Abandonment and Repentance on Yom Kippur

This week has been a difficult week for world Jewry. We have all been collectively mourning the victims and we have raised our voices in prayer shouted our protests, and attempted to comfort the families and the survivors. All this is taking place in the liminal days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Normally, the yahrzeit, the date of death, is commemorated according to the Jewish calendar, but this year the date of commemoration was October 7^th.  In a sense, this is probably very good, because, perhaps we can celebrate the lost Simchat Torah from last year. Also, since these are the Ten Days of Repentance the period of teshuva, returning to God, and self-examination, it made sense to demand of our ruling bodies to ask questions and reflect together with the populace.

ABANDONMENT

One theme which seems to have been appearing over and over is that the Southern communities were abandoned by the government:

“It was a day without an army, without a state – a day where all we had was ourselves, the citizens. This is what abandonment looks like,” said Jonathan Shamriz, the bereaved older brother of Alon Shimriz. “A year later, instead of standing here as multitudes of the people of Israel, united, we stand here waiting for the next siren. Instead of a state inquiry commission being established to investigate this colossal failure, we ask the questions ourselves without getting any answers. There is no personal example, no vision, no leadership, no accountability”

The word for abandonment in Hebrew is hefker (הפקר) with a kuf (ק). Every time I heard this I thought about Yom Kippur (כיפור) which is spelled with a kaf (כ). The roots are different, but the sounds are the same. Technically speaking the concept of hefker is not biblical, but only mishnaic and refers to something which is lost, mislaid, or property which is abandoned, and therefore ownerless. In modern usage, it can be used like the soldier who abandoned (hifkeer) his post or the father who abandoned his children or the hit and run driver who by not stopping abandoned the injured person. Over our Shabbat family dinner we had a big argument whether the government actually abandoned the southern communities—i.e. was it deliberate, or simply neglect. Was it because no one was responsible, or was it because no one really cared about the South. People cried out: damenu lo hefker, our blood is not hefker, that our blood should not be allowed to be shed without anyone reacting. And finally, there is the person who is mufkar, the person who has no social responsibility, who acts promiscuously. We know many leaders like that. As to our family argument, we agreed to disagree.

THE SACRIFICIAL SCAPEGOAT

And now if we look at the root of Kippur (כפר), we see that it is a very strange root; It can have an F sound or a P sound depending on whether there is a dagesh (a dot) in the letter peh. Le-kapper is to atone; In slang, kapparah is a term of endearment, perhaps from the idea that the one who loves will take on the sins of the loved one. Kofer is both ransom money to be paid when we redeem prisoners and also a person who does not believe, who is always challenging basic principles.  And while I was thinking about all these (not exact linguistic connections), I thought about the abandonment of the sacrificial scapegoat—the seir la’azazel, who is sent off carrying our sins into the desert.

On the two days of Rosh Hashana, we read about what I consider the two sacrifices of Abraham’s sons. In his masterful collection of midrashim about the binding of Isaac, The Last Trial: On the Legends and Lore of the Command to Abraham to Offer Isaac as a Sacrifice, Shalom Spiegel brings many midrashim, which insist that Isaac was actually slaughtered (and then came to life again). If this is the case, then perhaps the rabbis want to make an additional point.  Isaac was the goat sacrificed as a sin offering, whereas Ishmael is the goat who is sent off and then set free in the wilderness. Ishmael is going to be a free agent and he with his mother was sent off by Abraham to live or die in the wilderness–a clear case of abandonment.

Along these lines is a midrash that says something similar, except that here it is Esau who is expelled. The rabbis make the connection with the seir (the goat) and Esau’s being hairy (the word there too is seir). They write that Esau sinned all year round and does not repent, unlike Jacob who also sins all year round but (unlike Esau) does repent:

Isaac-R. Levi said: This may be illustrated by two men, one possessing a thick head of hair and the other bald-headed, who stood near a threshing-floor. When the chaff flew into the locks of the former, it became entangled in his hair; but when it flew on to the head of the bald man, he passed his hand over his head and removed it. Even so, the wicked Esau is polluted by sin throughout the year and has no place to go to procure forgiveness, whereas Jacob is defiled by sin throughout the year, but has the Day of Atonement wherewith to procure forgiveness (Genesis Rabbah 65:15).

So we have two sets of brothers who are contrasted. Esau and Jacob and Ishmael and Isaac. But there is another set of brothers who are referred to in passing at the beginning of the Torah reading for Yom Kippur.

TORAH READING FOR YOM KIPPUR

With the opening Torah reading of Yom Kippur, we come full circle following the stories about Abraham’s sacrifice of his two sons Ishmael and Isaac read on Rosh Hashana with the story of Aaron’s two sons’ death referred to in the opening verse which begins as follows:

 God spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of God אַחֲרֵ֣י מ֔וֹת שְׁנֵ֖י בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן בְּקׇרְבָתָ֥ם לִפְנֵי־יְהֹוָ֖ה וַיָּמֻֽתוּ׃ (Leviticus 16:1).

Of course, the back story of the death of the two sons took place several chapters earlier when Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu laid incense (ketoret) on the altar; and they offered וַיַּקְרִ֜יבוּ before God alien fire and fire came forth from יהוה and consumed them and they died at the instance of God. The sad, untimely and unfathomable death of Aaron’s sons may have been because they tried to get too close (karov) to God, and instead ended up themselves being the sacrifice (karban). Although many attempts have been made to explain the inexplicable, trying to do so diminishes the tragedy. Just like those who explained the holocaust because of assimilation or those who explained October 7^th because of internal dissension, explanations always fall short.  There are evil and random acts of ill will and natural disasters out there and blaming ourselves when bad things happen to us or our neighbors is a futile waste of verbal energy. And perhaps the only way we can react is like Aaron.

Moses said to Aaron, “This is what God meant by saying: Through those near to Me I show Myself holy בִּקְרֹבַ֣י אֶקָּדֵ֔שׁ, And gain glory before all the people.” And Aaron was silent (va-yidom aharon). (Leviticus 10:1-3).

Isaac Abarbanel, the Portuguese Jewish Bible commentator,(1437-1508), has an interesting explanation of Aaron’s silence:

His heart became like an inanimate (domem) rock, and he did not raise his voice in crying or eulogy, as would a father for [his] children; he also did not accept condolences from Moses. For he had no breath left in him, nor did he have any speech.

And finally, we have the horrendous story of Joseph’s abandonment by his brothers, which is in an apocryphal tale directly connected to Yom Kippur.

BOOK OF JUBILEES 

And the sons of Jacob slaughtered a kid, and dipped the coat of Joseph in the blood, and sent (it) to Jacob their father on the tenth of the seventh month. And he mourned all that night, for they had brought it to him in the evening, and he became feverish with mourning for his death, and he said: ‘An evil beast hath devoured Joseph’; and all the members of his house [mourned with him that day, and they] were grieving and mourning with him all that day. And his sons and his daughter rose up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted for his son. And on that day Bilhah heard that Joseph had perished, and she died mourning him…and Dinah also, his daughter, died after Joseph had perished. And there came these three mournings upon Israel in one month. And they buried Bilhah over against the tomb of Rachel, and Dinah also. his daughter, they buried there. And he mourned for Joseph one year, and did not cease, for he said ‘Let me go down to the grave mourning for my son’. For this reason, it is ordained for the children of Israel that they should afflict themselves on the tenth of the seventh month -on the day that the news which made him weep for Joseph came to Jacob his father- that they should make atonement for themselves thereon with a young goat on the tenth of the seventh month, once a year, for their sins; for they had grieved the affection of their father regarding Joseph his son. And this day has been ordained that they should grieve thereon for their sins, and for all their transgressions and for all their errors, so that they might cleanse themselves on that day once a year. 

Today this story resonates when there is so much internal dissension—”brothers” turning on each other, so much infighting, and the collateral damage of people dying because of mistakes made by those who should have known better, and the hubris of our leaders who many think abandoned their fellow citizens.

HOPE VS. OPTIMISM

Someone recently wrote that to be optimistic is to be in denial, but to have hope is totally necessary if we are to continue as an enterprise. So I will conclude first with an ancient text which ends as follows:

According to universal custom, if one takes a group of reeds, will he be able to break them at one stroke! But if he takes them one by one, even an infant can break them. So also you find that Israel was not redeemed until they became one group, as stated (in Jer. 50:4): IN THOSE DAYS AND AT THAT TIME, SAYS THE LORD, THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL, THEY AND THE CHILDREN OF JUDAH, SHALL COME TOGETHER. … When they are united, they shall welcome the face of the Divine Presence.

We have a long way to go, but perhaps one day, when we get out of the mess we are now in, perhaps there will be some unity and agreement among us and all the nations.

Finally, I conclude in a modern text, with the beautiful words of Jonathan Shamriz, the bereaved older brother of Alon Shimriz whom I quoted earlier:

“I believe that from the ruins and destruction, from the hell we went through, a new generation is rising. A generation that believes in us, in a reformed and united Israeli society, a generation that believes in the Israeli spirit. A generation that will rebuild the ruins and create a better, more moral country – a country where truth is pursued, sanctified, and never let go.”

It is perfectly understandable that every one of the memorial services I virtually attended  ended with our national anthem, Hatikvah! The Hope.

To those among us who are fasting, have an easy fast. G’mar Hatimah tovah. And may next year be a much better year.