are still employed, and our companies both made the transition to working from home. Even when (I say "when" but don't attach a timeframe to it) it is practical for us to go back to our offices, I think I will do a mix, working from home several days a week and going to the office for direct coworker contact once or twice a week. (I think it's now clear that this would work and I don't expect much resistance.) I don't want to see people only in two dimensions; digital interactions are not the same. But they often suffice if mixed with other interactions, and working from home affords some flexibility (and saved commuting time) that I wouldn't otherwise have. I can go to the weekly lunch-time torah study at my synagogue now, for example, which was never practical from the office.

This year, for basically the first time, I tried growing food and herbs.
I did some things right, some wrong, learned stuff, and have had the benefit of fresh-off-the-plant food when cooking. One of the tomato plants died last month but the other is still producing. I learned that I need to be more aggressive in pruning basil. I learned that I do not have many places that get 6 hours of sunlight a day (what counts as "full sun") and that they move over the course of the season. I planted in pots not the ground so I can move things to chase the sun, but now, as the equinox looms, there is no full sun to be had on my property and I'm not going to move pots over the course of the day. Maybe next year I'll do something on wheels. Maybe I'll just accept a shorter season.

A couple months into the lockdown a friend gave me a sourdough starter. This, too, is something I never would have done in the Before Times. The schedule that sourdough calls for isn't compatible with the daily commute, which leaves weekends, but it's also not compatible with Shabbat. But if I'm home it's easy to tend over the day and a half or so that the process requires.

But my biggest personal silver lining from 5780 is the Codidact project. We -- most of the original people are refugees from Stack Exchange, but we have others now who knew not those evil times -- are building anew, learning from our experiences elsewhere, and doing things we were never able to do on Some Other platform. I'm doing feature design, community management, something like product management, and more. We've launched several communities, including Judaism, to my delight. We have work to do on both the software and community-promotion sides, and we still need to set up a non-profit entity so we can accept donations, but I'm truly excited to be part of this, to be helping to lead this, and with such a great team.

Onward!

Today a friend forwarded me a link to this blog post, which talks about a song I was previously not familiar with. The song reinterprets the Yom Kippur afternoon liturgy in a way I find beautiful, resonant, and yet authentic.

Some context: on Yom Kippur when the temple stood, the high priest enacted an elaborate ritual that included offerings to effect atonement for the people. The traditional afternoon liturgy recounts this ritual. (A good chunk of Tractate Yoma in the talmud covers this in detail.) As the high priest splashed the blood on the altar he would count. This song adds some interpretation to the counting -- while mostly including the traditional text in the song.

If you're familiar with this text, I encourage you to listen to Seder Ha'Avodah by Ishay Ribo before continuing. And heck, even if you aren't familiar and don't understand Hebrew, let it play in the background while you read the rest of this. (You can buy the mp3 here. I now have.)

There's a third-party translation that I'll quote from here.

This part is from the liturgy:

And thus he would say
Please, O God, forgive the sins, the wrongdoings and the transgressions
which I have sinned before You, I and my house

The counting here is from the liturgy; the rest is interpretation:

And if a man could remember
the flaws, the shortcomings
All the transgressions, all the wrongdoings
Thus he would surely count;
One, one and one, one and two
One and three, one and four, one and five
He would give up right away
Because he wouldn't be able to bear
the bitterness, the sin
The shame, the missed opportunity
The loss

And similarly for the second petition:

And thus he would say
Please, O God, forgive the sins, the wrongdoings and the transgressions
which I have sinned before You, I and my house

And if a man could remember
the graces, the favors
All the mercies, all the salvations
Thus he would surely count;
One, one and one, one and two
One of the thousand thousand, thousands of thousands and myriad myriads
of miracles and wonders
which You have done for us
days and nights

Both times the people respond by praising God (from the liturgy).

Dov Bear writes in the blog post:

The idea here is that Atonement comes from within. We must recognize for ourselves what we have done wrong and recognize for ourselves all that has gone right and engage with both the good and the bad honestly, without vanity or depression, and through this exercise of introspection, a form of Atonement can begin. [...]

In the song, both counts are overwhelming. The count of failures is crushing, but the crowd comes to the rescue screaming "Blessed be the name of the glory of his kingdom forever and ever!" The next count is equally shattering, but this count of blessings is a celebration and again the crowd provides the momentum screaming the same words "Blessed be the name of the glory of his kingdom forever and ever!"

As someone who has trouble connecting to the temple service and this particular liturgy, I appreciate this interpretation and find a lot to think about in it, especially this year.

Rosh Hashana, the new year and the Day of Judgement, begins tonight. We've been in a season of repentance for a little while, but we kick it up a notch now through Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).

One of the things we focus on in this season is repentance for errors we have made, intentional or unintentional. In Judaism, teshuva (repentance) isn't just about feeling bad that you did something; the process requires regret, making amends, apologizing to the ones you wronged, and endeavoring to not repeat those mistakes in the future. (The rabbis say that the true validation of teshuva is that you were in the situation again and didn't repeat the mistake. This is, obviously, the part of the process that is partly up to God.)

The problem, of course, is that you have to know you screwed up before you can fix it. If I have wronged or hurt someone, I would like the opportunity to do teshuva. This is not a blanket "if I've offended you please accept my apologies" post, because I don't know how I can do teshuva for things I don't know I did (or know I did but don't know were problems). Instead, this post is a request: if you are reading this, if I have wronged or hurt you, I ask you to contact me privately and give me the opportunity to correct the matter. If correction involves public action it will of course be forthcoming.

I want to screen replies to this post to make it easier for people with Dreamwidth accounts to respond, but I don't see where on the posting page I can do that. My email address is this journal name at pobox.com and DMs are open on Twitter. I'll be offline for the holiday for two days starting soon, but I will respond to anything I receive.

Thank you.

Sunday evening our associate rabbi gave a sermon (video link) on how we use words to include or exclude. Readers of this journal will recognize the talmudic tale she includes. (So will lots of other people; it's kind of famous.) It's easy for discourses on this topic to be pat bordering on dismissive of real human complexities, but this talk was more nuanced. When she posts a text copy I'll add a link, but for now all I have is a video (~20 minutes).

Monday morning our senior rabbi spoke about pachad, deep fear (video link, ~21 minutes; text). I'm not going to try to summarize it.

I chanted torah on the second day. I didn't realize it was being streamed/recorded until somebody told me on Shabbat. Since it was, I'll share video evidence for anybody who wants to know what I'm talking about when I talk about chanting torah. (That's high-holy-day trop or cantillation, which is different from how we chant on Shabbat.) I decided fairly late to do my own translation from the scroll; by default my rabbi would have read it out of the book. It's not a hard translation, but word order is different between Hebrew and English, which is why there are some brief pauses in places you might not expect just knowing the English. (Also, I never really did settle on a good English word for rakiah; I've heard several.)

The high holy days went very well for me this year. It's hard to explain in words, but they did what they are supposed to do. I feel like I'm in a good place for 5777.

I co-led the Ruach service on both Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur mornings again (with the associate rabbi). That went well, and I was particularly tickled by the person who privately asked me if next year I could do it all by myself. (She likes the way I lead.) I pointed out that it would be rather awkward for me to bring that up with the folks in charge.

We started this service several years ago because the sanctuary service, still being done out of Gates of Repentance which has many deficiencies, was hard for some of us to engage with. It's not about formal music; I'm all about some of the formal music of the season. But it sometimes felt like we were being performed at instead of being invited in. So we started this service to do things differently. This year we bought the new machzor, Mishkan HaNefesh, for the whole congregation (previously we had enough copies for the Ruach service, and previous to that we used draft photocopies). And we've just concluded our first year with a real cantor, who is working hard to make the sanctuary service more engaging. So, it is possible that in the not-too-distant future we could get to a point where we no longer need this service. Some (like my fan from the previous paragraph) might think that's a bad thing for me, but I'd actually be delighted to bring more of the congregation to the level that our smaller cohort strives for. We shall see. None of this has been discussed yet; it's just ideas kicking around.

On Sukkot morning I went to Chabad. I met the Chabad rabbi a few years ago when I took what would be the first of (so far) three classes that I've taken from him. He's friendly and welcoming and he encourages women to learn. So I showed up (unannounced) and I felt welcome. There was one other woman there at the beginning, and we got two more by the end, with maybe 15 or 20 men. (Kind of hard to see with the mechitza and some left immediately after.) Most of us went to the sukkah after for a little food and drink, and the conversation was friendly. I chatted with a woman who's a cancer researcher (i.e. she works, in a professional position) and we talked about technology and medicine and conducting clinical trials and stuff.

I only had one problem. Well, two I guess -- I can never keep up with Orthodox prayer; I'm just not that fast. So that wasn't unexpected. But the other was the language barrier. Not Hebrew; while I'm by no means fluent I do ok there. No, I mean that even though they were praying in Hebrew I found it really hard to follow because of pronunciation. There were times when I knew exactly what words I should be hearing, had the siddur in front of me -- and couldn't match up what I was hearing with what I was reading. I wouldn't have expected that to be the steepest learning curve...

(This isn't just about Ashkenazi versus Sephardi pronunciation; I've got a reasonable handle on that. Chabad seems to change vowels compared to other Ashkenazim, so that's two steps removed for me and my Sephardi pronunciation.)

This Chabad, unfortunately, doesn't have their own Friday-night services; part of the reason I'd gone was to scout for alternatives to what are often unsatisfying Friday services at my own synagogue. Bummer. But there will be other occasions to visit; I went on Sukkot because my congregation and another join forces for the festivals, alternating locations, and I wasn't interested in walking two miles each way to the other synagogue.

I drink quite a bit of caffeine, which poses a problem come Yom Kippur each year because of the 25-hour fast (food and drink). Every year I start ramping down the caffeine on Rosh Hashana (10 days earlier), try to reach zero caffeine the day before Yom Kippur, and soldier through. But I always get a caffeine headache anyway. Somebody once suggested that I needed to be at zero caffeine for more like three days, which I haven't managed to do yet. (Yes, I admit my substance addition. Moving on...)

Monday night we were wondering how quickly caffeine leaves the body anyway, and Dani found this article. Lookie here (emphasis mine):

The dosage of caffeine consumed can impact how long it stays in a person’s system. Someone who ingests low dose (especially relative to their body mass) should clear caffeine from their body quicker than someone who ingests a high dose. Though other factors play a prominent role in clearance, the body can only metabolize and excrete a set amount of caffeine at a time; if this threshold is exceeded – metabolism and clearance is compromised. [...]

A heavy caffeine consumer may ingest over 400 mg per day (equivalent to 4 cups of coffee). At this point, enzymes in the liver may be overtaxed and more caffeine (and its metabolites) may accumulate within the body. This accumulation may prevent efficient clearance and result in reabsorption, prolonging excretion times relative to dosage consumed.

Oh really? I had never considered the possibility that one could slow down caffeine loss by overloading. This, I decided, called for science.

Tuesday I drank three cups of coffee, about 12oz of iced tea (equivalent of two teabags), two cans of Coke Zero (Cherry, if we're being precise), about 12oz of apple cider, and about six cups of water. I ate as I normally do in advance of the fast. Then at dinner I had a glass of Coke Zero (maybe 8oz?), followed by a glass of orange juice and a glass of water.

This should be sounding alarm bells to most people experienced with Yom Kippur. All of this is in extreme contrast to the near-universal advice one hears about caffeine and fasting. Possibly that advice is geared more toward the folks who drink a couple cups of coffee a day; I don't know. Also, caffeine is a diuretic so I was concerned about thirst, even with all the water/juice.

But I am here to report that I did not get a caffeine headache today, and I didn't feel any more thirsty than I usually do. In fact, after some thirst pangs this morning, I pretty much didn't notice thirst for the rest of the day. (Also: yes, I slept as well as I usually do on Yom Kippur last night.)

Wow. It's only the one data point, so further research is called for, but initial research results show promise.

(Monday night we also discovered the existence of caffeine patches -- like those nicotine patches smokers wear, but for caffeine -- but there was no way to get some in time.)

I've written before about the alternate service my congregation has on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, the Ruach service. It's very much in the style of our Shabbat minyan -- musical, participatory, full of spirit, and way more traditional than the Reform norm. Originally my rabbi led this service, though a few times he had to leave early (to be at the main service) and said "Monica, take over" -- once with a new prayer book I had not seen before, with the high-holy-day-only special liturgy. (I love the trust he places in me but that one was "exciting".) Then last year he couldn't be there at all and asked me to lead it along with somebody else. The other person was, to put it mildly, quite problematic.

This summer we hired a new associate rabbi and she's been coming to the Shabbat minyan and enjoying it. My rabbi asked the two of us to lead this service. I'm very pleased that he kept me as part of this; it would not have been completely unreasonable (in our congregation) to say that when we have an actual rabbi, the lay person is no longer needed.

We'd only led one service together (a minyan service when the senior rabbi was out of town), but it turns out that she and I work really well together. It usually takes people collaborating on services a little more time to start developing the "hive mind" where things just go. (Yes, of course there's a lot of prep involved, and sticky notes in the book for who's doing what in places, but even with that, services led by people who aren't used to working together often don't look smooth.)

Rosh Hashana was last week and the service went very well. It flowed, it wasn't rushed, and we finished exactly on time. We got lots of compliments. Yom Kippur is Wednesday and I expect we'll have even more people then. I feel really good about this.

Also, chanting Unataneh Tokef on Rosh Hashana clicked for me. I don't mean musically (though that too); I mean the text. This is a grave prayer and I felt it in a way that I haven't felt it when merely reading or listen to it. Oh Rosh Hashana it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed: who shall live and who shall die, who shall be content and who troubled, and so on. Since Rosh Hashana I have attempted to do teshuvah for some specific things, and I hope that come Yom Kippur, when I chant this same text again, I will feel I succeeded.

In honor of the season we deviate from the Daf Yomi cycle. On Yom Kippur we read about the service of the kohein gadol (high priest) on Yom Kippur, when he enters the Holy of Holies, pronounces the divine name, and seeks atonement for the people of Israel. The mishna in the first chapter of Tractate Yoma describes what happens before that:

Seven days before Yom Kippur they remove the high priest from his house and move him to the cell of the counselors. Another priest is prepared so that, should something happen to the high priest, another can take over. A substitute wife is also prepared for the high priest lest his wife die, because the torah says he makes atonement for himself and his house, and "his house" requires a wife. (But only one wife because it says "house", not "houses"; there is some complexity in the discussion here.)

During these seven days they provide elders of the beit din (rabbinic court), who read before him the order of the service and urge him to memorize it, because perhaps he forgot or never learned. On the day before Yom Kippur they bring before him all the animals that will be offered, so he will recognize them and be familiar with what is to be done. Late in the day leading up to Yom Kippur they prevent him from eating much, lest he eat too much and fall asleep. They then take him to the elders of the priesthood and make him swear that he will not change a single thing from what they have taught him. Then he (if learned) or others (if not) would expound on torah, and read from Job, Ezra, Chronicles, and sometimes Daniel. And they would keep him up all night occupied with torah.

(It may sound like they're treating him as a child or an ignoramus. Perhaps they are (under Roman rule the position of high priest was sold to the highest bidder, for instance). But it's also important to remember that this service is essential for the people's relationship with God and that we've seen what happens when instructions for service aren't followed correctly -- Aharon's sons Nadav and Avihu brought aish zarah, an "alien fire", and were struck down. Had they been representing the whole people, what might have happened? Even the most learned must study the haggadah at Pesach, and even the most learned high prist must study the Yom Kippur service.)

(Today's daf is Nazir 26.)

( background; some of you may know this already so I'm cutting )

So that brings us to this year. Apparently my rabbi got a fair bit of flack for not being in the sanctuary for the entire service (we have another rabbi, and a cantorial soloist, by the way), so he said he would not be able to lead the "ruach" services and asked me to do it. (Frankly, I believe I'm the only layperson in the congregation with all of the skills needed to do so.) I consider this a great honor, and my rabbi prominently honored me on Rosh Hashana during the torah service, so that's nice. (Funny story there, actually -- below the line.)

We are using the draft of the new machzor (about which I wrote previously). Rosh Hashana went pretty well aside from timing; my timing was spot-on for the target they had given me, but the folks in the sanctuary were moving more quickly so we had to hurry at the end. It appears that we will also be short on time for Yom Kippur, so I've done my best to make it fit and trim optional parts. I've practiced all the unfamiliar parts for Yom Kippur, as I did for Rosh Hashana last week, and I think I'm ready.

And for next year, I'm going to ask for an earlier start. This service starts at the same time as the sanctuary service because that was the earliest the rabbi could participate (rightly needing a break after the first service), but if we can't have the rabbi anyway, why not start half an hour earlier?

(In case you're wondering how two services can start at the same time and yet the other gets ahead of ours -- it's because the sanctuary service, using Gates of Repentance, skips all sorts of stuff that ought to be in there, while this service (and the minyan out of which it grew) strives for something more authentic.)

Here's the funny story: in recognition of my work with that service, my rabbi invited me to dress the torah (g'lilah) after it was read. There is another honor at that point, hgabahah, lifting the torah and turning around so everybody can see the text. This requires some coordination as you're holding the scroll overhead, from the bottom. The scroll we were using is also on the heavy side. But hey, I'm g'lilah; if the other person can handle that, the weight needn't concern me, right? The person who does the lifting then holds the scroll until it's time to return it to the ark.

So the other person was our associate rabbi. And he was helping to lead the part of the service right after this, so he couldn't hold it. So that meant me. That's still ok; just sitting there holding a heavy scroll isn't hard. Managing the prayerbook one-handed was a bit challenging, but I had that under control.

So, on Rosh Hashana we do the shofar service during the torah service (after the haftarah, for those who are curious). The shofar service is broken into three sections: a set of prayers and readings, then you stand for the shofar blasts, and then you sing s short song that's at a completely different place in this particular prayerbook. Then you sit down and iterate.

So as it turned out, I wasn't just holding the scroll in my lap. I got a bit of a workout! :-)

Also, did not prostrate during the Great Aleinu that fell during this time...

The Reform movement is publishing a new machzor (prayerbook for the high holy days) after several decades. The format is similar to Mishkan T'filah, the new rest-of-year prayerbook that was published a few years ago. Just as MT was intended to replace Gates of Prayer (its predecessor), the new machzor is intended to replace Gates of Repentance (GoR). I am one of the people in my congregation who was asked to evaluate it for possible purchase. (Actually, what we're evaluating is draft editions of certain services. My comments are based on the morning services for Rosh Hashsna and Yom Kippur.)

Now that I've shared my comments with my rabbi and the head of the committee, I'll go ahead and share them here. I'd love to hear opinions from people in other congregations who have also taken a look at the drafts.

( a brief note on context )

( my review notes )

There is a prayer/song in the Yom Kippur liturgy called "Ki Anu Amecha", of the form: "we are your people, you are our king; we are your flock, you are our shepherd; we are your children, you are our father" etc. Last year for Kol Nidrei my rabbi asked me to write a short kavanah, or intention, to read at the service before singing this. (In a great display of trust of which I am quite mindful, he did not screen this before I read it in front of 900 people.) I didn't post this here at the time; I meant to post it before Yom Kippur this year instead. But I didn't, so here it is now.

* * *

The Avinu Malkeinu prayer describes what God is to us -- our father and king. Both of these are one-sided; there is nothing about our role, our place in God's realm. The caring father and the just king both act upon us, not with us. So after days of pleading to the frightening, distant Avinu Malkeinu, it is time to add new images to our conception of God. It is time for us to be actors and not just acted-upon.

Ki Anu Amecha adds the relationship that has been missing until now. God is still Malkeinu, but we are his people. Still Avinu, but we are his children. Now we matter, taking our place as partners with God. Further, our view of God is not limited now to Avinu and Malkeinu -- God is shepherd to our flock, portion to our congregation, and most powerfully, our friend.

Friend? I don't know if I'm ready for God to be my friend. That's even more intimidating than Avinu and Malkeinu -- a true friend knows me as well as, or better than, I know myself. I am flawed, broken, not the best person I can be, and it's all laid bare for a true friend. Can I stand up to the scrutiny of a divine friend? On this Yom Kippur I look more for the divine teacher or the divine shepherd. I am grateful that God offers us so many ways to relate to each other; if one does not resonate for me this year, another will. What is most important is that the relationship exists; in Ki Anu Amecha God reaches out to us as surely as we reach out to him, true partners in teshuva and atonement on this grave night of Kol Nidrei.

Yom Kippur was really good for me this year. I haven't had time to assemble a more-organized post (and lookie, Sukkot starts tomorrow night!), but I want to record a few disconnected thoughts.

We had the minyan-style (Ruach) service for the morning service again, this time using the draft of the new Reform machzor (which is in beta test and is, I believe, scheduled for publication in 2015). We also, for the first time, had a minyan-style service for Rosh Hashana and used that draft too. Overall I am pleased with what I saw of the new machzor; there are certainly decisions I would make differently (including a major formatting one), it's still way, way better than Gates of Repentance, the current book. Ok, granted, that's a low bar, but still...

At that service on Rosh Hashana at one point my rabbi stood up and said "tag, you're it" (not in those words), leaving me to proceed from an unfamiliar book. (He had to go downstairs to the other service.) I stumbled some but got kudos from congregants for my attempt. So on Yom Kippur I got there early so I could review the new book, and he was able to stay. But hey, I would have been prepared to lead the vidui and s'lichot if I'd've had to. (The minyan-style service goes until the torah service, at which point we all adjourn to the sanctuary for the rest.)

I chanted torah for the afternoon service again, same part as last year. They gave me the same part for Rosh Hashana morning as last year, too. I detect a pattern. :-) I'm hoping that next year will be the year I actually learn high-holy-day trope.

On Yom Kippur afternoon, to fill time between services so people don't have to leave if they don't want to, we have a beit midrash, classes. To my surprise there was nothing I wanted to go to during the first hour, so I found a quiet corner and read more of the new machzor. (And just sat and thought for a while.) During the second hour I went to a class that was really more of a discussion about forgiveness, more focused on the human element than halacha. More questions than answers here -- do you have to forgive someone who intentionally hurt you, does "forgive" imply "forget", can you put a situation behind you without actually resolving it (psychologically, I mean) and just not let that guy live rent-free in your brain any more or do people need closure, stuff like that. Lots to think about; little to report.

I found many of my thoughts over the day drifting to someone in authority over a community I dedicated a lot of energy to, who repeatedly and unapologetically misused that authority in ways that damaged me, and the other people who stood by and let it happen. I am trying really hard to just ignore the whole thing, while at the same time wishing that maybe somebody would learn something from it.

At the ne'ilah service (the last one of the day, near sunset), the associate rabbi spontaneously invited anybody who wanted to to come up onto the bimah in front of the open ark for the service. Nobody stood immediately, but a moment later I did -- not sure what was driving me, but I'm glad I did (and a dozen or so people joined me). It was a different experience, and even though God isn't physical so proximity doesn't mean anything, being right there in front of the open ark did...something. It definitely enhanced my prayer.

The eerie, plaintive voice of the shofar is a wake-up call, one that for me is muddled when in my congregation we have groups of people (mostly children) blow in what turns into a competition for who can hold t'kiah g'dolah the longest. People smile and chuckle and lose the meaning in it. This year, by some quirk of fate, every service I attended in Elul and for Rosh Hashana had but one shofar blower.

On Rosh Hashana morning I closed my eyes during t'kiah g'dolah, listening to the faint cry grow louder, stronger, more earnest with each passing moment. I imagined myself at the foot of Har Sinai, hearing but not seeing the divine shofar blast, taking in but not understanding the thunder and smoke as God prepared to speak. At Har Sinai and in services in my congregation both, I was in the presence of the awesome, fearsome God who could, in an instant, judge me for death or for life. Reflecting on my failings of the last year (and longer), I knew I had not truly earned the outcome I prayed for, but that somehow God might accept my teshuva anyway if I do it and mean it.

"Arise, you slumberers, from your slumber", the Rambam proclaims, "you are wasting your years in vain pursuits that neither profit nor save". I've read those words in our machzor every year, but this year they jumped out at me and then followed me home for more examination. The Rambam isn't talking about the relaxation and fun we all need in our lives, I don't think; he's talking about the pursuits that we put real effort into without gain.

Like a certain online community I've helped build over the last two years, only to see it go in a damaging direction while its custodians look on and do nothing. Perhaps I should have known that any "neutral" religion-related community would eventually be dominated by evangelical Christians who do not see their own bias. I've been trying to set the community back on its original course of respectful dialogue, but now I realize my efforts are ineffective. I could keep trying, but this year's lone shofar called me to re-evaluate this vain pursuit that neither profits nor saves. There are others who need my attention more, chief among them my own neshama, my own soul/spirit.

The Unetaneh Tokef prayer tells us that on Rosh Hashana it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, who shall live and who shall die, ...who shall be troubled and who shall be tranquil. Last year it seems I was decreed to be among the troubled; this year may I merit to be among the tranquil.

-------------------------

Related thoughts, and a discussion of site direction. And yes, this was the subject of my "sunk costs" post back in March; obviously I didn't manage to stay gone after I left.

Rosh Hashana begins in a couple hours. Shana tova to all; may you be inscribed for a happy and healthy new year.

Several years ago we added a service for the second day of Rosh Hashana. The other holidays are celebrated for two days outside of Israel and one day there, but Rosh Hashana is celebrated for two days everywhere. The Reform movement follows the Israeli calendar (holding that the reason for the extra day no longer applies), but many Reform congregations eliminate the extra day for Rosh Hashana too. Our rabbi decided (with support from other leaders) that if we say we follow the Israeli calendar we should really do it, hence the second day.

Our second-day service is more intimate than the first-day service, but is still a complete service. Members of the congregation share in leading the service and do the torah-reading. There isn't a big sermon like on the first day, but there's a shorter message. Over the years some people have told us that this is their favorite service, preferring it over the grand service on the first day.

As expected, turnout is rather lower for the second day. We started in a year where the second day fell on a Sunday and got about 50 people that year; on weekdays attendance is lower. Last year at this service we re-dedicated the chapel after renovations and got an attendance boost. This year, the second day was on a Tuesday.

We had about 80 people. Some were visitors from out of town who came with members, some I didn't know at all, and some sought us out because we're apparently the only local Reform congregation that does this. We got lots of thanks and compliments after the service.

One lesson I take from this: we have got to start advertising this. We offer a service that fills a void no one else is filling, and we do it well. We don't require tickets on the second day; anybody who hears about it is welcome to come. Next year I want to work a little on helping people to hear about it, like we did with our amazingly-successful children's service on the first day. (Last year we outgrew our space, so this year we rented space down the street at the JCC. As long as we were renting a hall anyway, we invited the community -- and got twice as many people as last year.)

Our second-day service is really pretty special. I'm glad we started it.

The fall holy days kick off tonight with Rosh Hashana, the new year (5773) and day of judgment. I wish everyone reading this a good and sweet new year. I'll be slower to respond to email and comments than usual for the next few weeks.

Technically the high-holy-day season began with the first day of the month of Elul a few weeks ago, but some think of it as starting with S'lichot, the recitation of penitential prayers that begins (for Ashkenazim) several days before Rosh Hashana. That was last night.

Until now I had only ever gone to Reform services for this, and this year I was feeling the need to experience something more traditional. My Orthodox shul of choice for such things is Young People's Synagogue, which I've visited a few times on Friday nights. They didn't publish a time for S'lichot on their web site, so I sent email to the president of the congregation to introduce myself and ask. I got a nice, prompt reply welcoming me and giving me the information I needed. He mentioned that Dan Leger would be speaking; Dan is a member of Dor Chadash who I know from the Tree of Life morning minyan (yeah, Pittsburgh is like that), so that was an extra bonus.

( would go again; in fact, will on Sukkot )

The rabbis say that in the time of the moshiach (messiah) Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, will be like Purim. (There's word-play there.) No moshiach yet, but something along those lines (in reverse) is coming up.

I'm part of a group that's doing a pilot evaluation of a new machzor (high-holy-day prayerbook). Tomorrow night we're sort-of having a Kol Nidrei service for the evening of Yom Kippur. Should be interesting! Years ago our morning minyan piloted the new siddur Mishkan T'filah (over several weeks) and I found that process very engaging for me. I'm looking forward to seeing what the new machzor has in store for us.

(Well ok; I have an advance copy of just this part of it and I paged through it tonight. But going through it with a congregation is different.)

This was a really productive Yom Kippur, from the robo-call on the answering machine Friday afternoon about lashon hara (yeah, really) through Kol Nidrei last night and the whole day today. Parts of the liturgy newly resonated with me, I heard two excellent sermons (maybe more on that later), and the new morning service was a rousing success.

On that last: I was expecting 30-40 people, basically the minyan regulars minus some who'd said they wanted to be in the sanctuary, plus some curious others. We had 80 and had to send out for more prayerbooks twice. The room seats about 100; we may be in trouble next year. Lots of people complimented me on it and my rabbi said many kind things about me for organizing it. We had my rabbi for the first hour and had lots of spirited singing, just like in the minyan. We had only expected to have him for half an hour, so plans about timing went out the window, but it was obvious that he really wanted to be there and of course everybody wanted him to be there, so I think we need to see if we can make that easier next year -- maybe start half an hour earlier? Because of the extra time we spent in the opening section we had to rush to try to catch up with the sanctuary service -- which was complicated by the fact that they were making up for a late start by adjusting and ended up running early. So while we had intended to enter the sanctuary at the beginning of the torah service, we actually missed the first few aliyot. Oops. We'll do better next year.

Even with the responsibility of running things -- it can be challenging to really pray when you're also responsible for watching the clock and tracking the people who might need extra page cues and signaling to your assistant leaders about changes to make and so on -- I was able to really engage with this service, and it was a great way to start a day spent in the synagogue. This ended up being even better than just switching the two morning sanctuary services (my original request) would have been; the new service had a much higher lowest common denominator, in terms of fluency, and that's huge. I carried the high from this service through most of the rest of the day. (My mind always wanders during Yizkor, which is more about the dreary English readings in our machzor than it is about Yizkor itself, but the rest was good.)

I read torah at the afternoon service. I didn't manage to learn the special high-holy-day trope this year either, either for Rosh Hashana or for Yom Kippur (I read on both). Someday... (Nobody else uses it, but I want to try -- and maybe start a trend.)

( fast notes )

OT: LiveJournal could go back to the fixed-width, larger font in the main part of the "post" page any time now, ahem. Yes, I filed a bug report. (I compose in emacs and paste in, but it's still a pain to do edits like the addition of this paragraph.)

In honor of the season, today's daf bit is an overview of the mishna in Yoma concerning the preparations of the high priest for the Yom Kippur service.

The kohein gadol (high priest) performs his most important duty on Yom Kippur, when he enters the holy of holies and makes expiation for the people. (Well, did when the temple stood.) It's really important to get it right. But remember that the position of kohein gadol is inherited, not based on merit. The position calls for respect but not a presumption of expertise.

Seven days before Yom Kippur the kohein gadol was taken from his home to a special chamber with counselors, and a backup priest was made ready in case anything happened to the kohein gadol. They brought elders who spent the week reviewing or teaching him the order of the service. On the eve of Yom Kippur they placed him at the gate so he could watch the animals being brought and see how they are offered. During the week they did not withhold food and drink from him, but near nightfall on the last day they would not let him eat lest it make him sleepy. They then took him to the place of the service and respectfully pleaded with him to not change anything of what they had taught him. If he was a sage he would expound and if not the disciples present would do so, and then he or the disciples (depending on his ability) would read scripture: Job, Ezra, and Chronicles. If he started to nod off they would wake him and keep him amused until it was time for the morning offering. (2a, 18a, 18b, 19b)

For several years our congregation has had double services for the high holy days (fire codes, y'know...). Since there are two services, they don't have to be identical; all the prayers are the same, of course, as are the torah reading and sermon, but the music is different. One keeps the long-standing "classical Reform" style that only comes out (in our congregation) on the high holy days -- operatic-style choir, organ, music you can only listen to and not join -- and the other uses more-accessible melodies where you can understand the words, led by a cantorial soloist. Guess which one I prefer. :-)

The first year we did this, the earlier service got the less-formal music. The next year I suggested switching (thinking we could take turns, because everybody prefers the time of the later service), but it didn't happen, and hasn't in the years since (people keep asking).

The problem on Yom Kippur is that we've set things up so that you can stay at the synagogue all day -- morning service, afternoon service, study sessions, dramatic presentation of the book of Jonah, end-of-day service... staying all day really helps to focus on the day and away from the fast and the world outside. But, the people who actually stay all day, rather than leaving after the morning service and coming back at the end, are, overwhelmingly, the people who want the less-formal music. I can't speak for anybody else, but for me this is not mere preference; the "classical Reform" style actively interferes with my kavanah, my spiritual intention. I've tried really hard, but I just can't do it. So people like that have a choice come early, find something to do for two and a half hours, and then continue with the rest of the day, or suck it up and go to the late service.

But we have an opportunity this year. After some renovations completed about a month ago, we have a suitable space in which we can have a service in the style of our Shabbat morning minyan, to run concurrently with the late service. We'll do that until it's time for the torah service and sermon, and at that point we'll all go to the sanctuary. So we're having 2.5 services this year. I wonder what this will do to the early (sanctuary) service, but I've heard enough people say that they want to be in the sanctuary (even if it's early) and not in the chapel with the minyan that I don't think it will be a problem. Y'see, both the new service and the early service offer more-accessible music, but there are other differences: the new service, arising out of the minyan, will likely attract a crowd that is more fluent in the service and more interested in achieving that kavanah I spoke of. You can do that in the sanctuary services, but it may be a little harder with the addition of more English responsive readings and the like.

I'd be excited about the new service anyway, but I'm especially excited because I will be helping to lead it. My rabbi can't be absent from the sanctuary service for the whole time, so he'll come to the start of ours, then join the other one already in progress later, at which point lay leaders will take over. I got the t'filah. The t'filah for Yom Kippur has extra stuff that's not in there the rest of the year, but I've practiced and I think I'm ready. While the responsibility is palpable (more on that general theme in tomorrow's daf bit), it's also exciting. I often reach my best kavanah when I'm leading like-minded people, and I'm looking forward to seeing what this will be like on the holiest day of the year.

Teshuvah was easier when my sins were harder by

530nm330hz nicely captures how I've been feeling during the high holy days this year. I have plenty of big flaws to work on, of course, some pretty basic, but as we attack the more-accessible ones it can feel like an uphill climb to tackle the others. Food for thought.

It's like clearing a rockslide. It's easy to find the large rocks, and though they may be heavy, you get a sense of accomplishment with each one you get out of the way --- by rolling, by lifting, it doesn't matter. Then you get to the pebbles and it gets starts to get tedious, but you know it needs to be done. And then you get to the sand and no matter how hard or often you sweep, there's still some left behind --- so you get discouraged and wonder what's the point; maybe you've done enough, so you stop for a while.

My rabbi asked me to write something (brief) to read during the shofar service on Rosh Hashana, specifically the "shofarot" section. (The shofar service is in three parts: "malchuyot', in which we acknowledge God's sovereignty; "zichronot", in which we acknowledge God's role in our history; and "shofarot", in which we recall revelation.) This is what I wrote:

The shofar blasted from the top of a mountain wreathed in smoke, and we stood at the mountain's foot and trembled in fear and awe, anticipating divine revelation. We knew little of God then but yet were ready to say na'aseh v'nishma, we will do and we will hear.

The shofar blasts today, and I wonder how I will react. Will I stand and tremble again, in fear or awe or anticipation of the judgment to come? Or will I just hear the sound of a ram's horn, a part of our ritual and nothing more?

The shofar blast invites me back to Sinai, to the uncertainty and fear but also the awe and wonder. I pray that I am open to it enough to follow that lead, to experience the smoking mountain and divine revelation anew. Today is not just Rosh Hashana; it is an encounter with God, if we permit it.

Tonight begins Rosh Hashana and the year 5772. Shana tova and may you all be inscribed for a good year.

Monica

Rosh Hashana 5781

Goodbye 5780

a different take on the Yom Kippur avodah

Rosh Hashana and the season of repentance

a few Rosh Hashana links

high holy days and Sukkot

hacking my body: study results

Ruach services

daf bit: Yoma chapter 1

Ruach services

machzor pre-review

Ki Anu Amecha

some rambling notes from Yom Kippur

the shofar call

hello 5774

Rosh Hashana (2nd day)

shana tova

S'lichot

Tishrei in Adar

that went well

daf bit: Yoma

something new for Yom Kippur

the challenge of self-improvement

a brief shofar thought

happy new year

Expand Cut Tags

Syndicate