In the common perception, Yom Kippur is the ultimate “don’t” experience: Don’t eat. Don’t drink. Don’t have marital relations. Don’t drive. Don’t wear leather. Don’t even take a bath or shower.
For most, the Day of Atonement is an ordeal that we have to “get through,” a 25-hour exercise in self-denial that is even more constricting than Shabbat when we can at least eat our fill and relax at home.
The marathon synagogue services and the repeated emphasis on guilt and sin paint Yom Kippur in heavy hues of gray, with the pervasive theme the biblical directive “to afflict one’s soul.”
And yet, any number of Yom Kippur laws and customs seem to contradict the somber mood of the day: We enter into the fast by eating a festive meal on our best dishes, dressed in our finest clothes. We recite the Shehechiyanu blessing, thanking God for allowing us to reach this unique moment in the year. And we don a kittel, a white robe that symbolizes purity and innocence, rather than guilt and punishment.
The rabbis explain the conflicting messages. Yom Kippur, at heart, is a grand opportunity, a singular occasion during which humanity is given, literally, a new lease on life, a second chance.
In other religions, a person is stained and stigmatized with indelible sin, be it original or acquired. That sin weighs one down with regret and remorse, casting a pall on our faith and future.
But Judaism is, at its essence, an optimistic and forgiving religion that allows for change and for a human being to forge new kinships with others and with God.
According to tradition, God consented to give Moses the second set of tablets on Yom Kippur. It was God’s way of showing that even the most strained and struggling relationship can be rejuvenated, if both parties care enough to make it right.
Yom Kippur liturgy reflects this perspective, calling it “a distinguished day, on which we receive a valuable gift of Divine medicine.” More than 10 times, we repeat that “this day serves to atone for all our sins, to purify us and restore our holy character.”
The Talmud records that “the two happiest days of the year are Yom Kippur and the 15th of Av.” On Tu B’Av, all the tribes of Israel were permitted to marry among one other. On Yom Kippur, by attaining repentance and forgiveness, our “marriage” to the Creator is restored and renewed.
But the crucial message of the day isn’t simply just that the opportunity for a clean slate exists, it is how we realize that opportunity. We do this, in short, by concentrating on our soul. All year long, there is an existential conflict between body and soul, between one’s physical needs or desires and one’s spiritual side.
In virtually all the battles between these forces, the body wins out. We feed, indulge and pamper our physical cravings at virtually every turn, doing what feels good and brings pleasure.
But on Yom Kippur, the day belongs to the soul. Our sensual activities are diminished, if not altogether curtailed. The soul, freed of its physical bonds, can now soar upward, ascending to higher and higher realms where it can express its deepest feelings and yearnings.
Like angels, who neither sleep nor eat, we can for once devote ourselves exclusively to singing the praises of God, dressed in white and confident that our true nature is “just a bit below the Divine.” Such lofty elevation of the spirit is exhilarating, invigorating, joyous.
And what of that tricky phrase, “You shall afflict your souls?” The Hebrew word for afflict — v’initem — also may be translated as “answer.”
During the rest of the year, one’s soul asks, “Why is the body always coddled and cared for? When will I be given top priority?”
On Yom Kippur, we “answer” our soul and declare that today is truly its day, its grand chance to rise above and beyond. If we follow our soul upon its great adventure, it can bring us joy rarely experienced in the human condition.