[Congressional Record Volume 166, Number 171 (Thursday, October 1, 2020)]
[Senate]
[Pages S6021-S6022]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                               YOM KIPPUR

  Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, Rabbi Michael Cohen is a longtime friend of 
Marcelle and me. He occasionally sends me a Sunday sermon, which I 
thoroughly enjoy and share with family members. Following a week of 
mourning the passing of Justice Ginsburg, it was comforting to have 
this sermon to read after church this last Sunday.
  I ask unanimous consent that this sermon be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

               [From the Jerusalem Post, Sept. 24, 2020]

                        The Echoes of Yom Kippur

                      (By Rabbi Michael M. Cohen)

       When the gates of heaven close during the Ne'ila service of 
     Yom Kippur, many of us put the avodah, the work, of Yom 
     Kippur behind us. But that is an illusion. As the expression 
     goes, when one door closes, another opens.
       Commentating on the Kol Nidre service at the beginning of 
     Yom Kippur, when the gates are open wide, Rabbi Max Arzt 
     teaches the goal of Yom Kippur is, ``to lessen the distance 
     between what we are and what we ought to be.''
       If the long day of introspection has worked, then at Ne'ila 
     those gates close on who we were and open to a lighter, 
     better and more refined version of who we are.
       But that too is an illusion. It is a fleeting moment of 
     personal triumph. Like the sunset that gives way to the 
     night, the dawn to the morning, the moon and its phases, the 
     high tide and the low tide; stasis is not derech haolam, the 
     way of the world.
       Each morning the siddur, the prayer book, reminds us, ``Day 
     after day You renew creation.'' In that unfolding story we 
     are, truth be told, composed of stardust. Most of the 
     elements of our bodies originated in stars and the Big Bang.
       Like the rest of the universe, our course is one of 
     continual renewal. Yom Kippur highlights that awareness and 
     the work we began on Rosh Hodesh Elul, the beginning of the 
     month of Elul, 40 days earlier. Our work reaches a higher 
     level on Rosh Hashanah and the Ten Days of Repentance, aseret 
     yomei teshuva, culminating with Yom Kippur.
       Those 40 days parallel the period when Moses returned to 
     Mount Sinai to receive the second set of tablets following 
     the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses, Moshe rabbeinu, Moses 
     our teacher, literally models teshuva, repentance, return, 
     when after the first tablets lay shattered at his feet he 
     turned around and returned to once again climb Mount Sinai.
       We are no different, as the echo of Yom Kippur is always 
     with us, pushing us to climb the mountain all year long. Yom 
     Kippur Katan, the small Yom Kippur, observed by some in most 
     months on the day preceding Rosh Hodesh, is one of those 
     echoes. It includes a daylight-hours' fast and special 
     liturgy.
       Rabbi Shefa Gold elucidates the origins of Yom Kippur 
     Katan, teaching, ``Kabbalists were moon watchers. The lenses 
     through which they gazed were intensely focused on issues of 
     exile and redemption. And so as the moon waned, the exile of 
     the Shechina (the Divine Presence) was noted and mourned.
       With the moon's return came the celebration of the miracle 
     of redemption, a redemption that could be tasted and known 
     but briefly before the cycle of exile continued. They based 
     their custom on a legend that was recorded in the Babylonian 
     Talmud in which God says to Israel, ``Bring atonement upon me 
     for making the moon smaller.'' (Hullin 60b) THAT EPISODE in 
     the Talmud is fascinating in and of itself. There God admits 
     after God made the moon smaller than the sun that God had 
     wronged the moon, and because of that God needed to do 
     teshuva! Implied within that radical text: If God can admit 
     to wrongdoing and address transgression, who are we not to?
       In addition to Yom Kippur Katan, another echo of Yom Kippur 
     is the sixth paragraph of the weekday Amidah prayer. There we 
     say the confessional selach lanu, forgive us, in the same 
     manner that we say the confessional prayers ashamnu and al 
     chet of Yom Kippur. Interspersed within the al chet Yom 
     Kippur liturgy itself we also say selach lanu as we do during 
     the rest of the year: ``Ve'al kulam eloha selichot selach 
     lanu. Mechal lanu. Kaper lanu,'' And for them all, God of 
     forgiveness, please forgive, pardon us, help us atone.'' The 
     selach lanu paragraph follows the fourth and fifth paragraphs 
     of the Amidah. We first ask for binah, understanding, 
     including self-understanding, so we can ask in the next 
     prayer for help with teshuvah, repentance. There is a logic 
     within the order of the Amidah: first self-understanding 
     followed by repentance, and only then forgiveness.
       Three times a day the weekday Amidah is said. This means 
     three times a day--evening, morning, and afternoon--we ask 
     for forgiveness. In Judaism there is the concept of not 
     saying a bracha levatala, a blessing whose purpose is not 
     going to be fulfilled. This means that when we ask for 
     forgiveness throughout the day there is the implied 
     understanding, since we can't say the bracha in vain, that we 
     did something wrong in the morning, afternoon and evening.
       For some this is proof Judaism is a religion of guilt. 
     Rabbi Art Green teaches the opposite when he says that 
     Judaism is actually about guilt relief. This system provides 
     us precious moments throughout the day to check in with 
     ourselves and recalibrate as needed.
       Elaborating, Rabbi Daniel Kamesar, z''l (of blessed 
     memory), looks to the past daily sacrificial system of the 
     Temple in Jerusalem as a model for that guilt relief when we 
     would bring a chatat or an asham offering as expiation for 
     our wrong choices, for missing the mark. Watching the smoke 
     rise heavenly could be a cathartic, like watching the 
     breadcrumbs of the Tashlich service float downstream away 
     from us.
       ``Burn it up and let it go,'' Daniel points out. ``Most 
     therapists are trying desperately to help us achieve that.''

[[Page S6022]]

       While we are talking about the echoes of Yom Kippur 
     throughout the year, we also note on Yom Kippur itself we 
     have echoes of the Temple service. The chatat offering became 
     the al chet prayer, and the asham offering became the ashamnu 
     of the Yom Kippur liturgy.
       One of the most profound moments in our daily prayer life 
     emanates from the Ne'ila service. The Talmud (Yoma 87b) 
     discusses the wording for the service. Shmuel and Ulla bar 
     Rav suggest we say, ``What are we? What is our life? What is 
     our kindness? What is our righteousness? What is our 
     salvation? What is our power? What is our might?'' THOSE 
     QUESTIONS eventually migrated into the daily morning prayers 
     of the siddur. In the context of the Talmud and the siddur 
     they are traditionally understood as questions arising from a 
     sense of ``our iniquities too many to count,'' as Rav Judah 
     states.
       However, they can also be read as seven existential 
     questions addressing the essence of our lives. We start by 
     asking, ``What are we?'' The ultimate question, but in some 
     ways too immense to answer, and so we fine tune and arrive 
     at, ``What is our life?'' That is to say, what do we do with 
     our lives, this precious gift? We want to define who we are. 
     To answer that question, we realize our lives are measured by 
     how we treat others, and so we ask, ``What is our kindness?'' 
     and ``What is our righteousness?'' In other words, what care 
     and consideration do we bring to others, and in a broader 
     social reach, how do we strengthen justice in our communities 
     and the world?
       Our lives are also measured and grounded by our inner 
     spiritual lives, and so we ask, ``What is our salvation?'' 
     Answering and living by the answers to these questions takes 
     energy, and so we conclude by asking, ``What is our power? 
     What is our might?''
       While they are the final questions, they are both 
     cautionary, giving us pause to think how we use our strength 
     and efficacy while at the same time reminding us that we have 
     agency.
       There is another lesson with these questions. Only the 
     first two actually appear in the Talmud. As the scholar of 
     Jewish liturgy Lawrence Hoffman points out, ``Frequently, 
     prayers were ad libbed. They began with a starting point, 
     like Mah anu? Mah chayeinu? What are we? What is our life? 
     But they then moved in whatever direction the prayer leader 
     preferred. It could be made up on the spot. What was done one 
     year would not have been the same as in later years. There 
     were no ``right'' and ``wrong'' as we think of them.
       ``Right'' was just making up the prayer and delivering it 
     on the proper theme, with, ideally, some biblical texts to 
     support the idea. Congregants would recognize the biblical 
     support and nod in recognition. So the Talmudic writer of 
     this section might have had his own practice in mind, or no 
     practice in mind at all, other than the idea that we start 
     with the citation in question, and then develop the theme in 
     a way that makes sense at the time.
       Such a process invites us to go deeper than the printed 
     words on the page of the siddur. It asks us to drink from the 
     essence of its message. What a liberating, creative, 
     empowering approach; an approach with immense responsibility 
     as well.
       Ne'ila metaphorically suggests the gates of heaven close at 
     the end of Yom Kippur, while at the same time we remember 
     those daily Yom Kippur touch points and messages throughout 
     the year. They remind us throughout the year that we always 
     have the gift and opportunity to improve who we are, as well 
     as to repair our shared world.

                          ____________________