We have arrived at Yom Kippur, a day in sacred time, set apart from all the other days of the year. We have gathered together in a place, which for twenty-five hours is set apart from all the other places we inhabit in our daily lives: our homes, workplaces, schools, universities, shops, streets and parks. Of course, for most of us here, it is a familiar place, the congregation’s home. But today, even this familiar place in which the community gathers each Shabbat, becomes another place, etched in Eternity. The Talmudic tractate dedicated to Yom Kippur is called Yoma, the Aramaic word for ‘the day’. Yoma: the singular day out of time and space.

We have gathered here, not simply to be here, but to do something; to complete the journey we began on Rosh Ha-Shanah, the journey of t’shuvah, of ‘return’; to ourselves, to others, to the ultimate ‘other’, the Eternal One. Yom Kippur is the final destination of our journey, marked by five staging posts in the form of five services: Erev, ‘evening’, known by the first words of the passage that marks the service out: Kol Nidrei; Shacharit, ‘morning’; Musaf, ‘additional’; Minchah, afternoon; and N’ilah, ‘closing’. As we move from stage to stage, we also pause to remember those who are no longer with us. In progressive congregations, Yizkor, the memorial service is held just prior to N’ilah. In orthodox congregation, Yizkor is observed at the end of the morning.

These staging posts help us to navigate through the day as we engage in the task of Yoma, the task of making confession for our wrongs and misdeeds, and seeking forgiveness.

‘Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement’, s’lach lanu, m’chal lanu, kappeir lanu. The words of this liturgical refrain punctuate the day. A refrain that takes the form of a plea. Significantly, although the focus is on the individual, the plea is couched in the first-person plural. This is also the case in all the passages of confession we will repeat today. The catalogue of sins arranged alphabetically and known by its first word, Ashamnu, begins: Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu, ‘We have offended, we have dealt treacherously, we have robbed’.[1] We will be studying this alphabetical text during the break between the additional and afternoon services. Similarly, the refrain that precedes each confession in another liturgical arrangement is also in the first-person plural. It begins: Al cheit shechatanu l’fanekha, ‘For the sin we have committed before You.’[2] Actually, the word ‘sin’ does not really capture the Hebrew. Strictly speaking, cheit, the word that gets translated as ‘sin’ expresses the kind of error we commit when we miss our way.[3] But that doesn’t mean that the errors we commit are not grievous. The text of the Al Cheit makes it clear that, even the ordinary errors we make that we may feel inclined to excuse in ourselves, are serious and require our repentance.

Today we stand together and make confession together, even though the responsibility to go on this journey devolves on each one of us. So, why do we make our confession in the first-person plural? Why this communal act of solidarity, which in practice involves individuals confessing to misdeeds that we may not have personally committed? There are at least three reasons for confessing our sins in the first-person plural. First, amongst the congregation, there may be individuals who have committed those misdeeds. Second, confessing to wrongs we haven’t committed as individuals is an acknowledgement that we could have committed them. Third, as each one of us makes our confession, we do so, not simply because we are Jews and that’s what Jews do on Yom Kippur. The ‘we’ on this sacred day out of time and space embraces humanity, and so we confess to misdeeds that encompass the wrongs that humans are capable of committing. Although each one of us is on our own personal journey, confession in the first-person plural expresses our shared predicament as frail human beings who go astray.

S’lach lanu, m’chal lanu, kappeir lanu. ‘Forgive us, pardon us, and grant us atonement’. There are several poignant melodies for this phrase that is traditionally inserted between each three-line verse of the Al Cheit. Each melody is designed to move us and open up our hearts. But what does the threefold refrain imply? Human beings need forgiveness. Each one of us needs to feel forgiven so that we can let go of the past and move on. But Jewish teaching makes it clear that the we can only be forgiven if we repent, and do what we can to make amends. We are also challenged to forgive others. In fact, if we fail to forgive someone who has sought our forgiveness three times, we are the ones in the wrong (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot T’shuvah, 2.9).

But forgiveness on Yom Kippur takes on a deeper resonance. Having engaged in the process of t’shuvah, and having done what we can to repent and seek forgiveness from those we have harmed, each one of us is seeking forgiveness from the Eternal One. More than forgiveness, we are seeking pardon. The Hebrew, m’chal lanu, ‘pardon us’, expresses a blotting out or wiping out; an annulment.[4] But how can we be seeking an annulment, in other words, a cancellation of our misconduct? Because, ultimately, Yom Kippur represents the drawing of a line under all that has gone before, so that each one of us can start the New Year afresh. The Hebrew, kappeir lanu, ‘grant us atonement’, literally, means ‘cover us’. We read in the Torah that the Ark was covered with a kapporet, a ‘covering’ of gold.[5] The goal of Yom Kippur is a covering over of our misdeeds of the past year. They do not disappear, or evaporate, they are not conjured away by the rituals of Yom Kippur; they are covered over.

But what does this mean in practice? As we go on our journeys today and engage in our personal search for forgiveness, pardon and atonement, this unique day carries the hope of a new beginning. But this hope begs many questions: How do I make a new beginning? What should I do with the covered-over wrongs committed during the past year? Store them away? Bury them? How do I go about accepting that they are covered over, and move on? The clue to working out answers to these questions lies not only in the root meaning of kippur, as ‘covering’, but also in the process of the yamim nora’im, ‘awed days’. The covering over of the deeds of the past year depends on what what we do before the gates close[6] on Yom Kippur; on our heartfelt desire for pardon and forgiveness. This in turn, involves fidelity to the demands of t’shuvah, return. The ten days of reflection which began on Rosh Ha-Shanah will have done their work if at the end of Yom Kippur we can say: I will find a way of moving forward because I have addressed my mistakes and misdeeds of the year that has passed.

Decoding the language and purpose of the yamim nora’im, literally the ‘awed days’, is not the same thing as really taking to heart what it means to take responsibility for our misdeeds – and also, more generally, for what we do, and what we fail to do. Saying ‘we’, and really meaning ‘we’, means, for example, that in the face of the violence and persecution we witness every day on our TV screens and devices, we cannot distance ourselves from the perpetrators by demonising them and regarding them as inherently evil and entirely different from us. On the contrary, we are challenged to acknowledge that even those who commit the most heinous atrocities are human beings, like us. The Torah portion we will read tomorrow morning from Deuteronomy chapter 30, includes a powerful challenge that reminds us that each one of us has the potential to act for evil or for good. We read (30:15;19):

See! I have set before you today, life and good, and death and evil … I call Heaven and Earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you, life and death, the blessing and the curse, therefore, you shall choose life – u’vacharta ba-chayyim – so that you may live, you and your descendants.

Today. Every day – and in particular, this particular today, when we have the time and the space to reflect on our lives, and make a conscious choice to choose life and good, rather than death and evil. This also involves choosing compassion and justice, rather than hatred and persecution, the ways of peace, rather than violence and destruction.

And our responsibility doesn’t end there. Immediately before the verses I have quoted from the portion that we will read in the morning, we are presented with another challenge (30:11-14):

For this commandment, which I command you today is not too complex for you, nor too remote. / It is not in heaven that you need to say: ‘Who will go up to heaven for us, and fetch it for us, that we may hear it and do it?’ / Neither is it across the sea that you need to say: ‘Who will cross the sea for us and fetch it for us, that we may hear it and do it?’ For the matter is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart to do it – ki karov eilecha ha-davart m’od; b’ficha u’vilvav’cha la’asoto.

‘For the matter is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart to do it’. You can’t get much nearer than ‘in your mouth and in your heart’. But being in our mouths and in our hearts is not the end of ‘the matter’. The point is to act. In August, we witnessed people in towns and cities across the UK, including here in Leicester,[7] taking out their frustration about economic hardship and the housing crisis on migrants and refugees and their Muslim neighbours. In some instances, angry mobs attacked mosques and hotels housing migrants and refugees. In response, ordinary people came together to protect those under attack. For example, ‘Together’, an interfaith coalition supported by Hope Not Hate, organised a solidarity event outside Southport Mosque. Rabbi Robyn Ashworth-Steen represented Progressive Judaism at the gathering, standing alongside more than a dozen Imams, and also spoke to a BBC reporter about the imperative of spreading ‘a message of love and connection’ in the face of hatred and division.[8] Rabbi Robyn, together with Rabbi Warren Elf, also took part in a solidarity visit to the Khizra Mosque in Manchester.[9]

If we don’t act, we risk standing by while those who choose hatred, visit their bigotry on some of the most vulnerable in our midst. Of course, acting carries its risks, too. But what is the alternative? Stasis? The choice remains before us. Let us find our courage in the much-quoted wisdom of Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav: Kol ha-olam, kullo, gesher tzar m’od, v’ha-ikar lo l’phacheid k’llal – ‘All the world, all of it, is a very narrow bridge, but the essential thing is never to be afraid’.[10] On this sacred day, set apart from all other days of the Jewish year, we are challenged to take steps into the unknown future. May we support one another as we begin our journey.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Leicester Progressive Jewish Congregation

Erev Yom Kippur 5785

11th October 2024 / 10th Tishri 5785

  1. See: Machzor Ruach Chadashah, p. 197. ↑

  2. See: Machzor Ruach Chadashah, pp. 198-200. ↑

  3. There are many words for ‘sin’ in the vocabulary of Yom Kippur. See: Machzor Ruach Chadashah, p. 164, for ‘A Vocabulary of Sin’ based on A Guide to Yom Kippur by Rabbi Dr Louis Jacobs, London: Jewish Chronicle Publications, 1957, pp.75ff. ↑

  4. The Biblical Hebrew root is Mem Chet Hei. In Rabbinic Hebrew: Mem Chet Lamed. ↑

  5. The kapporet that covered the Ark was a slab of gold, 2.5 cubits by 1.5 cubits. See: Exodus 25.17-22 ↑

  6. The liturgy for Yom Kippur is arranged into five services, plus Yizkor, a Memorial Service: Evening [Erev], known by its opening passage, Kol Nidrei; Morning [Shacharit]; Additional [Musaf]; Afternoon [Minchah]; and Closing [N’ilah]. Of these services, only N’ilah is exclusive to Yom Kippur. The central imagery of the ‘Closing’ service is of gates closing, conveying a sense of urgency that the congregation’s pleas for forgiveness and pardon will be accepted. This is expressed liturgically – and here is the literal translation: ‘Open for us a gate, at the time of the closing of the gate, for day has turned [ki phanah yom], the day is turning [ha-yom yiphneh], the sun is setting, let us enter Your gates’. The root for ‘turn’ in this passage is Pei Nun Hei. See Machzor Ru’ach Chadashah, p. 424, for a more poetic rendering of the Hebrew. ↑

  7. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c72441k4xlqo ↑

  8. https://www.liberaljudaism.org/2024/08/faith-leaders-stand-together-against-extremism/ ↑

  9. https://www.jewishnews.co.uk/jewish-communities-offer-solidarity-to-muslim-counterparts/ ↑

  10. https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/494107?lang=bi ↑