This is the fourth Yom Kippur since
we moved to Iceland and it can be a difficult holiday. This year as it
approached I did not feel connected, didn’t feel the push to make the effort to
go to Reykjavik for services. I was
conflicted but took the attitude of, “it is what it is”. We shift through stages and this is where I
am this year.
After teaching I returned home for
dinner and as I was getting the kids ready for bed I could feel the imposition
of Yom Kippur begin to envelop me. After
reading two stories I spoke to them about Yom Kippur, about the seriousness of
the day and asking for forgiveness. I explained that Jews all over the world
were choosing to fast and go to synagogue all day. I encouraged Zelia toward
self-reflection about past behavior but she stayed focused on the wrongs done
to her. I apologized to her for my lack of patience when it was most needed.
Then I pulled Itzhak Perlman’s new Kol Nidrei up on youtube
and we lay in silence and listened. The gravity of the day could not be ignored
any longer.
You may know that Kol Nidrei is in
Aramaic and not in Hebrew and so Zelia asked me what he was singing. She was
entranced, as so many of us are, by this almost magical prayer. I explained,
somewhat incorrectly, that he was asking for forgiveness from G-d and thinking
about being a better person in the coming year. Kol Nidrei caused a controversy
when it was added to the liturgy; a problematic plea for nullification for the
promises we will make and break in the coming year. I hold the same discomfort
with it as those did from centuries ago. Yet in this soulful plea there is an
acknowledgement of our frailty as human being to tend toward weaknesses, toward
imperfections. In its plea for forgiveness of future failures we recognize that
we will fall short of our best intentions to be better, to try harder – this
sobering knowledge is at the heart of the human condition.
The children slept and the night
fell heavily. This morning too felt different. Jacob and I had a moment to
speak about our shortcomings with each other and asked a heartfelt forgiveness
from Zelia. Zelia, herself, wore the seriousness of the moment and without
wanting to share any words went and gave Lazer a big, quiet hug. So, for the
first time in my life, I have experienced the raw gravity of this day, which I
found imposed on me without choice of action on my part to attend synagogue or
fast. The weight of being a Jew and living a Jewish life simply became an
expression of my life.
