Yom Kippur is the holiest day on the Jewish calendar. I
doubt that many will disagree.
For me, Yom Kippur bears a unique significance for a few
reasons. It was a tradition in my family ever since I can remember. Its reverence vibrates
in every part of my essence. In addition to its piety among our Jewish Holy Days,
Yom Kippur also bears poignant sadness as it brings to the surface memories of
the Yom Kippur war and its painful losses.
The observance of this sacred day is commanded in the Torah,
in Vayikra (Leviticus 23:28-320: “You shall not perform any work on that very
day…. and you shall afflict yourselves.” Furthermore, G-d warns that any
disobedience will be followed by severe punishment and any person “who will not
be afflicted on that very day, shall be cut off from its people. And any person
who performs any work on that day, I will destroy that person from amidst its
people.”
This, a few millennia old, directive, sounds appaling and
scary, does it not? What a menacing scenario - the embodiment of theocratic
dictatorship, so it seems.
The inevitable and eminent enforcement of that commandment is what some
have tried to warn us against for close to a year. Yisrael, they keep parroting,
is going to turn into a replica of Iran, G-d forbid.
Not quite.
On the Eve of Yom Kippur, as I was making my way to services
in a nearby makeshift synagogue, dressed in white and immersed in the cloak of
holiness, I watched my many fellow Yisraelis who were flocking the traffic free
streets. While some were, like me, observing that commandment, others were
playing with their children who were riding their bikes, some of which were
electrical and enjoying themselves. A few were busy texting or speaking on
their mobile telephones. Some were wearing shorts and dressed casually. I even
noticed one or two drinking water out of plastic bottles. As I walked past
them, I wished them “Chatima Tova,” the traditional greeting on that day. They
responded in kind.
Having been warned, repeatedly, that religious dictatorship
was upon us, I was surprised to see that none of the “disobedient” souls were
scolded, stoned, or destroyed. My hawk eyes were searching for the secret “dress
code police” ready to arrest the culprits. Alas, to no avail.
What I did sense, though, is what the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks termed
as “The Dignity of Difference.”
As I approached the place of worship, I noticed many other
folks entering it. They were young, they were old. They were dressed in the
customary white attire while others were wearing torn jeans. Some women even
entered it with their bare arms and shoulders exposed.
No one stopped them. No one scolded them. No one denied them
entry, and no one sent them back home to change their garments. Surprisingly
enough, even here the “theocratic dress police” was nowhere to be found.
“The Dignity of Difference,” was welcoming all who sought to pray indiscriminately.
Upon entering the room, as I always do, I seek a place in
the women’s section (generally front row) and make myself comfortable. I
personally prefer separate sections for men and women. Is it because of habit?
Perhaps. Whatever the reason, I love it.
Before anyone jumps at me on that point, let me interject
and add that separate seating for men and women is not the only setting
available in Yisrael. A childhood friend of mine who wishes to sit next to her
partner during prayer, elects to attend a reform synagogue. We continue to
respect each other and accept our respective choices. Each to their own.
Indeed, there are those of us who continue to practice “The
Dignity of Difference.”
Some parts of the service also include chanting. As a former
singer, it is perfect for me. From what I know, some religious sectors bar
women from joining in the invocation. They base it on Halachah. It is their
choice and a difference that needs to be dignified. Exclusion of women is what
a few elements in Yisrael have been warning and threatening us against. As I was
singing, I stealthily checked around the hall in search for hints of the covert
secret “religious police” lest its representatives come and arrest me for
practicing my freedom of chanting.
Instead, “The Dignity of Difference” was smiling at me from
every corner.
What did, however, catch my attention, admittedly for the
first time, even though I have attended Yom Kippur services for many years, is one
line, part of “Kol Nidrei,” a prayer which ushers in Yom Kippur. “Kol Nidrei”
(All Vows) which is recited in Aramaic nullifies the binding nature of promises
and vows in advance. They are declared invalid. All vows “are absolved,
remitted, cancelled, declared null and void.” The line that struck me and sent
shivers through my body is the one offering forgiveness to the entire
congregation of am Yisrael and EQUALLY “to the stranger/foreigner who resides
amongst them.”
Now, you tell me, dear readers, if that is not the epitome
of “The Dignity of Difference.”
“The Dignity of Difference” amid members of any nation as
well as towards the strangers amongst them is one of the most important pillars
of any democracy. It is part of the Jewish D.N.A and is evident in almost every
aspect that characterizes the modern-day State of Yisrael, the National Home of
the Jewish People. Yom Kippur is but one example.
It is noteworthy to mention that the group which sets up
these makeshift synagogues is “Herzliya
Torah Center” (Garin Torani) headed by Tsachi Weiss. Tzachi and his team
have been doing it for several years thus making participation in the High Holy
Days accessible to all who wish to partake in them. The service is conducted by
residents of Judea and Samaria who leave their homes and families during this
special time of year to bestow upon us the blessing of the experience.
And what an experience it has been.
Chatima Tova to you, fellow Jews and Am Yisrael and a
wonderful year to all.
