The Torah uses three
primary terms to define “sin”: Chet [חטא], Avon [עוון] and Pesha [פשע]
(see Exodus 34:7). On Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) the High Priest would
pray for atonement for his people by admitting, “Your people Israel have erred
(chet), deliberately disobeyed (avon), and obstinately violated (pesha).”
Types of Sin
Temple Beth Jacob of Newburgh
Kol Nidre, 5773
Rabbi Larry Freedman
On this day, the Day of Atonement, when so many of us
are here gathered together, rabbis take the opportunity to talk about big ideas
or comment on important issues. We have
a captive audience, only the most bold of you will sneak out before the
sermon. We know that you have to listen. And what idea is bigger than the upcoming
election? Surely now is a chance to talk
about democracy and justice and policies that will make this country ever
moral, ever ethical, ever the shining beacon upon the hill. And yet, try as I might, that sermon coming
from me would probably be better delivered in New Paltz.
As I mentioned at Rosh Hashana, I’ve been drawn this
year to look closely at the prayers so that we can better understand what we
are doing during these hours. Instead of
looking at the big ideas out there, I wanted to look at the big ideas in
here. Back to basics, as it were. I want to focus on what is happening in here
and how it affects our souls.
So let’s go back to basics and ask, what are we doing
here? What we are doing is taking a
journey. We start with great
anticipation. We have dinner together, we
dress up. White is the preferred
choice. My kittel for example. The white represents freshness, a new start
to the year, a fresh start for our souls.
White is the color of the holiday.
We began with Kol Nidre and that famous, haunting
melody. Right from the start it sets the
tone for our journey. We recite: for the promises we made and tried, honestly
tried, to keep we are forgiven. And
since Kol Nidre comes right at the start of the liturgy, boom, we are off to a
good start. We begin with a win as we
start to look at our souls.
And then. And
then we go home and we can’t have that little snack because we are
fasting. From the peak of Kol Nidre to
the valley of self-denial.
We use fasting as a way of denying the body in order
to focus on the soul. It's not just
fasting, of course. There are five
things we deny the body in order to focus on the soul. We don’t eat anything, we don’t drink
anything, we don’t bathe which some take to mean luxuriating beyond the needs
of hygiene. We don’t anoint ourselves
with oils. Some people say that means
perfume. And we don’t wear leather, a
symbol of luxury. That is why I’ve got
my Teva’s on. Finally, we don’t engage
in “marital relations” with its focus on the body, not so much the soul.
But we make it through the night and we come back. I know some people won’t. They’ve had enough of Yom Kippur. But that's a shame because the story of the
prayers has only just begun.
We start with all the usual prayers and then come to
something unique for these days: the
vidui.
The vidui is the confession.
It starts on page 269.[1] You can follow along if you like. It starts with Tavo l’fanecha[2]
which means, "Our prayers will come before you." That is how it starts but when I was a child, it was the ending that always intrigued
me. To God we say, please don’t think us
so arrogant that we don’t think we haven’t gone astray. We have. We don’t like to admit it but we have: we
have gone astray, we have sinned, we have transgressed. The Hebrew is Chatanu avinu, pashanu.[3] Before I could read the Hebrew, I could hear
the Hebrew and something wasn’t quite right.
Chatanu sounds like the word from, “Al chet shechatnu l’fanecha” for the
sins we have sinned before You. I got
that one. The last word, pashanu, must
be something bad as well but the middle word, avinu, must be the word avinu
from avinu malkeinu. Right? Not right.
This time avinu spelled with an “ayin” instead of “alef,” means
something different. Indeed, each word
of chatanu, avinu, pashanu means something different.
Chet[4],
the sin found in chatanu is a simple mistake.
We have missed the mark. We
tried, we did our best, we messed up. It
wasn’t intentional, not the biggest deal but still, to be honest and come
clean, it was wrong. Intentional or not,
it was wrong. Easy.
The next category of sin is avon[5]
found in the word avinu. T his sin is
harder to dismiss. This is intentional
sin. You knew it was wrong but you did
it. Did you not care? Could you not control yourself? Did you let the pressure get to you? Were you just being mean? We knew it when we did it but we did it
anyway. And now we feel bad because,
well, we should feel bad. We did an
avon. So we think about avon this past
year and plan to do better.
And then comes pashanu and the category of pesha[6]. Pesha is worse than avon because not only did
we know it was a bad thing, we did it on purpose. It’s almost rebellious. I know it’s wrong but too bad I’m doing it
anyway. I’m going to say that hurtful
thing, I’m going to take what doesn’t belong to me. I’m going to be mean. I could hold back but you know what? I don't want to.
All together, chatanu, avinu, pashanu means we have
erred, we have disobeyed, we have been obstinate in our wrongdoing. Three words to say we have sinned. It’s not just that we behaved badly. There are qualifications to our bad behavior.
Chatanu, avinu, pashanu. Sometimes we
have erred, sometimes we have disobeyed, sometimes we have been intentionally
bad. Three different sins that describe
three different levels of mistake. And
if we are honest, we’ve all done all of them at least once last year. We’ve all done bad things out of spite or out
of some justification we barely believe ourselves. Need help remembering? The machzor gives us a list to think about on
page 269: ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu and
on and on. We did this, we did that.
“Ashamnu
Bagadnu”, that litany of sins, the list from A to Z, alef to tav, of bad things
we have done. Note how we all say this
collectively not because we all did all those things but because someone in this room did at least one of those things and together we
cover the list. We say them together as
a way of supporting each other. It would
be too cruel to have to recite our sins publicly saying, “For this sin I did,
for that sin I did.” It would be
crushing to the spirit to be so alone at that moment and so we confess our sins
together with friends and family to support us.
It’s easier for us when we can lean on the person next to us to help us
get through it: we’ve done this, we’ve
done that.
We move to page 271:
Al chet shechatanu[7],
for the sins we have sinned, we ask for atonement. Our spirits sink low as we tap our chests,
shaking us with each pound as we admit, yes, we did this, we did that. And then, at the end we sing, “v’al kulam”
asking that God forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement. And if we are sincere, if we really will try
to be better, the Day of Atonement atones.
Some Jewish teachings say that the day itself, the very act of being
here atones for you. Imagine that! Just for being here on this day you receive
for your efforts kapara on Yom Kippur.
Being present, you receive atonement.
Except…
While, with sincerity, you may automatically receive
kapara, that doesn’t automatically make you a good person. A jerk with kapara is still a jerk. Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement cannot stop
a person from being mean and nasty. Yom
Kippur cannot keep a hater from being a hater.
Only we can do that. Inside the
liturgy, on page after page, we implore God again and again and again to
forgive us. Outside the liturgy, we are
taught to go through the process of teshuva[8],
of turning, turning to a new way, turning over a new leaf, turning from being
who we do not want to be and turning towards who we want to be. The process of teshuva, of turning, takes
serious thought and reflection.
Here, then, is why we gather for the whole day. Without outside distractions, with good music
to carry us, we have the chance to still our minds, allow our thoughts to
wander and think, think, think about ourselves.
Yom Kippur is our most self-indulgent day because all we do is think
about ourselves and be honest with ourselves and make plans for ourselves to
improve. And when we do that, we gain
kapara and we engage teshuva and we rise better people. That's what we will do. And so we begin the process of moving from
the depths of self-criticism upwards to a more hopeful, positive outlook.
Look at the next prayer, “Shema Koleinu” on page
278. Written to lofty music, it is a
musical highpoint that cannot be ignored and it will not be ignored because it
is written in a demanding voice. The
whole prayer is written in the imperative, as a command. “Hear our voice, Adonai, our God, have
compassion on us, accept our prayer.”
There isn't a "please" to be found. There isn't a question that is asked. It does not say, "if you find us worthy"
it says, "Hey. We've admitted our
sins. We have done our part. We will rise as better people. Now You, God, have to hear us and have
compassion on us. You just have
to." Our liturgy is a seesaw of
petition and demand. It is a roller
coaster of insisting and beseeching. We
admit we have sinned and we will accept responsibility and make a plan to
change and become better but we demand God help us with that plan.
Of course, we aren’t done. We arrive at a high point, confident with
shema koleinu but the day will continue with its roller coaster liturgy until
the very end. Exhausted, hungry,
impatient, we will arrive at the triumphant neilah service in the early evening
as the gates of repentance close. We
will cross the finish line tired but victorious.
But until then, I hope you can engage the prayers and
their message. I hope, by going back to
basics, you can better understand the flow and themes of the vidui, this
confessional section as well as all of the sections of prayer as well. Our goal is to enter this day humble, aware
of our failings, and leave it proud of what we will do, proud of what we will
accomplish, excited to be a better person filled with the spirit of teshuva, of
turning our lives around for the better.
And we are so sure we will make that change that we demand of God to
make it happen. That is what we are
doing here this day. This is the story
of our machzor on Yom Kippur.
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