Yom Kippur Quotes

On Yom Kippur, it is not enough for one to feel sorry for the foul deeds one has done. To achieve forgiveness, one must go to the injured parties and make amends.

I don't know what I believe. I guess that makes me a Christmas tree agnostic." He smiles. "I like it and you're a Yom Kippur atheist.

We cannot do things differently, we cannot carve out different ways of relating to others, until we can take responsibility for what we have done and those we have injured in the process.

God exacted interest like a loanshark, you paid and kept paying and still He broke all yr bones, one Yom Kippur, at the beginning of her 30th year, God had written her name once again in the book of loss, Bertha Schneider, let her lose everything, God had written in that pedestrian prose of His. rub it in, pile it on, and let her eat cake, the kind wrapped in plastic, God had scratched in the margin.

In Yom Kippur, the status of being unclean fades before the divine presence. Yet if one cannot distinguish between God and Satan, if one calls evil good, if one’s religion places limits on the love of God, if one claims that being God’s chosen means that all others are God’s rejected, then there can be no atonement, and Yom Kippur is a failure.

Mother’s Day has evolved into a Yom Kippur for guilty children everywhere. Taking Mom out to brunch used to be an appreciative gesture. Now it’s a guilt-expiation liturgy.

As far as Robert was concerned, the Book of Life was closed on him a year ago, on Yom Kippur. The next day he dropped out of the race – the political race, the rat race, and in many ways the human race.

One year, on Yom Kippur eve, Salanter did not show up in synagogue for services. The congregation was extremely worried; they could only imagine that their rabbi had suddenly taken sick or been in an accident. In any case, they would not start the service without him. During the wait, a young woman in the congregation became agitated. She had left her infant child at home asleep in its crib; she was certain she would only be away a short while. Now, because of the delay, she slipped out to make sure that the infant was all right. When she reached her house, she found her child being rocked in the arms of Rabbi Salanter. He had heard the baby crying while walking to the synagogue and, realizing that the mother must have gone off to services, had gone into the house to calm him.

Reaping what you sow is very different, and yet, it is the only thing that can be counted on ... that careful application of self to tasks, continuing to learn from the world and digging deep to learn more about the self, the investment of self in ways of being and doing, bringing about deep and fundamental accomplishments and changes.

For white Americans (whiteness itself a societal construct that has changed in it definition over time), this new national holiday of Juneteenth, this day off from work, should be like an American Yom Kippur, a Day of Atonement, a day of reflection, a day to keep learning more about how we have failed as a society to live up to our ideals, and what we as individuals can do to make it better, more real, closer to our vision of justice and liberty, a vision that our founding forefathers could not even imagine. 'Do better' should be what all who carry any kind of privilege in this society should say to ourselves and to each other - what can we do, what can you do, to 'do better'?

In the Judaeo-Christian tradition all this is well known, and incorporated into the sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church as well as the rituals and liturgy of Yom Kippur.

I don't know what I believe. I guess that makes me a Christmas Tree Agnostic.' He smiles. 'I like it.' 'And you're a Yom Kippur Atheist.' 'I am.

People can’t function without forgiveness. It’s why the Catholics have confession and the Jews have Yom Kippur. You recognize your failings, and you move on.

Yom Kippur. For Jews this is the day when we ask forgiveness for our sins, the holiest day of our calendar.

But how could Yoel, of all people, not realize that Gush Emunim, with its vision of unrestrained power and occupation, was repeating the very sin of arrogance that had led to Yom Kippur?

YOM KIPPUR. The Day of Atonement. Should we fast? The question was hotly debated. To fast could mean a more certain, more rapid death. In this place, we were always fasting. It was Yom Kippur year-round. But there were those who said we should fast, precisely because it was dangerous to do so. We needed to show God that even here, locked in hell, we were capable of singing His praises. I

A friend of mine tells a story about some Israeli students who were called up in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. As soon as they were notified, they went back to their rooms at University, and each packed his gear, a rifle, and a book of Yehuda Amichai’s poems.

Life is precious; we must not defer to tomorrow the love we can give or receive today. All the love that has been given to you is yours, yours to keep, yours to grow, yours to share fully with others, so that it lives forever. Energy does not die in this universe. Neither does love.

This is a critical year--maybe the last critical year if we get this wrong--when we are all challenged to recognize how we have benefitted and continue to benefit from unearned privilege (as well as how we have been denied and disrespected, even in ways that we have perceived as privilege, or as our right). We all must be willing to look, to acknowledge, to own the complex reality which is our history, our country, our lives. It is not enough to go to a house of prayer and ask God for forgiveness. It is not enough that we forgive each other, not enough to forgive ourselves. We must extend effort to repair damage in which we have participated and/or from which we have received benefit... We must do differently moving forward.

Our town, Kasrilevke - that's where I'm from, you know - is a small town, and a poor one. There is no thievery there. No one steals anything for the simple reason that there is nobody to steal from and nothing worth stealing. And besides, a Jew is not a thief by nature. That is, he may be a thief, but not the sort who will climb through a window or attack you with a knife. He will divert, pervert, subvert, and contravert as a matter of course, but he won't pull anything out of your pocket. He won't be caught like a common thief and led through the streets with a yellow placard on his back. ("A Yom Kippur Scandal")

I could see Mount Sodom beyond the distant shores, where the goat had been chosen as a sacrifice to redeem the wicked tribe.

One thing I know from personal experience: nothing in my relationship with Walt Disney or his brother was influenced either positively or negatively because I'm Jewish... Walt had called one day when I was attending services at our synagogue during the Jewish High Holy Days, Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur. When Tommie told Walt where I was, she let me know his reaction: "That's where he should be, with his family.

Three modern rabbis are arguing about which of the three is the most progressive. “I am definitely the most progressive,” says the first rabbi. “We allow smoking during services.” “That’s nothing,” replies the second rabbi. “We serve pork spareribs during Yom Kippur.” “Not bad,” replies the third rabbi. “But I have you all beat. During Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we post signs at my temple—closed for the holidays.

Inexplicably, Newton’s prediction lines up with the end of the biblical Shemitah in September 2015 and the beginning of the “Super-Shemitah” on September 23, 2015—Yom Kippur. If one takes the Newton’s riddle calculation—beginning June 7, 1967, with the restoration of Jerusalem—and adds seven, seven-year Shemitah cycles in biblical or prophetic years of 360 days, the date comes out to September 23, 2015—the beginning of the “Super-Shemitah” of 2015–16.

despair threatened to overwhelm a young Israeli soldier who had lost both his legs in the Yom Kippur War. He was drowning in depression and contemplating suicide. One day a friend noticed that his outlook had changed to hopeful serenity. The soldier attributed his transformation to reading Man’s Search for Meaning. When he was told about the soldier, Frankl wondered whether “there may be such a thing as autobibliotherapy—healing through reading.” Frankl’s

In October, she barged in while I was watching Working Girl. “This again?” she huffed and threw herself down in the armchair. “I’m fasting for Yom Kippur,” she sighed boastfully. This was not unusual. She’d been on some truly insane diets in the past. A gallon of salt water a day. Only prune juice and baking soda. “I can have as much sugar-free Jell-O as I want before eleven A.M.” Or “I’m fasting,” she’d say. “I’m fasting on weekends.” “I’m fasting every other weekday.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it for so many years of Bible reading, but I didn’t.  Paul didn’t teach the Gentiles not to follow the law, he didn’t teach people not to have their sons circumcised (in fact he himself had Timothy circumcised in Acts 16:3).  And Paul himself kept the law.  Otherwise, James would have been telling Paul to lie about what he was doing.   So we traded Christmas for Sukkot, the true birth of Messiah during the Feast of Tabernacles, which is a shadow picture of Him coming back to reign for a thousand years.  When we keep that feast, we are making a declaration that we believe He was, is, and is coming.  We keep Yom Kippur, which is a declaration that we believe that Yeshua is the salvation of the nation of Israel as a whole, that “all Israel shall be saved.”  We keep Yom Teruah, the day of Trumpets, which occurs on “the day and hour that no man knows” at the sighting of the first sliver of the new moon during the 7th biblical month of Tishri.  We traded Pentecost for Shavuot, the prophetic shadow picture of the spirit being poured out on the assembly, as we see in the book of Acts,  just as the law was given at Mt Sinai to the assembly, which according to Stephen was the true birth of the church (Acts 7:38) – not in Jerusalem, but at Sinai. We also traded Easter for Passover, the shadow picture of Messiah coming to die to restore us to right standing with God, in order to obey Him when He said, “from now on, do this in remembrance of Me.”  We traded Resurrection Sunday for First Fruits, the feast which served as a shadow of Messiah rising up out of the earth and ascending to be presented as a holy offering to the Father.  In Leviticus 23, these are called the Feasts of the LORD, and were to be celebrated by His people Israel forever, not just the Jews, but all those who are in covenant with Him. Just like at Mt Sinai, the descendants of Jacob plus the mixed multitude who came out of Egypt.    We learned from I John 3:4 that sin is defined as transgression of the law.  I John 1:10 says that if we claim we do not sin we are liars, so sin still exists, and that was written long after the death of the other apostles, including Paul.  I read what Peter said about Paul in 2 Peter 3:15-16 – that his writings were hard to understand and easily twisted.  And I began to see that Peter was right because the more I understood what everyone besides Paul was saying, the more I realized that the only way I could justify what I had been doing was with Paul’s writings.  I couldn’t use Yeshua (Jesus), Moses, John, Peter or any of the others to back up any of the doctrines I was taught – I had to ignore Yeshua almost entirely, or take Him out of context.  I decided that Yeshua, and not Paul, died for me, so I had to

It was on the eve of Yom Kippur, the holiest of holy days, that a fly flew under the door of the synagogue and began to pester the hanging congregants. It flew from face to face, buzzing, landing on long noses, going in and out of hairy ears. AND IF THIS IS A TEST, the Venerable Rabbi enlightened, trying to keep his congregation together, SHOULD WE NOT RISE TO ITS CHALLENGE? AND I URGE YOU: CRASH TO THE GROUND BEFORE YOU RELEASE THE GREAT BOOK! But how pestering that fly was, tickling some of the most ticklish places. AND AS GOD ASKED ABRAHAM TO SHOW ISAAC THE KNIFE’S POINT, SO IS HE ASKING US NOT TO SCRATCH OUR ASSES! AND IF WE MUST, BY ALL MEANS WITH THE LEFT HAND!

Todo ano, no dia 22 de agosto — o dia em que, em 1927, o estado de Massachusetts executou os dois anarquistas, os quais, segundo seus pais ensinaram a ela e a seus irmãos, não haviam cometido assassinato algum —, a loja era fechada e a família se recolhia no sobrado (um apartamento apertado e escuro, cuja desordem enlouquecida era maior ainda que a da loja) para observar um dia de jejum. Era um ritual que o pai de Iris, como se fosse líder de uma seita, havia inventado sozinho, inspirando-se no Yom Kippur judaico. Seu pai não tinha ideias de verdade a respeito do que ele julgava serem ideias — nas profundezas de sua mente só havia uma ignorância absoluta e o desespero amargo dos miseráveis, um ódio revolucionário impotente.

-You give her a three, he said... -That three was entirely fitting, I said. It was complete garbage. Not the kind of thing I expect the students to hand in... In addition to the Second World War, I also deal with a large part of the history that came afterwards,’ I interrupted again. Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, the Middle East and Israel, the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War, the Palestinians. I deal with all of that during my classes. So then you can’t expect to turn in a paper about the state of Israel in which people mostly pick oranges and dance in sandals around a campfire. Cheerful, happy people everywhere, and all that horseshit about the desert where flowers blossom again. I mean, people are shot and killed there every day, buses are blown up. What’s this all about? -She came in here crying, Paul. -I’d cry too if I turned in garbage like that.

This image, this series of fasts, tells our bodies and our souls the story of the encroachment of emptiness: the story of impermanence. There was a Great Temple, a great nation with its capital in Jerusalem, but even such seemingly unshakable institutions as these simply slipped away into the mists of history. Yet even while it stood, the Great Temple was a structure that was centered around emptiness. The Holy of Holies, the Sacred Center upon which all the elaborate structural elegance of the Temple served to focus, was primarily a vacated space. It was defined that way in the Torah. The Holy of Holies was the space no one could enter except the high priest, and even he could only enter for a few moments on Yom Kippur. If anyone else entered this place, or if the high priest entered on any other day, the charged emptiness at the Sacred Center, the powerful nothingness there, would break out on him and overwhelm him, and he would die. So Yom Kippur is, among other things, the day we enter the vacated space, even if only by proxy, the day we experience the charged emptiness at the Sacred Center.

I soon had an occasion to apply what I had learned from Feller. The Yom Kippur War broke out in 1973, and my only significant contribution to the war effort was to advise high officers in the Israeli Air Force to stop an investigation. The air war initially went quite badly for Israel, because of the unexpectedly good performance of Egyptian ground-to-air missiles. Losses were high, and they appeared to be unevenly distributed. I was told of two squadrons flying from the same base, one of which had lost four planes while the other had lost none. An inquiry was initiated in the hope of learning what it was that the unfortunate squadron was doing wrong. There was no prior reason to believe that one of the squadrons was more effective than the other, and no operational differences were found, but of course the lives of the pilots differed in many random ways, including, as I recall, how often they went home between missions and something about the conduct of debriefings. My advice was that the command should accept that the different outcomes were due to blind luck, and that the interviewing of the pilots should stop. I reasoned that luck was the most likely answer, that a random search for a nonobvious cause was hopeless, and that in the meantime the pilots in the squadron that had sustained losses did not need the extra burden of being made to feel that they and their dead friends were at fault.

I had to pull columnist George Will out of a baseball game—like yanking Hemingway out of a bar—to correct one misattributed quote, and berate blogger Josh Rogin for recording a public talk between Jeffrey Goldberg and me in a synagogue, on Yom Kippur. Most miffing was the book This Town, a pillorying of well-connected Washingtonians by The New York Times’s Mark Leibovich. The only thing worse than being mentioned in Mark’s bestselling book was not being mentioned in it. I merited much of a paragraph relating how, at the Christmas party of media grandees Ben Bradlee and Sally Quinn, I “hovered dangerously over the buffet table, eyeing a massive Christmas ham.” But Nathan Guttman, a reporter for The Jewish Daily Forward, changed the word “eyeing” to “reaching for,” insinuating that I ate the ham. Ironically, the embassy employed Nathan’s caterer wife to cook gala kosher dinners. George Will graciously corrected the quote and Josh Rogin apologized. The Jewish Daily Forward printed a full retraction. Yet, in the new media age, old stories never vanish. A day after the Forward’s faux pas, I received several angry phone calls from around the United States. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” they remonstrated. “The Israeli ambassador eating trief? In public? On Christmas?” I tried to defend myself—“I didn’t eat it, I eyed it”—but fruitlessly. Those calls reminded me that, more complex than many of the issues I faced in the press, and often more explosive, was the minefield of American Jewry.

Everything’s awful,” said Jessie, picking at a corner of her bedroom wallpaper that was peeling. She explained to her grandmother about the trial yesterday and the basketball game and Scott kicking the ball into the swamp. She told her how Evan had to hunt for the ball for half an hour before finally finding it, and how he told all his friends to just go home, he’d find it himself, just go home. So they did. And how Evan and Jessie were left to look for the ball, and how Evan didn’t talk the whole time they did. “And today he’s not even eating, or anything,” said Jessie. “Did you know that it’s Yom Kippur?” “Yom Kippur, is that the one where the kids dress up?” asked Jessie’s grandmother. “No, that’s Purim.” Grandma was always mixing up things like that, things that sounded kind of the same, but were different. During their last phone call, she was talking with Jessie about the sequoia trees in California, but she kept using the word sequester instead. “Yom Kippur is the day when the Jewish people ask for forgiveness and they don’t eat.” “Is Evan Jewish now?” asked Grandma. “No, but he’s not eating. He says he’s not hungry,” said Jessie. “Sometimes that happens to me,” Grandma said. “I practically forget to eat.” “But Evan’s always hungry,” said Jessie. “Mom says he’s a bottomless pit.” “He’ll eat when he’s ready,” said Grandma. “Let it go.” Jessie hated it when her grandmother said that. She was always telling Jessie to let it go and be the tree. Crazy yoga grandma. How could anyone be a tree? “But

Quanta. On Yom Kippur Eve, the quanta went to ask Einstein for his forgiveness. “I'm not home,” Einstein yelled at them from behind his locked door. On their way back, people swore loudly at them through the windows, and someone even threw a can. The quanta pretended not to care, but deep in their hearts they were really hurt. Nobody understands the quanta, everybody hates them. “You parasites,” people would shout at them as they walked down the road. “Go serve in the army.” “We wanted to, actually,” the quanta would try to explain, “but the army wouldn't take us because we're so tiny.” Not that anyone listened. Nobody listens to the quanta when they try to defend themselves, but when they say something that can be interpreted negatively, well, then everyone's all ears. The quanta can make the most innocent statement, like “Look, there's a cat!” and right away they're saying on the news how the quanta were stirring up trouble and they rush off to interview Schrödinger. All in all, the media hated the quanta worse than anybody, because once the quanta had spoken at an IBM press conference about how the very act of viewing had an effect on an event, and all the journalists thought the quanta were lobbying to keep them from covering the Intifada. The quanta could insist as much as they wanted that this wasn't at all what they meant and that they had no political agenda whatsoever, but nobody would believe them anyway. Everyone knew they were friends of the government's Chief Scientist. Loads of people think the quanta are indifferent, that they have no feelings, but it simply isn't true. On Friday, after the program about the bombing of Hiroshima, they were interviewed in the studio in Jerusalem. They could barely talk. They just sat there facing the open mike and sniffling, and all the viewers at home, who didn't know the quanta very well, thought they were avoiding the question and didn't realize the quanta were crying What's sad is that even if the quanta were to write dozens of letters to the editors of all the scientific journals in the world and prove beyond a doubt that people had taken advantage of their naiveté, and that they'd never ever imagined it would end that way, it wouldn't do them any good, because nobody understands the quanta. The physicists least of all.

Monday, September 17, 1945 We all drove to the airfield in the morning to see Gay and Murnane off in the C-47 /belonging to the Army. Then General Eisenhower and I drove to Munich where we inspected in conjunction with Colonel Dalferes a Baltic displaced persons camp. The Baltic people are the best of the displaced persons and the camp was extremely clean in all respects. Many of the people were in costume and did some folk dances and athletic contest for our benefit. We were both, I think, very much pleased with conditions here. The camp was situated in an old German regular army barracks and they were using German field kitchens for cooking. From the Baltic camp, we drove for about 45 minutes to a Jewish camp in the area of the XX Corps. This camp was established in what had been a German hospital. The buildings were therefore in a good state of repair when the Jews arrived but were in a bad state of repair when we arrived, because these Jewish DP's, or at least a majority of them, have no sense of human relationships. They decline, when practicable, to use latrines, preferring to relive themselves on the floor. The hospital which we investigated was fairly good. They also had a number of sewing machines and cobbler instruments which they had collected, but since they had not collected the necessary parts, they had least fifty sewing machines they could not use, and which could not be used by anyone else because they were holding them. This happened to be the feast of Yom Kippur, so they were all collected in a large wooden building which they called a synagogue. It behooved General Eisenhower to make a speech to them. We entered the synagogue, which was packed with the greatest stinking bunch of humanity I have ever seen. When we got about half way up, the head rabbi, who was dressed in a fur hat similar to that worn by Henry VIII of England, and in a surplice heavily embroidered and very filthy, came down and met the General. A copy of Talmud, I think it is called, written on a sheet and rolled around a stick, was carried by one of the attending physicians. First, a Jewish civilian made a very long speech which nobody seemed inclined to translate. Then General Eisenhower mounted the platform and I went up behind him and he made a short and excellent speech, which was translated paragraph by paragraph. The smell was so terrible that I almost fainted, and actually about three hours later, lost my lunch as the result of remembering it. From here we went to the Headquarters of the XX Corps, where General Craig gave us an excellent lunch which I, however, was unable to partake of, owing to my nausea.

The Talmud distinguishes between huqqim (laws) and mishpatim (statutes). While the reasons for the mishpatim, such as “Do not murder,” are perfectly clear, the reasons behind huqqim—for example, not mixing wool and linen, or sending out the scapegoat on Yom Kippur—are opaque. The Talmud says about them, “I, God, decreed it and you do not have permission to question them” (BT Yoma, 67b).

Sometimes rebuffing him was a difficult, but this evening Margo whispered something about the prohibition on sex during the Yom Kippur holiday--as if they were a family of rabbis!--and he gave in and turned on his side. Rejected and repelled, he would fall into his nighttime sleep; in just a few moments she would hear that sound she hated, the heavy breathing that would rise to his nostrils and turn into a saw-like din, and Margo would wonder whether to shake him or let him be. If she awaken him, there was a chance he might start probing all over again; if she let him snore, he would disrupt her thinking, and she would not be able to give herself over to the brilliant idea she had come up with while staring in the mirror.

A Jew ain't only a religion, and it ain't a race. It isn't an ethnicity, and you aren't disqualified if you're good at spreading mayonnaise on white bread or bad at money or good at sports or bad at guilt. It ain't about whether your mother is Jewish or your father converted or both parents fasted on Yom Kippur. It don't matter if you were bar or bat mitzvahed, or if your grandma's recipe for chicken soup kicked Campbell's ass, or any of that. It ain't about a toe in Israel, or an opinion on Palestine, or an uncle who died of a heart attack in Brooklyn or Queens, or a family story from Ellis Island, or an aunt who was murdered by nazis or Russian pogromchiks, or whether or not three-fifths of your person is scared shitless of Auggie's "schvartzes," or at least the young bucks you see walking with guns out and half their pants down.

progeny’s

You could have picked Yom Kippur to come clean, but any day is a good day to repent.

But since my actions are not in accordance with my true goal, I am not accomplishing my life’s mission, and I am still not worthy. Things have changed; I am now needed. And yet I go on living as if nothing had changed and I were not needed.59 What we confess on Yom Kippur, says R. Kook, is not our lack of worth, but precisely the opposite: we take responsibility for the fact that we insist on living as if we were worthless, and as if the hour did not need us.

Like the nuns in Assisi, one of whom cooked a huge meal for hidden Jews to break the fast on Yom Kippur, the sisters had a respect for the religious beliefs of their wards. Only the mother superior allegedly knew they were Jewish, although others clearly did as well; as Goldenberg recalled, “it’s not logical that an Italian child between eight and ten doesn’t know any Catholic prayers.” The sons of the chief rabbi of Genoa were also hidden there, and the nun who put them to bed each night, Mother Marta Folcia, would tell them to secretly kiss her finger rather than the cross she held and then to say the Shema Yisrael quietly before falling asleep. When German soldiers inspected the boardinghouse every few months, looking for Jewish children, the boys carefully recited Catholic prayers such as the Ave Maria and Pater Noster that had been drilled into them several times a day at the convent. The mother superior stood behind the officer, mouthing the words, in case any of the children forgot in their panic.

You really can't go wrong with the food at any Jewish holiday. Well, with the exception of Passover, because matzah is terrible and eight days of no carbs but matzah and potatoes can have you crying for pizza by the end. But think bagels and lox to break the Yom Kippur fast. All sorts of exotic fruits on Tu B'Shevat. Brisket and tzimmes and noodle kugel for pretty much any occasion. And that's only the Ashkenazi food; I'd been treated to Sephardic and Mizrahi food occasionally at friends' houses growing up, and I remembered fish cooked in spicy tomato sauce, tangines with chickpeas and saffron, Yemenite braided bread with whole eggs hidden in the twists. But Hanukkah food? Because Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of the oil, it's basically a mitzvah to eat fried foods for the holiday. And doing a good deed by eating French fries or doughnuts is the absolute best way to do a good deed.

This is the exhortation of Yom Kippur and the Messiah Yeshua alike: deny yourself.

The theme of eating pig on Yom Kippur as a statement of Jewish transgression is one that we have encountered before and transcends this (OTD memoir) genre. It is a practice that simultaneously expresses rejection of Judaism while concomitantly reinforcing a Jewish identity. After all, eating pig on any other day just does not have the same heretical zing; yet, marking Yom Kippur as the holiest day of porcine transgression brings one closer to, rather than farther from, a Jewish identity.

The announcement of the verdicts was completed on October 1, 1946. Appropriately, this date fell on Yom Kippur, the climax of the High Holy Days in Judaism. This sacred Day of Atonement is the day to face up to one’s sins and their consequences. On this day, the tribunal would announce the consequences of the sins committed against humanity by the twenty-two Nazi defendants.

...only the high priest can enter the Holy of Holies, and on only one day a year, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when all sins of Israel are wiped clean. On this day, the high priest comes into presence of God to atone for the whole nation. If he is worthy of God's blessing, Israel's sins are forgiven. If he is not, a rope tied to his waist ensures that when God strikes him dead, he can be dragged out of the Holy of Holies without anyone else defiling the sanctuary.

The effort of religions to inspire a sense of community does not stop at introducing us to one other. Religions have also been clever at solving some of what goes wrong inside groups once they are formed. It has been the particular insight of Judaism to focus on anger: how easy it is to feel it, how hard it is to express it and how frightening and awkward it is to appease it in others. We can see this especially clearly in the Jewish Day of Atonement, one of the most psychologically effective mechanisms ever devised for the resolution of social conflict. Falling on the tenth day of Tishrei, shortly after the beginning of the Jewish new year, the Day of Atonement (or Yom Kippur) is a solemn and critical event in the Hebrew calendar. Leviticus instructs that on this date, Jews must set aside their usual domestic and commercial activities and mentally review their actions over the preceding year, identifying all those whom they have hurt or behaved unjustly towards. Together in synagogue, they must repeat in prayer: ‘We have sinned, we have acted treacherously, we have robbed, we have spoken slander. We have acted perversely, we have acted wickedly, we have acted presumptuously, we have been violent, we have framed lies.’ They must then seek out those whom they have frustrated, angered, discarded casually or otherwise betrayed and offer them their fullest contrition. This is God’s will, and a rare opportunity for blanket forgiveness. ‘All the people are in fault,’ says the evening prayer, and so ‘may all the people of Israel be forgiven, including all the strangers who live in their midst’.

The prophetic vision of the Temple was revealed to Ezekiel on Yom Kippur in the year 3352 (408 B.C.E.), a Jubilee Year.6 On Yom Kippur in the Jubilee Year, Jewish slaves are freed and land in Israel that had been sold during the previous forty-nine years, is returned to its original tribal ownership.

Where is God? I used to take some comfort from the image of cable cars in San Francisco. What enables those cable cars to move up and down the steep hills of San Francisco? There are powerful cables that run underneath these ups and downs. When the cable car wants to move, it latches on to the cable, which pulls it up or down the hills. If you look down into the opening that runs down the middle of all these streets, you will see that, underneath, the cable is always running. God is the force of life that runs through our lives, day in and day out—in the inexplicable force that gives a person the simple, heroic courage to open the door.

Tosefta Sotah 13:8 (8) The year in which Shimon the Righteous died [he said to them] "in this year I will die" "how do you know this?" they responded. He (Shimon the Righteous) responded: "all of the Yom Kippur days there was an old man dressed in all white who would go with me into the holy of holies and leave with me, on this year he went in with me but did not come out with me." Seven days passed after the holiday and he died. From the time of the death of Rebbi Shimon the Righteous they ceased blessing in the name of Hashem.

The Jubilee was a sort of mandatory rebalancing of the financial system. Once every fifty years it was to coincide with Yom Kippur, our Day of Atonement, the most solemn and holy day of our year.” Jacob shook his head. “But what could that have to do with Yeshua? And what is the connection between this Old Testament custom and the present?

The New Testament varies widely as well, with the Gospel writers understanding Jesus’ death as a Passover sacrifice and the author of Hebrews considering it a Yom Kippur sacrifice. Mixing those two is a bit like putting a Christmas tree up on Easter, which is basically what Paul does in his various letters.

In the seventh month, the fall biblical festivals of Yom Teruah (Trumpets), Yom Kippur (Atonement), and Sukkoth (Tabernacles) were celebrated. This was all pretty straightforward. Where the difficulty arose was in the changing of the years. The lunar calendar was based on a 29.53-day cycle, and the solar calendar was based upon a 365.24-day cycle. Twelve lunar months only equaled 354.36 days. This made the lunar “year” roughly eleven days short when compared to the solar year.

beginnings of their present sorrows to the day the Nazarene had been crucified by the Romans. There was a great darkness that day, and the temple curtain was rent in two. The rabbis had recorded that every day for forty years since then, the menorah had gone out, and the temple gates would be found open in the morning no matter the precautions taken. Each year on Yom Kippur the crimson thread no longer turned white, and when casting lots for the azazel scapegoat, the black stone always turned up. For forty years, only the black stone! It was impossible, but it had happened.

I had known Mubarak and his wife, Suzanne, for nearly twenty years. He was a career Air Force officer who had risen through the ranks to become Vice President under Anwar Sadat, the Egyptian ruler who fought the Yom Kippur War with Israel in 1973 and later signed the Camp David Accords. Mubarak was injured in the extremist attack that assassinated Sadat in 1981, but he survived, became President, and cracked down hard on Islamists and other dissidents. He ruled Egypt like a pharaoh with nearly absolute power for the next three decades.

The psychiatrist R. D. Laing, at one of the first conferences on Buddhism and psychotherapy that I attended, declared that we are all afraid of three things: other people, our own minds, and death. His statement was all the more powerful because it came shortly before his own death. If bare attention is to be of any real use, it must be applied in exactly these spheres. Physical illness usually provides us with such an opportunity. When my father-in-law, an observant Jew with little overt interest in Eastern philosophy, was facing radical surgery not so long ago, he sought my counsel because he knew of some work I was engaged in about stress reduction. He wanted to know how he could manage his thoughts while going into the surgery, and what he could do while lying awake at night? I taught him bare attention to a simple Jewish prayer; he was gradually able to expand the mental state that developed around the prayer to encompass his thoughts, anxieties, and fears. Even in the intensive care unit after surgery, when he could not tell day from night, move, swallow, or talk, he was able to use bare attention to rest in the moment, dissolving his fears in the meditative space of his own mind. Several years later, after attending Yom Kippur services, he showed me a particular passage in the prayer book that reminded him of what he had learned through his ordeal. A more Buddhist verse he could not have uncovered: A man’s origin is from dust and his destiny is back to dust, at risk of his life he earns his bread; he is likened to a broken shard, withering grass, a fading flower, a passing shade, a dissipating cloud, a blowing wind, flying dust, and a fleeting dream. The fearlessness of bare attention is necessary in the psychological venue as well, where the practice of psychotherapy has revealed just how ingenious and intransigent the ego’s defenses can be. Even when they are in therapy, people are afraid of discovering things about themselves that they do not wish to know.

Coming back to the quality of our lives during that year. The invasion of privacy became more and more oppressive, as the teachers were watching whether Jewish students were absent during Jewish holidays. I remember on Yom Kippur, in October, 1940, the teachers were especially paying attention to the attendance. Some zealous communists were even trying to find out whether anybody was fasting. That Yom Kippur was the first time I fasted, although I had to go to school. When I returned home, by 3 o'clock, my parents were in the synagogue. It was cold and rainy and I was shivering from cold, hunger and terrible disappointment with this cruel, petty regime that had no humane standards, no notion of freedom, no respect for human beings - a cruel, oppressive, invasive regime - where power was everything and human life was dirt cheap.

My invalid acquaintance knocked at the door of the "nachalnik", walked in with me and started yelling. His future father-in-law has pneumonia and he is entitled to get the round stamp on a prescription. I, the supposed fiancee stood by the whole scene. He got the stamp affixed, I received the drug within an hour for the sum of one ruble. On the black market it would have cost one hundred. Father recovered slowly. On Yom Kippur, he was still so weak that he consented to eat and drink. He said that it was proper, to save his life. Mother asked whether she should ask the rabbi, Father explained that he did know what was proper and saving one's life went before the fast.

A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Albert Einstein

Baseball is a religion of winning. We identify with a team, and when they win we feel a lift—we feel as if we have won. When they lose, we just don’t pay very close attention. Even fans of perennial losers (a religion in itself) or those rare and true fans who appreciate loss for the depth of feeling it provokes, and for the wellsprings of compassion and affection it opens, begin with a yearning to win. Otherwise there would be nothing to lose in the first place. Yom Kippur, on the other hand, is all about losing. Losing nobly, perhaps, but losing nevertheless. As our friends the Buddhists cheerfully remind us, suffering is inevitable in life. It is, in fact, life’s first noble truth.

What we built together has to be strong enough to withstand a storm

I am talking about the Month of Tishri (September through October on the Greco-Roman calendar). This season, known as the High Holy Days, includes Yom Teruah (Day of Trumpets), also known as Rosh HaShana (New Year), Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), and Sukkot (Tabernacles). As an adult, I really do see these days as the most wonderful time of the year. As a child though, Yom Teruah and Yom Kippur were the most dreaded days of the year. The services lasted all day and were as dry as sand. The only redeeming factors these two days held was that they were excused absences from school and on Yom Teruah one of the men would sound the shofar 100 times. The shofar always reminded me of the bugles sounding when the cavalry arrived to save the day.

Mohammed even adopted the Jewish traditions of praying in the direction of Jerusalem, of common Friday midday worship in preparation for the Sabbath day, and of fasting on the tenth day of each new year. In the latter case, the Jewish Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) provided the model for the Muslim fast of Ashura. The word Ashura is reminiscent of the Hebrew word asor–ten–and quite early on, Ashura was fixed on the tenth day of the Muslim calendar, following the Jewish example of observing Yom Kippur ten days after the Jewish New Year.9 Similarly, although Mohammed and his followers had prayed only twice a day in Mecca, they followed the Jewish example in Medina by introducing a third prayer at midday.10

Something as simple as an act of kindness, a compliment, a helping hand to a fellow human being, becomes a way of choosing life.

Memory is ours as long as we live. Every person is like a snowflake. Every person, like every snowflake is unique. Both people and snowflakes have intricate patterns which have never been replicated and never will. Yet both people and snowflakes melt away before our eyes. Each is frail. Each is, in its own way, something beautiful. Each is so very delicate and vulnerable. Each is precious beyond words.

Jesus chose Passover to do what had to be done. He did not choose the Day of Atonement. It is striking, indeed, that though the gospels, particularly John, mention many of the Jewish holy days, Yom Kippur is conspicuously absent. This relates to something my colleague David Moffitt has stressed in various places: when in the grip of exile – as many Jews believed they still were – what is required is not another regular sacrifice, but a fresh rescuing divine action. And the obvious model for that is not the Day of Atonement but the rescue from Egypt: Passover, in other words.

But my own style, I'd say, is more homestyle, with Jewish influences? Not kosher cooking; that's a different thing. I'm inspired by traditional Jewish cuisine." Paper rustled on the other end. "Right, the matzah ball ramen you cooked in your video looked fantastic. We were all drooling in the room!" I perked up. Forgot that I was naked. Forgot that lately I was a walking disaster. "That's one of my go-tos and will definitely be on my future menu. I've been experimenting lately with putting a spin on kugels..." As I chattered on, I could practically see my grandma shaking her head at me. Grandma Ruth had cooked up a storm for every Passover, Yom Kippur, and Chanukah, piling her table till it groaned with challah rolls, beef brisket in a ketchup-based sauce, and tomato and cucumber salad so fresh and herby and acidic it could make you feel like summer in the middle of winter.

For on Yom Kippur not only work is forbidden, as on the Sabbath, but there are five innuyim, or forms of self-discipline: the prohibitions of eating and drinking (counted as one), anointing with oils, sexual relations, washing (for pleasure), and wearing leather shoes.

Since a year encompasses a great deal of events, so do our services in the month of Elul. As we prepare for the redemption offered us by Yom Kippur, we focus on what I like to call the three T’s: Torah, tefilah, and tzedakah.

There is a story about Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite. One day his older brother died, and a newspaper got the story wrong and printed Alfred’s obituary instead. Alfred opened the paper that morning and had the unusual experience of reading his obituary while he was still alive. “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday,” the obituary began. Alfred threw down the paper. That’s not how I want to be remembered, he said. That’s not what’s important to me, he said, and right then and there he decided to throw his entire fortune into rewarding people for bettering this world and bringing it closer to peace. Yom Kippur is the day we all get to read our own obituary. It’s a dress rehearsal for our death. That’s why we wear a kittel, a shroudlike garment, on this day; why we refrain from life-affirming activities such as eating, drinking, and procreating. We are rehearsing the day of our death, because death, like Yom Kippur, atones.

If we listen to the Bible’s Story and pay attention to the emergence of fasting, we discover three major ideas: fasting is connected to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, as the Israelite prepared for confession, atonement, and forgiveness (Lev 16:29–31; 23:26–32). Fasting also includes a spontaneous response to a grievous event, as when David interceded and prayed for the healing of his enemies (Ps 35:11–16). In Isaiah 58 the prophet connects the true fast to doing justice, caring for the poor, and providing food for the hungry.

The capital P has no bearing on the PTSD of Israel. The dread of extinction is the white noise the people continuously try to ignore – continuously, because the dread of extinction is punctually refreshed. Following the Holocaust, within three years of the Holocaust, what starts to happen? Independence Day was proclaimed on May 15, 1948, and on May 16, 1948, five Arab armies launched what was avowedly a Vernichtungskrieg, a war of annihilation (its failure was the original Arab nakba – ‘catastrophe’). The same applied in June 1967 (the Six Day War) and in October 1973 (the Yom Kippur War)…In January 1991 the existential threat came from Saddam Hussein; during the first Gulf War, Tel Aviv was bombarded by Iraqi missiles, and Israeli families sat in sealed rooms with German-made gas masks covering their faces. In March 2002, with the Second Intifada, the threat came from the Palestinians. Now the threat comes from Gaza, and from the overarching prospect of nuclear weapons in Iran… To understate the obvious, this is not a formula for radiant mental health. And if there’s a scintilla of truth in the notion that countries are like people, then it is vain to expect Israel to behave normatively or even rationally. The question is not, How can you expect it, after all that? The question is, After all that, why do you expect it?

Yom Kippur stands out as a day of deep introspection, atonement, and transformation.

THERE IS YET ANOTHER factor that both communities must recall. Even in the moments during which the relationship is most strained, they need to remember one of the central lessons of Jewish history: the unpredictability of survival. Most national traditions celebrate great victories, and monuments are created to commemorate triumphs. They range from the glorious (Paris’s Arc de Triomphe, for example) to the grand (the Arch of Titus in Rome) to the foolish (such as Cairo’s October War Panorama, which portrays the Yom Kippur War as a great Egyptian victory). Jews have long had a different take on history. The Jewish calendar is replete with dates that mark near-catastrophe or actual destruction. The holiday of Purim marks the close call of the Jews’ narrow escape when Haman tried to convince the king to kill all the Jews in his kingdom. There is a fast day to commemorate the beginning of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem. Another marks the breaching of the city’s walls. And a more major fast (the aforementioned Ninth of Av) mourns the destruction of both Temples. In a similar vein, Israel is dotted with thousands of monuments, almost all of them to fallen soldiers in one war or another. Tellingly, there is hardly a single monument to an Israeli victory, of which there have been many.

Religious believers build self-control by regularly forcing themselves to interrupt their daily routines in order to pray. Some religions, like Islam, require prayers at fixed times every day. Many religions prescribe periods of fasting, like the day of Yom Kippur, the month of Ramadan, and the forty days of Lent. Religions mandate specific patterns of eating, like kosher food or vegetarianism. Some services and meditations require the believer to adopt and hold specific poses (like kneeling, or sitting cross-legged in the lotus position) so long that they become uncomfortable and require discipline to maintain them.

Yom Kippur. The day of Atonement. Should we fast? The question was hotly debated. To fast would mean a surer, swifter death. We fasted here the whole year round. The whole year was Yom Kippur.

This craggy political landscape was the kind of terrain in which Kissinger moved with the deftness of an Indian scout.

Every year, Yom Kippur goes like this: all the Jews of the world spend hours and hours praying that the wicked will be vanquished and that evil will evaporate from the Earth. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt bad for the wicked. What if they didn't want to be vanquished, even though that would be better for the world? What if they didn't want to evaporate?

A Jewish immigrant is at Ellis Island entering the United States. He has, among his belongings, four sets of false teeth. All the sets are made of gold and are being examined by an immigration officer. The officer informs the immigrant that he cannot bring in all the gold. There is simply too much. Whereupon the Jewish immigrant tells the officer in English that he is Orthodox and needs all four sets for dietary purposes. The immigration officer looks skeptical. “I know some things about Jews and kosher eating. Why would you need four sets of gold teeth?” The Jewish immigrant responds, “I am very Orthodox. Extremely pious. I use one set for milk products and one for meat and a third for breaking the fast on Yom Kippur, the holiest of all days on the Jewish calendar.” “I see,” says the immigration officer, now looking less skeptical. “You are obviously a very religious man. But you only mentioned three religious occasions. What is the fourth?” “Oh,” the Jewish immigrant muses, “that’s just for when I want a ham sandwich.

Yeah. So the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is for reflection. You're supposed to think about mistakes, ask forgiveness, make resolutions. That sort of thing. And then Yom Kippur is, essentially, the deadline... So, Wait. You contemplated your life and . . . resolved to become my friend? Even though you're no longer a practicing Jew? Josh gives me a wicked smile. "Is that a requirement for your friendship?

October 6 was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement and the holiest day of the Jewish year.

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The Nietzschean gesture implicit in the German title of At the Mind’s Limits—Jenseits von Schuld und Sühne—of reaching “beyond” guilt and atonement, suggests Améry’s suspicion about a reconciliation associated with a monotheistic ethos of granting absolution and achieving atonement. Derrida insists that atonement is a quintessential element of the “Abrahamic tradition of justice” (2001a: 28). It is traced back to the redemptive narrative of deliverance of the Jews from Egypt, and, subsequently, the Jewish fast of Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) on the 10th day of the 7th month of Tishri.

To those who fully open themselves to it, Yom Kippur is a life-transforming experience. It tells us that God, who created the universe in love and forgiveness, reaches out to us in love and forgiveness, asking us to love and forgive others. God never asked us not to make mistakes. All He asks is that we acknowledge our mistakes, learn from them, grow through them and make amends where we can.

Although Bubby doesn’t like to talk about the past, sometimes she can be convinced to tell the story of her mother. Her name was Chana Rachel, and a lot of my cousins are named after her. Chana Rachel was the fifth child in a family of seven, but by the time she got married, she only had two siblings left. A diphtheria epidemic had passed through their small Hungarian town when she was younger, and Bubby’s grandmother had watched one and then another of her children die, as their throats closed up and oxygen no longer reached their lungs. When four of her children were already dead, and little Chana Rachel developed the same high fever and mottled skin, my great-great-grandmother wailed loudly in desperation and with the rage of a lunatic rammed her fist down her daughter’s throat, tearing the skinlike growth that was preventing her from breathing properly. The fever broke, and Chana Rachel recovered. She would tell that story to her children many times, but only Bubby lived on to tell it to me. This story moves me in a way I can’t quite articulate. I imagine this mother of seven as a tzadekes, a saint, so desperate to save her children that she would do anything. Bubby says it was her prayer to God that helped her daughter recover, not the breaking of the skin in her throat. But I don’t see it that way at all. I see a woman who took life into her own hands, who took action! The idea of her being fearless instead of passive thrills me. I too want to be such a woman, who works her own miracles instead of waiting for God to perform them. Although I mumble the words of the Yom Kippur prayers along with everyone else, I don’t think about what they mean, and I certainly don’t want to ask for mercy. If God thinks I’m so evil, then let him punish me, I think spitefully, wondering what kind of response my provocative claim might elicit in heaven. Bring it on, I think, angry now. Show me what you’ve got. With a world that suffers so indiscriminately, God cannot possibly be a rational being. What use is there appealing to a madman? Better to play his game, dare him to mess with me. A sudden feeling of peaceful resolution washes over me, that traditional Yom Kippur revelation that supposedly comes when one’s penance has been accepted. I know instinctively that I am not as helpless as some would like me to think. In the conversation between God and myself, I am not necessarily powerless. With my charm and persuasiveness, I might even get him to cooperate with me.

While the American synagogue was built with the financial support of what are commonly called three-day-a-year Jews, referring to those who may attend the synagogue for worship only on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, that generation of occasional synagogue attendees is losing interest in the synagogue. Thus, either people are fully embracing the synagogue—and willing to support and participate in it—or they are unwilling to support an institution in which they do not participate. Without support from these two groups, the synagogue may no longer

The passage of fourteen years had led to another significant change in the international environment. As I told Bush 43 and Condi Rice on more than one occasion, when I had been in government before, problems or crises more often than not would arise, be dealt with, and go away. The Yom Kippur War in October 1973, a serious crisis that risked confrontation with the Soviet Union, was over in a few days. Even the Iranian hostage crisis, as painful and protracted as it was, ended in 444 days. Now hardly any issue or problem could be resolved and put aside; instead problems accumulated.

This is the beginning of social criticism and one of the beginnings of democratic thought. Most ancient literature on democracy comes from Athens. But the Bible is also a primary source. The prophets horrify us with visions of destroyed cities. But then they rain magical poetry down on us and make us believe we can change the world. Take a song by Second Isaiah, a song read every Yom Kippur. He is singing to people who feel imprisoned, even if they also are economically doing well. He says they can do morally better: liberate the captives, open the prisons, share your clothes, feed the hungry, satisfy the desire of the afflicted. Acts of empathy will bind people together and give them the collective power to rebuild their ruins, “to raise the foundations of many generations.” Till the 1970s I never noticed the urban ending of this song: “And you will be called the restorer of streets to dwell in.