Permission was given. A sermon for Yom Kippur

Why? Is it because we are afraid of antisemitism? Because we fear prejudice, that comes together with the word Jew? Let’s face it, in English literature Jews are not good characters. Think of the greedy, cruel, Shylock, in Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”, of his desire for revenge at the expense of the Gentiles. Think of the repellent Fagin, in Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist. He exploits the weakest of the weak, the children. He makes petty criminals of them. He could even be a paedophile… Think of the anonymous Jew of Thomas Elliot’s poem, archetypal greedy landlord, who “squats on the window sill, the owner”, turning the decay of Western civilisation in personal profit.

The racist stereotype is still around. A few months ago, here in Brighton, a local politician posted a video on his Facebook page in which his political opponents were dressed as Hassidic Jews. He wanted to say that these city councillors, all of them Gentiles by the way, were exploiters of the poor. Of course, the local politician has been suspended, and his ambitions thwarted, for the moment (oh, how we feel safer for that…). But that Facebook page was full of encouragement and cheers. Who cares whether these supporters are or are not members of whichever Party. It is chilling to know that in this City, in this proudly multicultural and allegedly tolerant City, people look at us and see the greedy landlord of Thomas Elliot’s poem. Certainly, the word Jew comes with horrible baggage. Small wonder we want to make it different, lighter, less demanding. It seems we scream, or rather politely point out that we are not Shylock, we are not Fagin. We are not Jews. We are, indeed, Jewish.

But, besides antisemitism, there is another reason why we call ourselves Jewish and not Jews. Being a Jew is difficult and requires a certain level of literacy, and sophistication, which we do not have. So, when confronted with Judaism, when we think of our faith, of our culture, of our Tradition, we feel so inadequate. We know that Judaism is a complex and sophisticated culture, that hundreds of books have been written by the Rabbis; Mishna, Talmud, Midrash, to explain what this religion is all about and what our Laws are about. To instruct how and why to follow our religious Law in minute detail and incredible complexities.

But let’s face it, all this wisdom, this massive library, these volumes and books are written by the Rabbis, are quite intimidating. We don’t know exactly what there is in them. When we open the Talmud book we feel lost, we cannot read the language: is it Hebrew, is it Aramaic? We don’t know where it begins and where to find the information we were looking for… Being a Jew is a badge of honour. A Jew, a proper Jew, a real Jew is someone who can master that literature and live a life inspired, shaped by such literature and its precepts and laws. This is a Jew. A Jew knows all that stuff. We don’t. So, we are not Jews, but Jew-ish.

One thing we know, though. Judaism has a lot of precepts and commandments. Some of us can even say they are called mitzvot and there are 613. There is somehow a separate list of Ten Commandments, that is part of the package, but they are certainly not enough. A real Jew, a good Jew is one who knows and possibly follows all the 613 mitzvot. Which is not our case, because we are Jewish and not good Jews. So, we have today, Yom Kippur. This is another thing we know. On Yom Kippur we fast, we repent, we expiate, we pay the price for all the transgressions of our Law, for all the times that we have failed to be good Jews, and rather chose to be Jew-ish. We keep telling ourselves that in Judaism there are so many precepts and so many laws, that it is difficult, or too stressful, or too expensive, to keep them all. Therefore, inevitably, we transgress and therefore today, Yom Kippur, we expiate.

So, on Yom Kippur we atone because we are Jew-ish and not good Jews as we would like to be. Because being a Jew is complicated and too difficult. It is the well-known circle of the Jewish guilt, the source of wonderful American Jewish literature and great Woody Allen movies. Knowing that Judaism has very high standards; failing to uphold such standards; feeling guilty for your failures. It may be great inspiration for arts, I know. But it is certainly not exciting to live by. This habit, setting yourself very high goals, and then feeling guilty because you cannot achieve them, is hardly the recipe for spiritual life. It is not rewarding in any way. It is actually a neurotic cycle.

But Yom Kippur gives us the opportunity to break such a cycle. Remember the first words that were said yesterday from the bimah, just before the Kol Nidre, at the very beginning of the ceremony? Anu matirin lehitpallel im ha ha-’avarianim “We give permission to pray with the transgressors, the ‘avarianim, a Hebrew word which in Israel today means “criminals”, those who have crossed the borders and are outside the society.

Scholars speculate on the origins of this formula, this permission to pray together with the transgressors. It is generally accepted that the custom had been instituted in times of persecutions to welcome back into the community, on Yom Kippur, those Jews who had been forced to convert to another religion, Catholicism or Islam, and managed to be in Synagogue once a year, for Kol Nidre. Those were the ‘avarianim, the transgressors, those who had been forced to abandon the practice of Judaism and were outside the Jewish society. Those people, often with great dangers, managed to come to synagogue, often into hiding, on Kol Nidre, and the Rabbi instituted the practice to begin the service with such a formula in order to include them and allow them to make teshuvah.

Nowadays forced conversions to Christianity are not, thank God, so common as they were in the Middle Ages. But nowadays we all are ‘avarianim. We all have, one way or another, transgressed or neglected this or that Jewish practice of Judaism. We could have given more money to charity. We could have kept more kosher. We could have gone to the synagogue at least one, or two more times. We are all ‘avarianim., transgressors, one way or another. Yet, at the beginning of Yom Kippur anu matirin, we give ourselves, and the community, the permission to pray together. We know we need permission, to join this community of Jews on Yom Kippur. And we also know that such permission can come only from ourselves. It is not the easy-going, all-encompassing, kumbaya (as the Americans say) “oh, we know we are all sinners, let us stick together and things will go well”. No. We know, we are aware, that we have transgressed, we have put too many energies in the wrong, that is in the non-Jewish, direction. We have transgressed, we want to return, and for this return, we need permission from the community itself.

Committing to do more Jewish things, is the way to break the cycle of guilt. So here is a suggestion from your Rabbi. Pick one thing, one single Jewish thing, one mitzvah, and make it your purpose from “this Yom Kippur to the next Yom Kippur”, as per the words of the Kol Nidre. Like lighting the Shabbat candles, every Shabbat, for one year. Perhaps over the last year, it was not a custom, not a regular habit. So, make a habit of it, for the next year. Going to Shul on Shabbat, either on Friday evening or on Saturday morning or why not both. We have a nice attendance, but it can increase. So, make a habit of it. A commitment, for one year. Volunteering with Helping Hands, or at our teas. For one year. Another habit that can be taken up, another mitzvah that can become part of our many habits. This way, through the practice of mitzvot, we can break the cycle of guilt, and be proud and committed Jews. A far more rewarding experience than feeling Jew-ish.

Those family and friends around the Shabbat table. Those congregants whom you meet in shul, every week. Those volunteers and clients of Helping Hands, those are the community which gives you the permission to pray with the ‘avarianim, the transgressors, yourself. This is the power of community, which gives resilience and strength to our faith. The community of Jews.

The toxic antisemitic atmosphere that has been growing around us over the last few months, will not disappear easily over the next few months. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But hateful lies against our faith and against ourselves will continue to be spread on social media and in the media at large. Great writers and intellectuals have been spreading them in the past. The poison is not likely to decrease. Given that our faith, our culture, ourselves, will be under attack, what shall we do? Shall we go into hiding? Stop being Jew and try to become Jew-ish? Do we think it will help? Do you think there is any chance that our enemies forget that we are Jews? That they admit we are just regular human beings, like them? Of course not. Antisemitism is not going to decrease, or to target less, or to make any distinction between committed and non-committed Jews, between good Jews and ‘avarianim, transgressors, between Jews and Jewish.

If we want to make something of our identity, of our heritage, of our Judaism, better we do it with pride. Therefore, let me repeat my Rabbinic advice. Pick one mitzvah, one and only one, not more. Something you have not been doing often over the past few months. And commit yourself to do that, from this Yom Kippur to the next Yom Kippur. It will be an important moment of your personal teshuvah, of your repentance and return. Your community and friends will be grateful for Judaism, the Jewish commitment you add to their life. And you yourself will probably be, less Jew-ish, and more of a Jew.

Brighton & Hove Reform Synagogue, Yom Kippur 5779