Yom Kippur

As we enter a New Year without our loved one, our memories of them and the experiences we shared with them may begin to feel further away. This activity invites us into presence with our memories and creates a physical keepsake we can revisit. You may want to begin collecting memories during Rosh Hashanah, and continue adding to the jar throughout the year. 

To start, place a large jar, decorated box or vessel in a convenient location. Next, whenever you have a memory of your loved one, write it down on a slip of paper and place it in the jar. If a memory crosses your mind and you don’t have access to paper, record a voice memo or type it into your phone so you can transfer it to paper later. Your memories can be simple, such as a holiday tradition, your loved one’s favorite food, or of an adventure or experience you shared. 

Any time you wish to recall their lives, take a note from the jar. You can also revisit memories at the start of another New Year, when you say Yizkor or Kaddish, each time you visit their grave, or mark their birthday or yahrzeit. You can create a scrapbook with photos that correspond to the memories. You can read the notes together with other family members or friends and then share the story of the memory together. Or, invite several people to share stories at your Rosh Hashanah seder, Yom Kippur break fast or Sukkot gathering. 

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This ritual was adapted by Chloe Nassau, based on a creation from the Center for Loss & Renewal, Rabbi Benyamin Cirlin, LCSW

As we enter a New Year without our loved one, our memories of them and the experiences we shared with them may begin to feel further away. This activity invites us into presence with our memories and creates a physical keepsake we can revisit. You may want to begin collecting memories during Rosh Hashanah, and continue adding to the jar throughout the year. 

To start, place a large jar, decorated box or vessel in a convenient location. Next, whenever you have a memory of your loved one, write it down on a slip of paper and place it in the jar. If a memory crosses your mind and you don’t have access to paper, record a voice memo or type it into your phone so you can transfer it to paper later. Your memories can be simple, such as a holiday tradition, your loved one’s favorite food, or of an adventure or experience you shared. 

Any time you wish to recall their lives, take a note from the jar. You can also revisit memories at the start of another New Year, when you say Yizkor or Kaddish, each time you visit their grave, or mark their birthday or yahrzeit. You can create a scrapbook with photos that correspond to the memories. You can read the notes together with other family members or friends and then share the story of the memory together. Or, invite several people to share stories at your Rosh Hashanah seder, Yom Kippur break fast or Sukkot gathering.  

— 
This ritual was adapted by Chloe Nassau, based on a creation from the Center for Loss & Renewal, Rabbi Benyamin Cirlin, LCSW
 

This prayer is often said towards the conclusion of the Yizkor service. Initially written after the first crusades, Av Harachamim remembers the deaths of Jewish martyrs. Use it to remember the righteous acts of those who have died. 

אָב הָרַחֲמִים שׁוכֵן מְרומִים. בְּרַחֲמָיו הָעֲצוּמִים הוּא יִפְקוד בְּרַחֲמִים הַחֲסִידִים וְהַיְשָׁרִים וְהַתְּמִימִים. קְהִלּות הַקּדֶשׁ שֶׁמָּסְרוּ נַפְשָׁם עַל קְדֻשַּׁת הַשֵּׁם. הַנֶּאֱהָבִים וְהַנְּעִימִים בְּחַיֵּיהֶם וּבְמותָם לא נִפְרָדוּ. מִנְּשָׁרִים קַלּוּ וּמֵאֲרָיות גָּבֵרוּ לַעֲשׂות רְצון קונָם וְחֵפֶץ צוּרָם.
יִזְכְּרֵם אֱלהֵינוּ לְטובָה עִם שְׁאָר צַדִּיקֵי עולָם. וְיִנְקום לְעֵינֵינוּ נִקְמַת דַּם עֲבָדָיו הַשָּׁפוּךְ. כַּכָּתוּב בְּתורַת משֶׁה אִישׁ הָאֱלהִים. הַרְנִינוּ גויִם עַמּו כִּי דַם עֲבָדָיו יִקּום וְנָקָם יָשִׁיב לְצָרָיו וְכִפֶּר אַדְמָתו עַמּו:
וְעַל יְדֵי עֲבָדֶיךָ הַנְּבִיאִים כָּתוּב לֵאמר. וְנִקֵּיתִי דָּמָם לא נִקֵּיתִי וַיהוָה שׁכֵן בְּצִיּון:
וּבְכִתְבֵי הַקּדֶשׁ נֶאֱמַר לָמָּה יאמְרוּ הַגּויִם אַיֵּה אֱלהֵיהֶם. יִוָּדַע בַּגּויִם לְעֵינֵינוּ נִקְמַת דַּם עֲבָדֶיךָ הַשָּׁפוּךְ: וְאומֵר, כִּי דורֵשׁ דָּמִים אותָם זָכָר לא שָׁכַח צַעֲקַת עֲנָוִים:
וְאומֵר, יָדִין בַּגּויִם מָלֵא גְוִיּות מָחַץ ראשׁ עַל אֶרֶץ רַבָּה. מִנַּחַל בַּדֶּרֶךְ יִשְׁתֶּה עַל כֵּן יָרִים ראשׁ:

Av harachameem shochein m'romeem, b'rachamav ha-atzumeem hu yeefkod b'rachamim.
Hachaseedeem v'ha-y'shareem v'ha-t'meemeem, k'heelot hakodesh shemas'ru nafsham al kdushat Hasheim, hane-eh-haveem v'ha-n'eemeem b'chayeihem, uvmotam lo neefradu.
Meen'shareem kalu umeiarayot gaveiru laasot r'tzon konam v'cheifetz tzuram. 
Yeezk'reim Eloheinu l'tova eem sh'ar tzadeekei olam v'yeenkom l'eineinu neekmat dam avadav hashafuch kakatuv b'torat moshe eesh haEloheem: harneenu goyeem amo kee dam avadav yeekom v'nakam yasheev l'tzarav v'cheeper admato amo.
V'al y'dei avadecha haN'vee-eem katuv leimor: V'neekeitee damam lo neekeitee vAdonoy Shochein b'tzeeyon. 
Uvcheetvei hakodesh ne-eh-mar: lama yom'ru hagoyeem ayei ehloheihem yeevada bagoyeem l'eineinu neekmat dam avadecha hashafuch.
V'omeir: kee doreish dameem otam zachar lo shachach tza-ah-kat anaveem. 
V'omeir: yadeen bagoyeem malei g'veeyot machatz rosh al eretz raba. 
Meenachal baderech yeeshte al kein yareem rosh.

The Father of mercy who dwells on high in His great mercy will remember with compassion the pious, upright and blameless the holy communities, who laid down their lives for the sanctification of His name.
They were loved and pleasant in their lives and in death they were not parted.
They were swifter than eagles and stronger than lions to carry out the will of their Maker, and the desire of their steadfast God.
May our Lord remember them for good together with the other righteous of the world and may He redress the spilled blood of His servants as it is written in the Torah of Moses the man of God: “O nations, make His people rejoice for He will redress the blood of His servants He will retaliate against His enemies and appease His land and His people.”
And through Your servants, the prophets it is written: “Though I forgive, their bloodshed I shall not forgive When God dwells in Zion.” 
And in the Holy Writings it says: “Why should the nations say, 'Where is their God?” 
Let it be known among the nations in our sight that You avenge the spilled blood of Your servants.  
And it says: "For He who exacts retribution for spilled blood remembers them He does not forget the cry of the humble.” 
And it says: "He will execute judgment among the corpse-filled nations crushing the rulers of  the mighty land; from the brook by the wayside he will drink then he will hold his head high.”
 

Hineni

Judaism teaches that each individual is responsible for his or her own prayer. Unlike other traditions, we do not recognize an intermediary. The cantor does not pray for us, but rather with us. Each worshipper is responsible for reciting each word of the text.

We recognize that just when we need to be the most focused and disciplined with our thoughts, it’s natural to fall short. We may not be in the moment. We may not be able to express the proper words. So we literally pray for the ability to pray.

All the more so is this true on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, which according to traditional Jewish theology are literally life-or-death moments for the congregation. What if the cantor is distracted? What if all of the congregation’s prayers are rejected because of the deeds of one person? The cantor uses every tool at his disposal to enjoin God to look favorably upon him and the congregation.

The first word of the text —Hineni— is meant to remind God that He too shares some responsibility for what befalls the congregation. This one simple Hebrew word conveys millennia of Jewish transformation and acceptance of responsibility. Whenever a character in the Bible underwent a moment of profound change or crisis, he pronounced this same word: Hineni. Here I am.

When God called upon Abraham to sacrifice his son, Abraham answered, “Hineni.” When the angel of God later rushed to stop Abraham from performing this obscene act, Abraham once again said, “Hineni.” And when Moses stood before the burning bush and was called by name from within, he too responded, “Hineni.”

In these episodes, Abraham and Moses emerged transformed. And so it is with the chazzan on these most sacred days in the Jewish calendar. More than a simple indication of being physically present in a location, the word “Hineni” is more of an existential expression. I’m not only here, but I’m here. Spiritually, I’m all in. I’m prepared to reflect on who I am, what’s important to me, and how I can effect change for others.

One classic interpretation of dreams is that every character that appears in a dream is really you — that is, we project versions of ourselves throughout each dream. Similarly, the Hineni is not merely about the cantor engaging in a side conversation with God while the congregation looks on and waits.

Rather, when the chazzan states “Hineni,” it is in fact everyone present who are all saying the same thing, despite the prayer’s singular phrasing. We are here. It is we who are impoverished in spirit and deed, and we all share in the fear that our bad choices over the last year might be weighed against us. Nevertheless, we stand humble and ready for the difficult work of teshuvah (repentance) that lies ahead.

And G!d says: "You cannot do the work every single second of every single day, which is why we've set aside this night-and-day in the middle of the Big Week just for you. To sleep unhurried, to eat well and bask in familiarity, because this is where the community happens. This is where we are born, each and every week, where we hold each other. There is no work without holding each other."

And G!d says: "That in the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, everything will seem a little sweeter, and a little crisper, and even the weather might cooperate, and the world will brush herself up and show you just how wondrous she can be, so you'd better rise to her level and do the work"

And G!d says: "And for those of you who are scrambling because the work is not finished enough, for those with lingering, unsaid apologies on their lips, for those who could not bring themselves from Mitzrayim's pain through the wilderness to forgiveness: you don't get to give up now. I stopped making perfect things after I made water and light. There was never hope for you. There is only what you do together. You don't get to stop."

 

From Dane Kuttler's The G!d Wrestlers,  The Social Justice Warrior's Guide to the High Holy Days, Sept. 2015

Looking back on the 20 years since 9/11, what is the most important human rights lesson you draw from the American response to those attacks?

Rabbi Rachel Kahn-Troster

“God has told you, O person, what is good, and what the ETERNAL requires of you: Only to do justice and to love chesed, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

About ten years ago, when T’ruah started fighting to end solitary confinement, I asked a friend who was an attorney at the ACLU Prison Project why it mattered that rabbis were speaking out to end this form of torture; it seemed like the ACLU’s strategy of lawsuits and legislation would be much more effective. She replied, “We have a mercy deficit as a country, and rabbis can talk about mercy in a way that other activists cannot.” She was right: Those who speak from a moral voice can amplify the cries of those affected by abuses until they become a rallying cry for change, a demand that as a society we be motivated by chesed on an systemic level.

The rallying cry of the Jewish social movement, which emerged with such strength after 9/11—Tzedek, tdedek tirdof—occurs in Deuteronomy to elevate the significance of an impartial judiciary. But it is also a commitment to law over revenge, order over chaos. Since 9/11, the United States seems like it has mistaken one for the other. Or rather, we exact vengeance under the guise of law and justice, but in so doing achieve neither. We tortured. We substituted drone strikes for trials. We went to war to stop terror, and in so doing, decimated the countries that we believed were at fault. We killed Osama bin Laden rather than adjucating his crimes in a court of law. Each of these and so many other steps were exercises in might, acts that made us feel safe but did not in fact make us safer, in the process destroying the safety and rights of so many. It takes real humility to understand that what might feel like the right solution is actually unjust and ineffective.

That’s why I love this verse. How do we ensure that we are governed by a commitment to justice grounded in chesed? Micah orbits those commitments around a sacred path of humility. Hubris says we move forward without reckoning with the consequences of our actions. Humility requires truth and reconciliation.

Rabbi Rachel Kahn-Troster is the Executive Vice President of the Interfaith Center on Corporate Responsibility. From 2007-2021, she worked at T’ruah, most recently as Deputy Director, and directed “Honor the Image of God: A Jewish Campaign to Stop US-Sponsored Torture.”