Atonement
Yom Kippur.
It's one of the two Jewish high holidays I go with Mer to services.
I don't really feel comfortable wearing a yarmulke there -- while I don't wish to offend with my lack of faith, I feel my expression of belief is just as valid.
For a while, we hunted around for a congregation that would best appeal to Mer. Trouble is, she grew up in a Conservative household; since we are what's termed a "mixed-faith" marriage, a Conservative congregation would never have us. (Ironically, I find Conservative services to be the most beautiful, mostly because of the cantor's songs and the fact that everything is done in Hebrew, which is growing on me as a language. I always found German and Hebrew to be more honest-sounding languages than the romance languages.) We found a Reconstructionalist -- even more liberal than Reform -- congregation that met in a high school basketball court. They initially appealed to us because they dispensed with all the patriarchal crap, but they always invited the entire congregation to sing at their own pace, which always sounded like speaking in tongues to us, with guitars thrown in too.
Which brings us to our present Reform congregation, Beth Am.
What normally happens when we go to services twice a year is that I'll start reading the prayer book for quotations or prayers that strike me as interesting or insightful while the service goes on.
Yom Kippur is great for this because after all, it's a day of reflection and self-denial. And the Jewish faith is very strict about what demands atonement, and very liberal about what constitutes a sin:
We sin against You when we sin against ourselves.
For our failures of truth, O Lord, we ask forgiveness.
For passing judgment without knowledge of the facts,
and for distorting facts to fit our theories.
For deceiving ourselves and others with half-truths,
and for pretending to emotions we do not feel.
For using the sins of others to excuse our own,
and for denying responsibility for our own misfortunes.
For condemning in our children the faults we tolerate in ourselves,
and for condemning in our parents the faults we tolerate in ourselves.
We sin against You when we sin against ourselves.
For our failures of truth, O Lord, we ask forgiveness.
For keeping the poor in the chains of poverty,
and turning a deaf ear to the cry of the oppressed.
For using violence to maintain our power,
and for using violence to bring about change.
For waging aggressive war,
and for the sin of appeasing aggressors.
For obeying criminal orders,
and for the sin of silence and indifference.
For poisoning the air, and polluting land and sea,
and for all the evil means we employ to accomplish good ends.
We sin against You when we sin against ourselves.
For our failures of truth, O Lord, we ask forgiveness.
For confusing love with lust,
and for pursuing fleeting pleasure at the cost of lasting hurt.
For using others as a means of gratifying our desires,
and as stepping-stones to further our ambitions.
For withholding love to control those we claim to love,
and shunting aside those whose youth or age disturbs us.
For hiding from others behind an armor of mistrust,
and for the cynicism which leads us to mistrust the reality of unselfish love.
This was in the sermon tonight, but there were several pearls of rabbinical wisdom in the prayer book, literally called "Meditations":
The law fuses the individual and the community into a moral unity. The dichotomy, individual and society, is dissolved under the dominion of the law of God. It commands respect for the life, dignity, and rights of human beings; it imposes social duties on individuals. Under the moral law, individual righteousness and social justice work together to give individuals their rights and society its righteousness. Conflicts between the rights of individuals and the needs of society could not arise in the thought of the Prophets because the law of God covered them both. The rights of individuals were guaranteed by the obligations laid on society, and the needs of society were met by the duties commanded to individuals.
-- Israel I. Mattuck
There were some inspiring words:
When we are dead, and people weep for us and grieve, let it be because we touched their lives with beauty and simplicity. Let it not be said that life was good to us, but, rather, that we were good to life.
-- Jacob P. Rudin
I hope, beyond all hopes, that I am good to life.
There were accounts worthy of Schindler's List:
In the days of the Crusades, whole communities of Jews were massacred in the Rhineland. In one city, young and old donned armor and stood behind their leader, Rabbi Kalonymos ben Meshullam. The gate was smashed, their friends had fled, and death reached out with sword and fire. They said to one another: "Let us be strong and bear the yoke of our holy faith, for only in this world can the enemy kill us . . . ." In another city, as the flames mounted high, the martyrs began to sing a song that began softly but rose to a crescendo. Those who heard it came and asked: "What kind of song is this? We have never heard such a sweet melody." It was the Aleinu -- We must praise the Lord of all . . . ."
...and then, the modern Holocaust:
When Leo Baeck came out of the black midnight of the concentration camp, he looked about at the world and at his neighbors. Many averted their eyes. They had been silent. They had been selfish -- or they had followed the multitude to do evil. In the darkness of the camps, Leo Baeck had not despaired. He had fulfilled his function: he had taught and he had given comfort. And, in the darkness of the new world which had to live with the memory of Belsen and Auschwitz, Baeck had continued to teach and to comfort his people. They say that when Baeck lifted his hands and spoke the priestly benediction the congregation felt very close to the Divine Presence.
And then, the thought I left myself with for tonight:
Compassionate God, let the promise be fulfilled: "I will bring peace to the land; you shall be serene and unafraid. I will rid the land of vicious beasts, and the sword of war shall be set aside. They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor ever again shall they train for war. Justice shall roll down like waters, righteousness as a mighty stream."
I like the Jewish version a lot better than Isaiah 2:4.
All the God stuff doesn't really bother me any more, because I can listen to the singing and read the prayer book at my own pace while the service progresses. I also like being able to use Yom Kippur as a day of reflection but in my own way.
In any case, since humility is a trait I prize pretty highly in other people, it's time for me to be a humbler person myself.
Considering I've quoted Nancy Drew, porn, and now Yom Kippur prayers in as many days, I've got a fair way to go. Nevertheless, you won't get a more succinct summation of what my personality is like...