cellio | Entries tagged with high holy days

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.

Al cheit shechatanu l'fanecha... with these words we confess our sins, generally and collectively. We have been stubborn, we have disrespected our elders, we have used hurtful speech... the list goes on, seeming to cover nearly every possible transgression. But is it really a confession without specifics? Does confessing to these general sins cleanse my soul, sort of like an annual "get out of judgment free" card? No, this text challenges me to look much deeper.

Al cheit shechatanu l'fanecha... for the sin we have sinned before you with inappropriate speech -- and I think of the times I fell too easily into making negative comments about an acquaintance without having all the facts. For the sin we have sinned before you in public actions -- and I think of whether I could have achieved my goals at that meeting more gently, without making others uncomfortable. For the sin we have sinned before you by acquiescing to immorality -- and I think about standing silently when a friend made a derogatory joke at the expense of a group not my own. For the sin we have sinned before you privately -- and I think of the times I have "cut corners" with God when I could have done more to deepen our relationship, and I think of how nothing is ever private from HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

To me "al cheit" is not just a confession, a litany of sins. It is a list of reminders, a prompt to really look inward and examine my behavior over the last year. The list includes transgressions committed unknowingly, but how can I correct them if I don't know about them? "Al cheit" urges me to know them anyway, even though it is uncomfortable, in the hope that if I can confront them, maybe I can prevent some of them in the coming year. Just confessing and moving on would be easier; this text calls me to do more to set myself on the right course, one transgression at a time. Al cheit shechatanu l'fanecha... what have I hidden from myself, that this text helps me uncover?

Baruch atah Adonai, 'ozreinu lizkor.
Blessed are you, O God, who helps us to remember.

My rabbi asked me to write something about this prayer to be read in the Yom Kippur morning service. (He specifically requested some sort of chatimah, the part at the end, in case you're wondering.) Normally I don't publish work intended for presentation before said presentation, but this is more relevant if it's available before Yom Kippur is over so I'm breaking my rule.

( Read more... )

5770 is drawing to a close tomorrow. Happy new year and shana tova tikateivu, all.

Yes, the holidays are early this year. Well actually, the holidays are on time -- Tishrei right after Elul, as expected. I like to think that September is late. :-)

(Online presence will be reduced.)

First I was asked to chant torah on Yom Kippur afternoon, which I accepted. Then last week my rabbi asked me if I could also do so on the second day of Rosh Hashana, which I accepted. Then today the second rabbi (knowing all this) asked if I could also do so on the first day of Rosh Hashana. (One short aliya each, not everything.) I am pleased and flattered by the amount of trust and confidence they show in me. I had told both of them that I've done these latter two portions before and could refresh them quickly if a last-minute fill-in was needed, and they took me up on it.

(I did tell the second rabbi that I felt funny taking three before the other regular readers capable of doing this on short notice had two. He said he had other gaps to fill too.)

Two of these three should be a fairly quick refresher. It's possible, actually, that I can still do one of them cold. (pause to check) Ok, not completely, but not far off.

One of the many fences created by the rabbis is that of muktzah. This is a class of object that you're not even supposed to handle on Shabbat, because the primary use of that object involves activities that are forbidden on Shabbat. So, for example, you aren't supposed to handle writing utensils, your gardening equipment, the TV's remote control, etc.

Recently, while contemplating the logistics of a pot-luck break-fast for Yom Kippur, I found myself wondering: since Yom Kippur is Shabbat Shabbaton (the Shabbat of Shabbats), and it's a fast day -- on that day is food mutkzah?

I don't actually have anything riding on the answer to this (if I did I'd ask my rabbi); I'll take my contribution over before the holiday starts, most likely. But I do find myself wondering about the principles involved. Torah law doesn't need to follow consistent principles -- it is what it is -- but rabbinic law does.

( Read more... )

Tonight is Kol Nidre, the beginning of Yom Kippur, so I won't be around tonight or tomorrow. To those who observe, have an easy fast.

According to the Rambam we know that someone has done teshuvah when he makes amends, asks for forgiveness, and doesn't do the same thing again when put in a similar situation later. This year I found myself saying to someone that I don't know if I'll do the same thing because habits are hard to break, but I will certainly try not to. I suspect this is a common case (though not necessarily articulated as such). I find myself wondering whether the Rambam means "yeah, it could take years to know", or if he means the narrower case of your intention at the time that you apologize and ask forgiveness.

The problem can be bad habits or obliviousness (the latter being, I suppose, a case of the former). So in that vein, if I have done harm to anyone reading this in the last year, there is a good chance I don't know, which makes it challenging to make amends. I would appreciate it if you would help me out by contacting me privately to let me know that we need to speak. (Fortunately, given the timing, the gates of repentance do not close at the end of Yom Kippur.)

- Normal 15-minute drive home from work Friday took 45 minutes.
+ But I'd done most of the cooking the night before.
+ Used special candles that were a Pesach present from

lefkowitzga's father.
- Kabbalat shabbat shrunk to make room for Rosh Hashana.
+ Seasonal motifs work: the majesty of the HHD music was quite evocative.
- Off-by-one error in the assigned torah readings left me preparing one more verse five minutes before the service.
+ I could, in part because I thought that might happen and looked at it briefly the night before.
+ Compliment from several: "you sounded like you knew what you were chanting". That's because I did, and I also got the climax of the passage.
+ Excellent sermon jumping off from Yishmael (not Yitzchak as we often do).
- Morning liturgy felt choppy to me: day-of-judgment stuff was very effective but we seemed to spend more time celebrating the creation of the world instead. Maybe I need to get myself a traditional machzor to better learn and appreciate. (Suggestions welcome.)
+ Unatana tokef brought out the gravity of the day quite thoroughly.
- I wish I'd felt more of that before Rosh Hashana.
+ Second-day service was a nice complement to the first.
+ The rising crescendo of the last shofar blast, t'kiah g'dolah; to conserve breath it starts low and quiet and then intensifies to the final blast. *shiver*
-/+ No guests (minus), but it meant meals could be lower key and that turned out to be good.
+ Afternoon games of Pandemic, because it's ok to not spend all your time focusing on the themes of the season.

Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur bracket the Yamim Noraim, the ten days of awe, but the season really begins before Rosh Hashana. During the whole month of Elul we're supposed to be preparing; we hear the shofar every morning to remind us. (Except today, actually -- we don't sound it right before the holiday.) While we have until Yom Kippur (or, according to some, even later) to seek forgiveness and make amends for the wrongs we've done, we can and should start well before Rosh Hashana, the day of judgement. Someone on my reading list (I forget who; please identify yourself if you see this) charactized this as saving God some writing and erasing -- if we clear up the problem before God records the deed on Rosh Hashana, God doesn't then have to erase it on Yom Kippur after we fix it. I like that bit of motivation. It's not that it never happened; we're still accountable. But by being proactive we can lessen the burden a bit, a good general lesson for any time of year.

But as a consequence of all of this, I don't connect as much as I should with Rosh Hashana as the (big, singular) day of judgement. It's more like the day of the preliminary hearing. It's important, but it's not the final word. I'm more afraid of Yom Kippur than of Rosh Hashana. I'm not trying to make light of it; I'm just trying to see it in context. I know that others, while beginning their preparations earlier, can appreciate the gravity of the day better than I can now, so maybe I'll get there.

We celebrate Rosh Hashana as the birthday of the world and acknowledge it as the day of judgement. Two themes, seemingly very different but maybe not so different after all. We're all used to the annual performance review and the annual reconciling of financial accounts (and payment of taxes). These are tied to points in time. So, too, the birthday of the world seems a good day for the divine evaluation of the world's residents. (And as my associate rabbi pointed out last night, while this is a Jewish holiday, there's nothing specifically Jewish about its themes -- it's not like, say, Pesach, that commemorates an event specifically in Jewish history. We all have a share in the world and all who believe in God have to settle our accounts.)

I was thinking, last night at ma'ariv, that the day and the year have something in common. We begin the day not at the artifical hour of midnight or at the seemingly-natural time of sunrise, but rather at sunset, as twilight comes to be followed by night. At the beginning of the day things start to darken, with the most challenging or dangerous times to come in a few hours, but by the mid-point (mid-day, so to speak) things are brightening up and the day reaches a climax in light and warmth. So too with the year -- we begin it now, as autumn comes to be followed by the cold, dark winter, but we know that spring and summer are coming. (What's the mid-point of the year? Roughly Pesach.) There's even a rabbinic tradition that the first Rosh Hashana was not on the first day of creation but on the sixth, the day man was created, after which things went downhill rather quickly but will ultimately end in redemption.

Maybe that's the connection -- things seem darker now, as we are being judged and found wanting, but the coming year will grow warm again and we will too, God willing, if we take action. Either that, or I'm reading way too much into this.

Torah portion for Saturday: check.
Haftarah for Sunday: check.
Meals: check. (I have high hopes for the honey-glazed chicken.)
Amends made: not enough, but yeah.
Introspection and soul-searching: ongoing.

L'shana tova to those who celebrate. May 5770 be a sweet and prosperous year (please).

For the rest of you, happy weekend. :-)

My congregation tries to have recent b'nei mitzvah do the torah readings on the high holy days, but they sometimes need adults to fill in and I usually get tapped for this. So it was no surprise to get a piece of mail on Thursday with a portion. They don't need to mail me the portion (just telling me the verses would be fine), but it's easier on the office to mail things out to everybody, I'm told. So now I have another piece of paper that I can't recycle because it contains the divine name; into the stack it goes, and someday I'll make that stack someone else's problem. So far so good.

Then today came the audio CD, which I also don't need, but it's easier on the office... But what I am to make of the one-verse offset between the written passage and what's on the CD? Oops. (It's written on the CD, else I never would have noticed because I never would have played it.)

I can handle it either way (in fact, I've already negotiated the boundary with the person before me, whose CD was also off by one), but I hope this doesn't mess anyone else up. Or rather, I hope the other readers are also observant enough to notice the problem before they get too far. Maybe I better call the office on Tuesday.

This year the contrast between two statements in the machzor (special prayer book for these holidays) struck me. We have both of the following statements:

1. For transgressions against God Yom Kippur attones, but for transgressions against other people, YK does not attone until you have made peace with that person. [1]

2. The "release": I forgive those who have wronged me and please don't punish them on my account, and I hope they say the same about me. (This is a paraphrase.)

If I am "off the hook" for something I did via #2 (the other person made this blanket statement) but I never actually made amends, how can I attone under #1 -- we didn't make peace? Or is the point to be strict on my own actions (I must make peace) but liberal on others'? I could think that #2 is for unknown offenses (I can't make amends if I don't know I wronged you), except that the text of the release says "intentional and unintentional".

(Am I correct in assuming that #2 is not a liberal innovation? I've never actually used or studied a traditional machzor, though I am motivated to find one now because a number of the translations [2] in ours struck me as wrong and I want to know what the Hebrew really says.)

[1] There's what amounts to a good-faith exclusion here, so you can't be hosed by someone who consistently refuses to forgive you.

[2] Reform prayer books before Mishkan T'filah feature a mix of loose translations and "alternative readings" (usually but not always marked as such). I am in the position of knowing enough Hebrew to see the issues but not enough to be able to just translate the text myself.

Yom Kippur begins tonight. To those who observe, may you have a tzom kal (easy fast) and an uplifting day. To the rest of you, happy Thursday.

My rabbi will be speaking tonight and our new rabbi will speak for the first time tomorrow morning. I'm looking forward to both. In the afternoon we will have our by-now-traditional beit midrash -- classes to fill the time between services, so you can just stay at the synagogue all day. I find that helps me a lot in maintaining focus. Mind, by about hour 22 of the fast my focus is fading anyway. I spend yizkor (we have ours late in the day) in a fog, but that's ok because I'm not really into yizkor anyway. (Traditionally speaking, I have no reason to go -- thank God.) I do find that the energy returns for ne'ilah, the final set of prayers. Someday I'd like to find an analysis of the whole Yom Kippur experience taking into account physiology and psychology; I'll bet the day and its liturgy are structured the way they are for reasons beyond theology.

I learned some years ago that the secret to fasting is a large, proteinful lunch (not dinner). And because we can't do it on Yom Kippur, we're supposed to have a festive meal beforehand. We had a lunchtime meeting today (bring your own). Later I received some inquiring comments about my sushi spread. :-)

Rosh Hashana went well for me this year. Services were good, I got to participate, I had guests both days, and I feel like I've gotten some introspection time this season (need more work there, though).

My rabbi gave an excellent sermon that's hard to recap. (That's not a complaint; he is very good at sermon-craft in my humble opinion. Sermons are not mere bullet-points; they should settle in somewhat deeper.) He started (after making a connection from that day's torah reading) by talking about Rivka, who, on finding out that two nations were struggling in her womb, asked "lamah zeh anochi?" -- "why am I?" Why is she what, one might ask -- the thought seems incomplete. Or maybe it is complete, and she's asking "why bother?". From this he made a connection to other situations where we might ask "why am I?". There was a lot of good thought-fodder there.

We have a second-day service, which this year filled but did not totally pack the chapel. That's still pretty good for a Wednesday! I chanted torah (which I'd been asked to do the previous Saturday, but I did this portion last year so it was a faster prep). The other two readers read rather than chanting; I didn't know that in advance and I hope no one felt upstaged. I must remember for the future that the reading desk in the chapel is both a little too small and a little too tall, especially if the scroll is wound all the way to one end. We read B'reishit on the second day, so I read the very first verses of the torah. It was hard to see due to the physical setup. Next time I will ask for a step-stool!

Tuesday lefkowitzga joined me for lunch. We had: the standards (wine, challah, apples with honey), baked chicken with peanut sauce, roasted potatoes/carrots/onions, something green (was it broccoli?), and pizelles for dessert (maybe something else too). Drat; should have written that down sooner. Wednesday I invited some fellow congregants (including a pescetarian), and we had: the standards, starfruit, raw veggies with hummus, camembert with crackers (all that was a pre-set), and foil-poached salmon (served cold), brown rice, broccoli. Dessert was a yummy plum tart brought by a guest. I had, but forgot to serve, grapes as well. Wines were Rashi Claret (Tuesday, with leftovers Wednesday) and Rashi "white" -- not further specified, but tasty. The red was labelled "semi-sweet" so I wasn't sure how I'd like it, but it was nice. I'd drink either of these again. (My tastes usually run to pinot grigios or rieslings.)

Shabbat morning the "goofy question" was to name something we like about this season -- a piece of music, food, some aspect of liturgy, family connections, whatever. While there are many things I like, for me the big thing is that there is both the obligation and the opportunity to correct past problems. Opportunity? Yes: see, I have a lot of trouble approaching people to say "that thing I did many months ago? I'm sorry about that", not because of any issues with apologies, but more because I feel awkward -- I imagine that the other person is thinking "so why is she bringing this up now?". If I didn't spot and correct it at the time, I don't know how to go back later and fix it. Having a formalized time during the year helps with that, at least for other Jews. (Of course it doesn't really help with others.) As for the obligation, well, it's pretty easy to just keep putting things off; even with this time set aside I sometimes find myself doing that. If we didn't have the Yamim Nora'im (the days of awe, aka "high holy days" but that misses some important flavor), I'd probably never act. That would be bad. And looking around the room, I think my answer resonated with others too.

Tonight begins Rosh Hashana. L'shana tova to my Jewish friends, and happy Tuesday to everyone else. :-)

Wednesday I caught the beginnings of the crud that's been going around and started taking Sudafed aggressively to kill it before Yom Kippur, because fasting with a cold would suck. That didn't work, alas. Thursday night/Friday morning I noticed the first of two second-order effects: near as I can tell, the Sudafed -- whose job, after all, is to "make the emissions less bad" -- was having a dehydrating effect. So I stopped that before it could do more damage. The other effect was that the cold was sapping my appetite, when I should have had a large lunch and good-sized dinner on Friday.

It actually wasn't as bad as I had feared. I did make one concession: on Friday I bought a bottle of "throat spray" to deal with the soreness (or at least numb it away), and I took that to shul with me. I reasoned that while this might technically be in the same category as applying lotions, it's not food or drink and it's medicinal, so it was ok. (You spit it out after gargling with it. I would have taken pills if I'd had anything that I knew to work and be non-dehydrating. I wasn't going to experiment.) Beyond that, I took tissues, tried for aisle seats in case I had to run out, and did my best to minimize contact with other people.

Friday at Kol Nidre I was sweating like mad. I know that our HVAC has unintended climate zones and I was sitting on a supplementary chair in a place in the sanctuary not normally used for seating, so I figured I was just in a bad place. It happened again this morning (in a regular sanctuary seat not known to be bad for heat), and only then did it occur to me that perhaps I had a fever. Well, either the fever broke or the AC kicked in at the beginning of the torah service, and I was fine after that. The sniffling was not bad for the rest of the day and my voice is getting less froggy-sounding. Let's hope I've seen the worst of this.

As for the fast, I found that by about hour 19 I had stopped caring. I expected to be desperate for water by then because of the cold (and wouldn't have been too surprised if my rabbi had ordered me to the drinking fountain). But it wasn't an issue. Yay.

(The Yom Kippur stuff will probably come in dribs and drabs this year. Lots of stuff is still swirling around in my head.)

From the morning service:

For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones; but for transgressions of one human being against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with one another.
I hereby forgive all who have hurt me, all who have wronged me, whether deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account.
As I forgive and pardon those who have wronged me, may those whom I have wronged forgive and pardon me, whether whether I acted deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed.

The first time I was faced with those words I argued with them. Write a blank check? Are you kidding? It wasn't that I had a particular grievance in mind; it's just that it felt wrong somehow. After all, we're told that we have to ask forgiveness and make amends; just feeling sorry doesn't cut it.

The next time I reasoned that there was a quid pro quo involved, and I wanted to say "I forgive and pardon anyone else who is making this declaration today". I don't now remember if that's what I actually said. I know that for a while I've been mentally inserting "those Jews" rather than just anyone, because while not all Jews keep Yom Kippur, it seemed a reasonable compromise.

This year I was able to say it as written. I was able to realize that yeah, there are people who've wronged me who will never apologize (perhaps because they don't even realize it), and I've surely done such things to other people, and it's just not important enough to hang onto. For wrongs that are known and more serious, well, there's a difference between forgiveness and forgetfulness -- I might not rely on certain people in the future, but I don't have to carry the weight of their misdeeds around on a mental scorecard either. I can inform my future behavior without holding out on forgiveness.

This would be much harder, perhaps impossible, if there were a major outstanding wrong against me. I am blessed to not have suffered the kinds of wrongdoing (abuse, major betrayal, etc) that some people have. The small stuff just isn't worth getting worked up about.

As I said, it wasn't so much that I had specific grievances I wanted to hold onto; it was more that I had trouble making the blanket statement. I don't know what's changed, but I don't seem to have that trouble now. I'm happy about this.

I'm glad I'm a Jew -- the annual introspection and sanity check is helpful. And, quite demonstrably, when it wasn't required of me I didn't do it. (Maybe others are more dilligent in such things.) In all seriousness, I would recommend something like the high holy days to my thoughtful gentile friends.

Today in our talmud study my rabbi and I reached the passage in B'rachot (16b) that records the concluding prayers of several sages. The t'filah, the central prayer, has a fixed text, but there is a place to insert personal words at the end. (Over time, some of these have in turn become fixed.) On this day before Yom Kippur, let me share some of these prayers that struck me most strongly.

( Read more... )

( first day )

( second day )

( calendar questions )

( a little reading )

Finally, a small comment about music. During the high holy days (every day, not just Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), there are some different musical motifs (nusach) that show up in the service. (Also text changes.) I find that these changes do something to reach deep inside me and emphasize the themes of the season. I'm not sure why that works for me, since it's a learned association and not something that goes all the way back to childhood, but it does work.

Tomorrow night begins Rosh Hashana. Happy new year, and may 5768 bring joy and happiness to everyone reading this.

I'm participating in services both Thursday and Friday mornings, doing the haftarah blessings the first day and reading torah the second. Our second-day service (new last year) is small and intimate, a nice contrast to the grandness of the previous day. I appreciate having both: the majesty of the divine king (and the birthday of the world), and the nearness of the still small voice that's there if we listen.

Monica

daf bit: Yoma

something new for Yom Kippur

the challenge of self-improvement

a brief shofar thought

happy new year

thoughts on the "al cheit" prayer

Rosh Hashana

Rosh Hashana

high holy days

halacha geeking

Yom Kippur wrap-up

Yom Kippur

Rosh Hashana in bullet points

musings on erev Rosh Hashana

Rosh Hashana

a man with one watch knows what time it is

Yom Kippur theology

Yom Kippur

Rosh Hashana

l'shana tova

fasting while sick

Vidui

timely study

Rosh Hashana

Shana tova

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