On Holy

Warning -- post Yom Kippur/religious post. If you are waiting for me to resume being secularly stupid, please continue to hold.

Each year at this time, I see the same claim made all over the place, that Yom Kippur is the "holiest day of the year" in the Jewish calendar. I chafe at this because it begs so many questions and is answered in a number of ways. Here's a basic ides -- the "holy" status of a day is, according to some, reflected in the number of people called to read (or have read on their behalf) a section of the day's assigned Torah reading. A weekday has 3 people. The new month has 4. Holidays have five. Yom Kippur has 6 and EVERY SABBATH has 7. So, in that sense, Yom Kippur is "less" holy than every sabbath in the year. So, clearly, the claim that it is the "holiest" day is arguable at the least.

What, though, is at the heart of this uncertainty? I believe that the answer is that we don't know what we are asking when we think we are presenting the answer. What does "holy" mean that we can assign levels of it to a day or a person? In English, the word "holy" means "sacred" (which tells us nothing...synonyms make terrible definitions) or "dedicated to God." That's somewhat better but it still clears nothing up as all holidays and sabbaths (and a host of other things) are dedicated to God.

So I figure to look at this through the lens of the Hebrew. The word in question is "kodesh" (yes, I know that real transliterationists will insist on my using Q, but I'm using K, K? K). That word does mean "sacred" but it also means (and you can look at Klein's Etymological Dictionary for confirmation, words like "forbidden," "purified" and "separated." So now we have a new angle to look at -- the "holiness" quotient of a day has to do with its being separated from other days. But how is a day, or anything else, set aside? The word "forbidden" gives us a clue. Something is set aside by the imposition of restrictions on it, showing us how its use is limited to sacred functions. Some of this is hinted here but I don't think it goes far enough, and I thought of it independently, so there.

As Jews, we often make blessings and in those blessings we acknowledge that God is the king of the universe who "made us holy through his commandments." Now, what does that mean? Well, to me, and in the mood I'm in, it means that we are set aside from others because we are limited in our behavior, controlled by a set of laws and commandments that restrict us to a particular path connected to God. The more laws we have, the more we become a "holy nation" because the more restricted we are! Now wait, you say, many of those laws don't tell you what you can't do -- they tell you what you must do, so how is that a restriction? Simply put, they tell us what we are required, BY THOSE LAWS, to do. That is its own restriction, even in a positive sense. So the more behaviors we are commanded TO DO, the more laws we have to follow in order to do them -- restrictions on behavior. Yom Kippur has a whole mess of laws and behaviors specific to its ritual practice (including the High Priest's entrance into the Holy of Holies, the kodesh kodashim, the most restricted place in Judaism).

I have to test this theory -- so I look at other uses of the word. The K-D-Sh root applies to a number of things. For example, I sanctify (separate?) the sabbath day (and holidays) through the recitation of the kiddush, a special prayer declaring the nature of the day, said usually over wine. Why wine? I was wondering about that and then I remembered that of all drinks, grape products have the most dietary-law restrictions applied to them! So it would make sense that we celebrate the restrictive nature of the day with a religiously limited product.

There is a euphemism often used in Judaism is the term "kadesha" for a prostitute. The above webpage explains that the term means that the woman has separated herself from community morals but I disagree (respectfully). The term, as I learned it, is a euphemism. A euphemism replaces a positive idea for an inversely negative one so it isn't taken literally. Looking at kadesha and seeing the "separation" sense misses how the word is a euphemism. I see it as saying exactly the opposite of what it means. The woman is a "kadesha" because she is completely UNRESTRICTED in her behavior. So calling her "the restricted one" creates an opposite-based euphemism.

God's name is said to be holy (which could mean that heord "k-d-sh" is a name of God) and in the sense of restriction this makes sense. We are limited as to when and where we can pronounce God's name, and the 4 letter one had incredible limitations -- so much so that when it was uttered people fell on their faces and prayed!

So if the k-d-sh root has to do with restrictions that create or are created by God's commandments then which day is more k-d-sh? Well, certainly there are restrictions on Yom Kippur that do not exist on Shabbat. We are enjoined from 5 categories of behavior, including ones that are integral to our celebration of holidays and the sabbath. Doesn't this make Yom Kippur a more restrictive day and case closed? Not exactly -- because we cannot do these actions (such as eating) we cannot fulfill other religious obligations which would naturally surround them and which would restrict our actions further. We miss some of the restrictiveness of our dietary habits by simply not eating but a day on which we MUST eat becomes more holy because we then have to eat in a particular way. Additionally, there are prayers that we (Ashkenazic Jews) cannot say on Shabbat that we DO say on Yom Kippur. The Avinu Malkeinu is not said on Shabbat but it IS said on Yom Kippur. This would mean that in terms of the kinds of prayers and requests we make, there are fewer restrictions on Yom Kippur, elevating the sabbath in terms of k-d-sh restrictions.

So after all this, what's the upshot? What day is "more" holy, whatever that means? Do we look at the punishment for breaking the restriction and decide that the more stringent the punishment, the more holy the forbidden line that was crossed?

I'll go with "it's a toss up and an unnecessary one." What is the practical implication to calling a day more or less "holy" than another? We are caught up in labels and extremes -- we want the most, the least, the "specialest," but sometimes, these things don't really exist. We need to see that all holy is holy. All limitation is for the sake of heaven and we shouldn't try to create a hierarchy so that we can decide what is more or less important to abide by.

How to Become a super man, Yom Kippur Edition

 I was asked to speak before Ne'ilah this year, but plans changed. I had, though, already written the speech, so I figured I would post it here. Eat wisely today, pray intently tomorrow -- the sky's the limit.

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

Gut yom tov and chag same’ach to everyone.

First off, I would like to extend a sincere Yashar kochacheim and thank you to everyone who helped make this minyan, and all the minyanim during the yamim nora’im possible. Having a shul is a luxury and we live in a day and age where we have learned to treat luxuries as rights and take them for granted. One way to deal with that is to stop and appreciate all those who make that luxury possible. So thank you to all.

------

Over the years, having been present for a number of pre-ne’ilah speeches, I have heard and have imagined a variety of metaphors, and approaches. Fourth and goal. Bottom of the ninth. The shofar as a siren. The swan song. I have also looked at the prayer, “ne’ilah” in a few different ways – I’m sure you have heard them: the closing of the gates of prayer, the shoes we use as we travel on a path of repentance, even the burden we carry.

These all seem so scary and I have learned as a teacher that inspiring through fear is not always the most effective tack. Much like Judaism, teaching benefits from a combination of yirah, fear, and ahava, love. I think that there is a reason we say “chag same’ach”, accentuating the joy, and a reason that mishna 8 in Mas’echet Ta’anit, perek 4, has Rabban Shimon Ben Gamliel saying that Yom Kippur is one of the 2 best days (yamim tovim) in the Jewish calendar. Just as the other day, the 15^th of Av is a day which involves wearing white, symbolizing purity and escaping a death sentence, so does Yom Kippur, and both days invoke the idea of marriage and partnership – between men and women, the Jewish people and the Torah and even the people and Hashem, himself. Today is a chag, and one celebrating a joyous connection between a king and his betrothed. We go out to dance in the field and now, the king is in the field with us.

I also know that, as an English teacher, my strength is in finding meanings that my students will say aren’t there, but showing them how those meanings, grounded even in a fanciful or “homiletical” way of approaching text, have the ability to bring to us some different level of understanding.

I was planning on going to Israel in November. As might be expected, those plans, unlike many airplanes, are up in the air. But I was thinking about the term for that trip recently: the Hebrew word for the journey is n’si’ah. The grammatical structure (another habit of mine is to break words down and rebuild them based on roots, affixes and conjugations – I’m a real hoot at parties) takes a two letter combination of samech ayin (SA) and works it into a noun. Sa becomes n’si’ah. The modern Hebrew word for “Travel” is turned into “a trip.” When someone is about to travel, we say “n’si’ah tovah” – have a great trip.

I thought about that when I tried to understand the word “ne’ilah.” It dawned on me that I could reverse engineer a similar process in its construction. If the end result of unpacking n’si’ah is SA, then couldn’t the result of a parallel breakdown (grammatical integrity notwithstanding) turn the heart of n’ilah into AL? AL is a wonderful word – sure it means “on” but we commonly use it to mean “up” or “above.” Modern Hebrew has it also mean “super” (which we all can connect to the phrase “up, up and away”). The airline is “El Al” which seems to mean “to the up” or “to that which is above”. So if that’s the essence of the word, then the noun form that is equivalent to “n’si’ahs” “a traveling” is “ne’ilah”, “a rising.”

We have made it through a long day of davening and, sure, we have to be worried that our prayers have not yet been efficacious. We have to redouble those efforts and put on our walking shoes. The gates are closing – fear the loss of opportunity. The king will not be in the field and we risk missing out on that positive and life affirming judgment. We have to shake in fear and stir our souls with the final shofar. Those last few slichot give us that chance to say we are sorry one more time.

But that can’t stand on its own. Our fear has to be complemented with love and our hearts have to soar in order for our message to rise up. Let us take this chance to say “ne’ilah” – let’s rise up together – let our tefillah be part of that Aliyah, that rising up in which we lift our voices and celebrate this best of days, when we solidify our place in Hashem’s presence for the upcoming year.

Chag Same’ach and N’ilah tova everyone.

In which I say nothing

 

As the high holidays approach, a young man's fancy turns to inspirational messages exhorting repentance. Or something like that.

Anyway, I was thinking about something as I prowled through the 11th grade morning prayer services, getting annoyed as is my wont.

It seems that the power of being human is not just in being able to talk, David Bowie notwithstanding. Yes, speech is an incredible gift which has guided discourse and the establishing of advance civilization. Additionally, I know that the term "speech" is not to be taken literally -- the sign of humanity has to do more with the notion of language on the whole but I got to thinking about speaking and I suddenly realized a lesson which is often discussed at this, the day of our judgment.

The pwoer isn't the power to talk -- the true power is in the ability to choose not to speak. Our use of language is discretionary, not instinctual! We can decide not to speak in a given context and that control over saying a particular thing or nothing at all is what truly sets us apart. With a word we can hurt another or lift another up. With silence we can let others discover for themselves or continue to be mystified.

I often think of this scene from Ocean's Eleven. Rusty says nothing but Danny fills in the gaps as if Rusty made a persuasive argument! This is the sound fo silence.

Refraining from speaking slander (Lashon Hara, or evil speech) marks a control over the tongue. My dog, Sparky, and all his dog friends can't help but bark when someone knocks on the door, or when someone makes a noise or, it seems, a cloud floats by. We implore them to quiet down but they can't make that choice. A baby has yet to learn the power of stopping when the crying fit descednds. This is growing up.

And, of course, the choice should be not just not to speak, but not to communicate. We can get a message across with our body language, our eyes. And these messages can be as powerful.

So choose to be human and show you can choose to listen to The Talking Heads (Psycho Killer...) over David Bowie.