Yom Kippur
In a sense, Yom Kippur is a day that exists out of time. Think of it: we do not eat, drink, wash, procreate, work or change the outer world in any way. The entire day is as if it is crossed off the calendar and we totally eliminate it from our creative minds. In a way, we can conceive of Yom Kippur as a day of death. After all , we dress in white, reminiscent of the tachrichim in which we are buried, in addition to all the prohibitions that keep us from life.
That is why some sages make continual reference to the idea of t’chiyat hameitim, life after death, on Yom Kippur. If we are granted life and forgiveness on the Awesome day then we must re-start life as if we had been reborn.
Each moment is precious. Each moment is self-contained and holy beyond measure. And yet, the next moment is not guaranteed. It may not come. On Yom Kippur we choose to live out of time where the entire universe melds into one day of sublime holiness.
And the food that we miss, the nourishment that we lack, is supposed to guide our soul towards a higher level of spiritual nourishment. In this sense, fasting becomes a liberating experience.
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Rebbe Nachman makes the observation that nourishment is also day to day. The food that we take in on one day is enough to sustain us on that day, not more. And yet, on Yom Kippur we live off of our stored nourishment. We take in no food, so our existence is from what we ate in the past. Isn’t this the inner meaning of Yom Kippur? The Day is built around the notion that we are only present in our Shuls to consider what we have done, the actions we performed, the words we uttered, or the people we ignored. It is all about the past.
The food we deny ourselves needs to push our consciousness to yesterday, to a year of yesterdays.
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It is our belief that fasting on the holy day of Yom Kippur has the ability to wipe out strife from our hearts. It scourges the bitterness that has long settled into our bones and refashions them as if we were reborn. Yom Kippur reframes our thoughts is such a way as to purify our hearts. And what is the opposite of strife? When this great stumbling block is removed from our consciousness what is left? Peace.
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It is hard to fast especially when the pains of the stomach begin to gnaw at our minds. We become uncomfortable, edgy. Sometimes we develop a headache or body aches. Pirkay Avot informs us, "Negate your will to His will so that the will of others will be negated to your will."
The fast is a process of purification on many levels. On the simplest level, we fast to rid our body of toxins. In making our body use up its stores of gathered calories we allow our body to become cleansed.
On a higher level, the blood that circulates through our body is a metaphor for all the pain and anger that we harbor. Think of the expression, “That made my blood boil.” In this context the purification takes us to a higher step on the ladder to purifying our thoughts, raising our level of compassion, bringing us closer to the Holy One, blessed be He.
Ascending yet further upwards, the fast enables our soul to rise above our basest animal self. The body has cravings; the soul does not. In this mind-set the soul is allowed to climb upwards towards the point where it originated. In the process of fasting we weaken the body while giving strength to the soul. For once, we give free reign to the part of us that is most like God. And the soul ascends. This, too, is a kind of rebirth.
Finally, we act is accord with God’s wishes, not our own. What greater mitzvah can there be than this? This is what is meant by the quote above where we are asked to “negate our will” in favor of His. This is the ultimate gift that bridges two universes simultaneously.
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Forgiveness is hard and multi-faceted. It may sound simple. After all, how complicated can forgiveness be? Yet, it is complex. Here are a few of the complexities:
There are different kinds of forgiveness depending upon the parties involved. The first concerns God. With the Holy One, it is vital to be ruthlessly honest. Anything less would be disingenuous. He knows everything before we even open our mouths, so why try to hide, dissemble, or obfuscate? That is useless and deceives neither God nor ourselves.
Confession to God is a necessary prelude to forgiveness. After all, how can you be forgiven unless you know what you are asking forgiveness from? One must know the kind of forgiveness we are seeking from the Holy One, blessed be he, and one must then articulate that before Him. As already stated, God knows the truth, we ought to know the truth (unless the lies have grown so deep and immoveable that even we believe them) and therefore the starting place is verbalizing those sins. We articulate -- in words -- our sins. Finally, the process has begun: one asks for forgiveness after having fully stated what it is we wished to be cleansed from.
While this is vital to all kinds of forgiveness it particularly appertains to sins against God. In other words, we do this confession only when no one else was involved. This first sort of forgiveness is solely for sins against Him. This might mean acts we committed in secret where we believe no one was affected. It may concern what was done behind closed doors, swearing a vow to God and not carrying it through, not fulfilling the mitzvoth, ignoring what God has ordained... It may also mean not living up to what God has demanded of us in other areas like being generally insensitive, ignoring our conscience, etc.
This first stage of forgiveness is a heavy and powerful thing. To confess one's sins means that we stop forgiving ourselves and making excuses for our behavior. This is not easy especially as we become particularly adept at self- deception after having practiced and honed it for many decades. We do not wish to see our flaws, shortcomings. Such self revelation is painful. So we develop mechanisms to mask our actions, to say that they are really not so bad after all (“They had it coming to them”, “Everybody does it,” and the deliberate forgetting parts of our sinfulness are just three examples of how we mask what we have done), when they can be really horrific. I am sure no one needs to be reminded of how the Nazis believed they were doing good things. We do much the same in our lives. We excuse ourselves in myriad ways.
The next level of forgiveness concerns others. Forgiveness by God of sins committed against Him does not correlate to sins against people. That is to say, God does not absolve us from hurts we have done to others; He only forgives sins committed against Him.
To effect forgiveness from people we must go the people we have harmed. This will be familiar to those who have passed through Step programs. For people in Recovery it is critical to confront the people whose lives we have messed up. This is also a Jewish idea. Forgiveness from God is in some ways connected to forgiveness from man and in other ways totally independent. We need to be reconciled with God but He also demands that we find healing and reconciliation with His other children.
That same idea holds true for Yom Kippur. On the Day of Atonement, God forgives us from sins only against God. That is why prior to Yom Kippur we are commanded to go the people we have lied to, hurt, stolen from, and connived against. Only when they forgive us can we turn to God. First people, then God.
This works in a similar way to the first step above. To gain forgiveness from people, we must be specific. You can't forgiven by saying, "If I ever did anything to offend you...". That does not work. It is worthless.
To be fiercely honest is to live an upright life. To go to the people whose lives we have made bitter or worse and acknowledge what we have done then seek their forgiveness takes courage. It takes courage because we fear we may become “less” in the process of admitting we made mistakes. In truth we lose nothing but our ego shouts out to us that we will become diminished by apologizing.
Saying we are sorry gives much in reward as it is a refinement of character and actually changes the way we look at the world -- and more importantly at ourselves – while being an act of courage. We worry, “They will not trust us when we come seeking forgiveness.” Why should they trust our words? Our deeds have belied them. We have abused them. We have already proven our falseness, our bent for afflicting pain. We also fret, “They will reject our apology.” They should rightly be reticent to forgive when we have demonstrated our worth to them already in negative ways. Real forgiveness should only happen when we have proven - after time - that we no longer will be a victimizer. Time proves sincerity. That too takes great strength and determination.
Forgiveness of self happens after these initial two steps have been taken. It is after these movements have been enacted that forgiveness comes. It arrives because we are deserving of receiving it; when we have been rigorously honest with ourselves, have confronted the real sources of our pain, have made amends, and gained in their eyes forgiveness. This can take years.
The other type of forgiveness is the forgiveness that is granted by us to others. Sometimes this is called “letting go.” “Letting go” cannot be faked because we will ultimately lash out at ourselves or at them if we lie about it. Our unconscious mind will not long tolerate such deception. It will rebel sooner or later.
To forgive another person for the pain they have caused you is a double gift. It unbinds them and unfetters you. But, it cannot be faked. It must be genuine, real. And only we know in our heart the truth, the genuineness of that act of forgiveness. But this final act stands independently of the ones above. In other words, we can achieve the first two acts of forgiveness without coming to this third step. It is independent.
There is no question God wants our forgiveness, wants us to be forgiven and patiently waits for it. He roots for the best part of us to emerge and take control of the mess we have created. It is not part of our belief, though, that forgiveness is granted just because we wake up one day and ask for it. It must be worked for and earned. It comes when we have proven we are deserving of it. It is the deed, not the word, which is the conclusive evidence of our sincerity to be forgiven.