We Pray Together This Night...

Sometimes we develop strong emotional attachments to somewhat unlikely things. On the eve on Yom Kippur, we stand solemnly as a congregation for the chanting of Kol Nidrei. The ceremony is surrounded by much pageantry: processing with the Torah scrolls and holding them before the congregation as the Aramaic words are sung.

Kol Nidrei is a legal formula — an oath that would have been sworn before a rabbinic court — in which we declare that any vows we make under duress between this Yom Kippur and the next (or in some versions, between last Yom Kippur and this one) are null and void. In a traditional synagogue, Kol Nidrei is chanted three times because for an oath to be valid in a rabbinic court, it must be stated three times. We hold the Torah scrolls while proclaiming the oath, which is akin to swearing on a Bible in a U.S. civil court.

Do we really care about these oaths and vows? What does this legal formula have to do with the emotional power we attach to the Day of Atonement? The early reformers also questioned the Kol Nidrei ceremony, but for different reasons. After the Enlightenment when Jews began to be welcomed into the broader society, some of the rabbis worried that non-Jews would use Kol Nidrei as evidence of the lack of trustworthiness of Jews. After all, on the most holy night of the year, Jews all over the world stand in their synagogues and proclaim that they should not be held accountable for promises they’ve made. The rabbis concluded that Kol Nidrei should be eliminated from the Yom Kippur liturgy.

We know, of course, that Kol Nidrei was not removed. And we know that, for so many of us, listening to Kol Nidrei is emblematic of the Day of Atonement, setting the mood for 25 hours of introspection, prayer and fasting. It was, in fact, a groundswell of protest from congregants that kept Kol Nidrei in the liturgy. It was not that worshippers were so attached to the Aramaic text. Rather, it was the ancient melody that embodied this holy day. One of the oldest melodies of our liturgy, Kol Nidrei dates from around the 12th century. It is the power the music that calls us to reflect, atone and forgive.

There is another part of the Kol Nidrei ceremony that goes almost unnoticed in our service. The Aramaic paragraph is preceded by a declaration before heaven and earth that on this night we deem it proper to pray together with sinners. This speaks to a very important aspect of our Yom Kippur worship. Our prayers of atonement are all stated in the plural: “Al cheit shechatanu l’fanecha…” (“For the sins we have committed before You…”).

The period of introspection leading up to the High Holy Days can be stressful. For those of us who take these days of preparation seriously, we need to be careful not to berate ourselves, but look to make changes in thoughtful
and healthy ways. Sometimes admitting to our own offenses can be painful or embarrassing. Reciting the litany of offenses in the plural actually takes some of the pressure off of us. None of us has committed all of those offenses — the liturgy tells us that we not only accept our own weaknesses but accept the fact that each of us wrestles with unique challenges. We don’t single people out but rather encourage everyone — with God’s help, and the support of family and community — to come to terms with their shortcomings, and work to create for themselves a life of health and peace.

May these holy days be profound and meaningful, and bring each of us renewed strength and the blessing of shalom: wholeness and peace.

L’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor