Download Moving to the Plural by Rabbi David Katz Recently, someone asked

Moving to the Plural
by Rabbi David Katz
Recently, someone asked me about the differences between Rosh Hashanah and Yom
Kippur, particularly in terms of their unique roles in the process of repentance and atonement,
what Jews call Teshuvah. Generally speaking, tradition holds that in the month before and in the
days just after Rosh Hashanah, the Teshuvah work that we do is the work we need to do with
other people; that's the time when we’re supposed to apologize to others for the things we may
have done wrong in the past year that affected them. The month of Elul, and the days between
the two holidays, are the time for interpersonal repentance work. Yom Kippur, on the other hand,
is meant to be a time when we do our Teshuvah work with God; it’s a day on which we remove
most earthly concerns - like eating and drinking - in order to fully focus our attention on
apologizing to God for the things we may have done wrong in the past year in God’s eyes.
Theoretically, by Yom Kippur we have completed making amends with our family, friends, coworkers, and neighbors - this is the time when we are focused on God and ourselves. Or so it
would seem.
As many of us know, the central feature of the Yom Kippur liturgy is the Viddui - the
collection of confessional prayers, featuring Ashamnu and Al Heyt, which we recite parts of five
times during different services throughout the holiday. The Viddui prayers list the errant
behaviors for which we are doing Teshuvah today; by repeatedly reciting them, we are
repeatedly apologizing to God for all of the things we’ve done wrong, all of the ways in which
we’ve ‘thrown ourselves off course’ - to use the language of our prayerbook - during this past
year. One of the key concepts of the Viddui is that while it presents an extensive, fairly
comprehensive list of incorrect behaviors that any of us may have committed last year, it is
assumed that most of us did not do many of them. While the list can remind us of things we did
that we may have forgotten about, or tried to forget about, when most of us read the list we ask
for forgiveness for a number of behaviors that we definitely didn’t do this year - if we ever have.
Despite that fact, each of us reads the entire list, over and over again, so that no particular
individual is singled out for any particular behavior; what we have and haven’t done last year
isn’t something for everyone to keep track of throughout services.
Hebrew grammar helps to further protect our anonymity during the Viddui; to really
make sure that no one is singled out for committing any of the listed sins, we recite the entire
series of prayers in the first person plural. We don’t say “I have acted wrongly and been untrue,”
or “For the wrong that I have done before you in the closing of my heart;” throughout the entire
set of prayers, it is always plural, it is always we. This simple grammatical shift serves multiple
purposes. By removing the potential embarrassment of confessing everything we’ve done wrong
to everyone else in our community, it can make us more likely to be honest with ourselves about
what we’ve done wrong. Even more importantly, this ‘move to the plural’ embodies one of the
most significant principles of Yom Kippur, which is one of the most significant principles of
Judaism itself. The suggestion I mentioned before, that Yom Kippur is a day when we are
focused on ourselves - along with God - is misleading; in Judaism, we’re never completely
focused on ourselves. We can’t be - the systems of our tradition don’t allow that to happen. The
majority of our liturgy, our rituals, and our celebrations, can’t be observed without at least ten
other Jewish adults - if not an entire community. Jews can’t mourn or read Torah alone - a
minyan is required to say Kaddish, and to take the Torah out of the Ark. Jews can’t properly
study alone - classic texts are traditionally learned, Yeshivah-style, in study pairs called Hevruta.
And during the High Holy Day cycle, we can’t atone alone. Making amends with others, requires
others with whom to make amends. As I’ve just pointed out, it would be liturgically dishonest to
ritually make amends to God alone, since all of the atonement prayers are written in the first
person plural. The Viddui’s ‘move to the plural’ is simply a reflection of what is so vital in
Judaism - to be a part of a community.
Last week on Erev Rosh Hashanah, I invited you to use the question “Who Are You?” as
a kavanah - an intention and guiding thought - for your inner and interpersonal work throughout
the Yamim Nora’im, the High Holy Days. I offered the suggestion that identity is actually fluid,
and that the High Holy Day cycle gives us the opportunity each year to change some parts of the
answer to that question, to rethink who we are, what’s important to us, and how we treat and
interact with others. I used the British television program Doctor Who - in which a humanoid
alien called The Doctor, who travels through space and time, regenerates himself into a new
body each time he nears what would be mortal death for humans - to give a ‘face,’ of sorts, to this
idea of regeneration and renewal. My wish for the new year was that all of us might, like The
Doctor, change, grow, and regenerate ourselves into an even better person - a more successful
repairer of the world - in the new year.
On this Kol Nidre night, when the individual and the plural are so intertwined, I’d like to
invite us to modify my question from nine nights ago, reflecting tonight’s liturgical move to the
plural. Tonight, I’d like to invite you to ask the question, “Who Are We?”, focusing the ‘Who’ on
your Jewish community. Who are we, the members - and the friends and family members of the
members - of Temple Beth El, the Jewish community of Williamsburg, Virginia? How are we
doing? How have we done this year? How have we treated each other, and how have we treated
the greater community around us? The institution that is Temple Beth El is primarily composed
of the people in this room here tonight. What TBE is, who we are as a community, what it’s like
to be an active part of our congregation, or a less-active member, is both defined by us, and is up
to us. All of us. The group of people who make up that communal whole, the group of people
who are going to refer to the same “we” when I ask “Who are we?,” are the people whom you are
going to stand next to for the next 25 hours, repeatedly reciting, in the first person plural, the
prayers of confession and atonement. Having others with whom to say the Viddui, and with
whom to share the responsibility of it, is one of the particular gifts of Jewish community. What
are the gifts that you can give back to it?
Like any individual, specific characteristics of our community will change and fluctuate
from year to year - the identity of an institution is fluid, too. However, there are fundamental
aspects of our communal identity that don’t change, that shouldn’t change. In Doctor Who,
cosmetic aspects of the Tardis - The Doctor’s time- and space-ship - change each time The
Doctor regenerates into a new body, while the essence of the ship remains the same. Similarly,
our congregation can and should hold onto its essence, while other aspects of its identity
fluctuates. Tonight and tomorrow, as we move to the plural for ourselves while making amends
with God, I invite you to also take the plural a bit more literally, and to ponder the questions of
who and what your community has been and can be, and what your part in that has been and can
be. Nearly every aspect of Judaism, and nearly every aspect of this Holy Day, tell us that we
can’t and shouldn’t go it alone, that meaning and holiness are most likely to be found when we
move to the plural, when we emphasize “we” instead of “I.” As we look as deeply as possible into
ourselves tonight and tomorrow, may we ask questions that are not only about how we’ve
behaved in God’s eyes as individuals, but also about how we’ve behaved in God’s eyes as, and
within, our community. May 5775 be a year when, in all of our actions and deeds, we all make
more of a move to the plural. Ken yehi ratzon - may this be God’s will. And let us say, “Amen.”