Kol Nidre 5784

One day in 1965, on his way back from Israel, the American Jewish writer Hugh Nissenson found himself stuck at Heathrow Airport. At the time, Nissenson was working as a correspondent and a translator, so he thought he could make good use of the time at his disposal reading some newly published Hebrew books.

Sitting next to Hugh Nissenson in the waiting room, a priest from a rural British parish was on his way to some convention in the States. This British priest was fascinated by the Hebrew publications the American Jewish intellectual was reading. He was desperate to have a conversation, which could lead (he hoped) to the conquest of a new soul.

But Hugh Nissenson was not interested in that kind of conversation. So the dialogue went something like this.

“Sorry if I disturb you… but I have noticed the book you are reading… and I have to ask… is this… Hebrew?”

“Yeah, Father. It is; it’s Hebrew”.

“And you can read Hebrew because … you are…?”

“I am a Jew. I just spent a few months in a Kibbutz in the Galilee.”

“Oh…” said the priest with a tone of -somehow- admiration. “Oh please, can I ask you, please… can you tell me something in the language of Jesus?”

Nissenson was interested in what he was reading and had no time for interfaith dialogue. So he replied with the most famous of the Hebrew words. “Amen, Father.” Then, he was eventually free to return to his reading.

Hugh Nissensson had been blunt and perhaps rude in defending his personal space. That’s unsurprising for an American Jew born and raised in the Bronx. But he had a point. Amen IS the most famous Hebrew word.

We say it every time we pray and open the prayer book even if it not printed there. It is also an interjection that expresses support and good wishes. It stands for “May it be so!” “Amen, selah!” is the same as for Hazak uBarukh [that’s Sephardi] or Yesher koach! [Ashkenazi] or Shkoyach! [British]

We will say Amen many times this evening and even more tomorrow. But have we ever considered what the word Amen means? Amen comes from the word emunah, which we often translate as “Faith”.

But it is a misleading transition. Having emunah doesn’t mean faith in something we can not see, like God or the afterlife. It’s more deep, profound, and nuanced. Emunah means truth, loyalty, strength, steadfastness, commitment, acceptance… and the list is not over.

The concept that derives from words like Amen! and emunah is ne’emanut. And this evening, before we venture on a series of services during which we will say Amen many times, I want to explore with you what it means to live a life of ne’emanut. Having ne’emanut means valuing things not because they are true or false but because of love and respect for those who passed them to us.

We are ne’emanim to our parents, for example. We listen to them in a singular and particular way. Our relationship with our parents is unique. And so is the relationship of our parents with us. Our parents address a minimal and particular audience when they speak to us. To be ne’eman is to listen carefully, lovingly and steadfastly. To be ne’eman means to receive something unique from the other party.

There is commitment in ne’emanut. Relationships shaped by ne’emanut go beyond enjoying each other company. And, of course, one can experience ne’emanut beyond the family, in the relationship with God, with Israel, with our fellow citizens, and with our fellow Jews.

In the contemporary world, we are taught that we have rights as human beings because we belong to an abstract entity called “humanity”. And we know we have specific duties and other rights because of another abstract category, “citizenship.” Ne’emamnut does not deny anything of this. But it is also more personal, more particular, more intense.

Consider the difference between discussing, talking about God, as a theologian and talking to God as we do in prayers. In prayers, we say “Blessed are You” because our relationship with God is shaped by ne’emanut. Think about being friends with someone because you share the same views. When differences of opinion emerge, those friendships are over. And think of being friends with someone because you are committed as a person: in such a case, when ideological differences arise, you look for something else that keeps the friendship together,

And I think it is time to ask: how much ne’emanut is in this community? How committed are we to each other, regardless of differences of opinion and denomination?

Here, in Brighton, how many of us, Reform and Progressive Jews, wish for the success of the enterprises of our Orthodox brethren? And there, in the Orthodox and Chabad shuls, how many pray for our success and support our endeavours? I am not talking about agreeing; we are Jews, and agreements are notoriously impossible to achieve. And let’s face it, a community of Jews who agree is a) a utopia and b) a very, very boring place.

Nor am I talking about persuading other Jews to change their beliefs. I am talking about ne’emanut, commitment to each other. I am talking about support, wishing each other further success. I am talking about reciprocal support and strengthening. How much do we have of this? Is there ne’emanut in this Jewish community?

And here, in our own community, in our synagogue, how many of our relationships are shaped by ne’emanut? How often do we come to shul not because we like the service but because with our presence, we make it possible to have the minyan, that is, for other Jews to pray? How committed are we to the other members of our synagogue, and how often, on the contrary, do we expect services on demand?

And let me talk about Israel. Because our relationship with Israel is an excellent example of ne’emanut and sometimes of lack of ne’emanut. Is our relationship with Israel based on expectations? Do we expect Israel to act as a morally exceptional Country? The answer can be yes and can be no. Expectations can be or can not be part of ne’emanut. But if there are only expectations, if we lose sight of the complexity of a State that is Jewish AND democratic, then there is no ne’emanut.

Ne’emanut is a non-conditional relationship. It is not: “I support the existence of Israel only if it conforms to my expectations”.

If we are ne’emanim, we know that we belong to the same family, and like in every family, there are dramas, clashes, and indeed expectations (from all sides!), and hopefully, there are also reconciliations.

Let us think about our life, our communal life, in terms of ne’emanut. There’s no better time for this than Kol Nidre. Because, at the very beginning of this solemn service, we have asked and received the permission “to pray with each other who have sinned”.

It is a powerful statement, the first words pronounced tonight on this bimah. “To pray with each other who have sinned”. It has nothing to do with the -vaguely Christian- idea that “every person is a sinner”.

It’s not about who you are. It’s about what we do.

To pray, lehitpalel is a reflective verb. It is not an action toward something external to us. It is a reflective process. It is an interior process.

The situation is as follows: I am about to pray. And I know that you, you who are here in this room, you are a sinner, according to my standards. We are so radically different that I need permission to pray with you. I need permission from the yeshiva shel mala and the yeshiva shel mata, from the highest human authorities, from God and the rest of my community.

And I have received permission. Now we can pray together.

That’s ne’emanut. We may have radically different ideas, values, and aspirations. But we are committed to each other, support each other, and wish each other success, even if our lives do not align with the same values.

So, on the solemn day that begins tonight, Yom Kippur, I suggest we consider how much ne’emanut there is in our lives, in our relationships with other fellow Jews in Brighton and Hove, with other members of this synagogue, and of the Jewish people at large, in Israel and elsewhere.

I can go on for hours to lay out other examples. But I trust you appreciate the depth and the beauty of ne’emanut (in case you are interested, I recommend an excellent essay by the Sephardi intellectual Mijal Bitton: https://www.sourcesjournal.org/articles/neemanut-placing-relationships-at-the-center).

The night of Kol Nidre is a time for sincerity, a time of openness to moral improvement. We often spend this evening with the people we love: family and friends. It’s the proper time to ask ourselves how much ne’emanut there is in our lives and where and how there is a need for more. I wish you success in this exploration,

and let us say Amen.