A Day Like A Funeral

I had the opportunity this year to attend some of the most moving and beautiful Yom Kippur services I have ever experienced. The Chazzan (cantor) who led most of the prayers and did all the Torah chanting is Yemenite, using his Yemen melodies and that incredible breaking sort of vocals that are the earmark of Middle Eastern music and prayer. It was hauntingly beautiful and incredibly moving, touching the deepest part of my soul.

Oh, make no mistake... Yom Kippur is, in a word, a grueling day. It is the holiest and most somber day in the Jewish year. The services are very long. In essence, it is nearly 25 hours of fasting and praying with only a break for sleeping through the night. For example, Tuesday night's service was about 3 hours, Wednesday morning's service began at 8am and didn't take a break until 1:30pm. The afternoon service began at 2:30pm, followed directly by the evening final service at 4:30pm until sunset around 7pm. All while fasting. It's not an easy day to get through, nor is it supposed to be.

A few people have wondered what greetings to make, and referred to Yom Kippur as a "holiday." I am very careful never to use the word holiday in reference to any of the High Holy Days, because they are HOLY days, not holidays. Holiday implies a celebration and fun, and the High Holy Days are more serious than that. They are special days to be observed. They are different from a celebratory holiday like our other holidays. Which is why we call them High Holy Days.

To wish someone a "happy Yom Kippur" or to "enjoy your holiday" would be like telling someone to "have fun" or "enjoy" a funeral. Because, you see, Yom Kippur is a day like a funeral.

In fact, Yom Kippur is considered to be a day for each of us to act as if it is our own funeral we are attending. It is a Day of Judgement, and, we hope, a Day of Atonement. We wear white, reminiscent of a funeral shroud in which we will someday be wrapped. We stand vulnerable before one another and before our Creator, and we face our mistakes--both communally and individually--and pray for a gentle judgement and the ability to do better in the coming year. We fast. Technically, the fast does not even include water. (But as always, one's health always comes first, and so the fast is individualized.)

So, what should you say to someone in regards to Yom Kippur? In English, it is appropriate to wish someone one or two things:

"May your fast be easy."
"May your day be meaningful."


Immediately after Yom Kippur ends at sunset and the gates are closed for another year, we swing into building a sukkah, a temporary hut, as we prepare for one of our most joyous holidays of the annual cycle, Sukkot. (Pronounced sue-coat). We go from our most grueling, somber day immediately into our most joyous holidays, because we recognize that we must not dwell on the somber. Life is meant to be joyous. We must face the somber, and then we must wash, eat, and look towards the joyful.

It is the exact same thing we do when we end shiva for a death. We rise and wash, eat a meal of consolation, and take a walk around the block to re-join the rest of the world who is not in mourning. And we begin to find our new normal, looking for bits of joy here and there in the midst of our sorrow and grief.

Yom Kippur is a day like a funeral. It is grueling, but necessary. And it is haunting, and fierce, and it is also, in its own way, deeply moving.

And now, we move into Sukkot preparations.

In the coming days I will write more about Sukkot, and I will also be sharing excitedly from a book I read the other day, Braving the Wilderness by Brene' Brown. It is a fast and easy read, but packed with a lot of excellent information.

Let us begin our fall harvest festivities! Now it is time to dance and sing and be joyful!

May your fall bring you moments of great joy!