אוֹר זָרֻֽעַ לַצַּדִּיק Light has been sown for the righteous. This line from Psalm 97 is said while the Torah scrolls are carried around the congregation. The custom of taking scrolls around at the start of the service is to highlight its solemnity, and to give the congregation a chance to kiss the scrolls prior to repenting of their sins. The scroll reminds us of the commandments and of our failure to observe them in the past year. Of the beginning of creation it is written, “It was evening and it was morning, one day” (Gen. 1:5), not “the first day.” On this the sages said: “What is the meaning of ‘one day’? This is Yom Kippur” (Bereshit Raba 3:8). So on this night of nights we sense ourselves in the presence of the light of the first day of creation – not physical light, for the sun and stars were not created until the fourth day, but a spiritual light that God reserved for the righteous in generations to come. The sun is setting. Outside there is darkness. But in the synagogue there is spiritual light: the light of Eden before there was sin, the light of God’s love through which we learn to love, the light of God’s forgiveness through which we learn to forgive. Arnold Schoenberg, the great composer, abandoned Judaism as a young man. But as anti-Semitism grew, in 1933 he decided to take his stand as a Jew, formally seeking readmission into his ancestral faith at a ceremony in the rue Copernic Synagogue in Paris. The painter Marc Chagall was a witness. Schoenberg subsequently composed a piece of music called Kol Nidrei to express the power he sensed in this moment. A narrator begins with these words: The Kabbala relates a legend. In the beginning, God said, “Let there be light.” From infinite space a flame sprang up. God scattered this light into atoms. Myriad sparks were hidden in the universe but not all of us can perceive them. The vain man who walks proudly will never notice them, but the modest and humble man whose eyes are lowered is able to see them. A light has been sown for the righteous. (Andre Neher, They Made Their Souls Anew)

עַל דַּֽעַת הַמָּקוֹם With the agreement of God. HaMakom, literally “the Place,” is one of the names of God, meaning, God who is in every place. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik said that we use this name specifically on occasions when we might feel as if God were absent. So we comfort mourners by saying “May HaMakomcomfort you,” since bereavement can isolate us from God. We use it at the Seder service because our ancestors, enslaved in Egypt, may have felt the remoteness of God. We use it on Kol Nidrei night because now, more than at other times of the year, we are conscious of how our sins separate us from God. The word HaMakom reminds us that God is never far from us however far we may feel ourselves to be from Him. אָֽנוּ מַתִּירִין לְהִתְפַּלֵּל עִם הָעֲבַרְיָנִים We give leave to pray with the transgressors. A formal lifting of the ban against those who had been excommunicated in the course of the year, instituted in the thirteenth century by Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg. The sages said that “Any fast that does not include the transgressors of Israel is not a fast” (Keritot 6b). Judaism is the faith of an entire nation, righteous and not-yet-righteous alike. In the twelfth century, Moses Maimonides was asked the following question: Some Jews, under threat of death, had converted to Islam. Were they permitted to carry on practicing Judaism in secret? Could they be allowed to attend synagogue? One rabbi had given a ruling, replying to both questions in the negative. They had abandoned Judaism. Therefore every Jewish act they did was a further sin and they had no place in a Jewish house of prayer. Maimonides was horrified by this answer. The converts had acted under duress, and Jewish law does not condemn someone under such circumstances. Besides, both they and their oppressors knew that the conversion was a sham. No one means what they say under threat of death. Such people should be welcomed, not shunned; forgiven, not condemned. At the end of his reply, known as Iggeret HaShemad, The Epistle on Martyrdom, Maimonides writes: It is not right to alienate, scorn, and hate people who desecrate the Sabbath. It is our duty to befriend them, and encourage them to fulfil the commandments. The rabbis ruled explicitly that when an evildoer who sinned by choice comes to the synagogue, he is to be welcomed, not insulted. In this ruling they relied on Solomon’s advice: “Do not despise a thief when he steals to appease his hunger” [Prov. 6:30]. This means: do not despise the wrongdoer in Israel when he comes secretly to “steal” some observance. Maimonides’ generosity of spirit should be our guide. How can we ask God to forgive us if we fail to forgive our fellow Jews? The three people who stand on the bima– the leader of prayer flanked by two others – form a Beit Din, or court of three, since what they are now engaged in (annulling vows) is a legal act and requires a court of law. Their presence has also been compared to Aaron and Ḥur who stood, one on each side of Moses, supporting his arms as he raised them to inspire Israel to victory against the Amalekites (Ex. 17:12), and to the Deputy High Priest and the head of the officiating priestly family who stood on either side of the High Priest on Yom Kippur as he drew lots over the two goats (Mishna Yoma 4:1). KOL NIDREI For an essay on Kol Nidrei, see the Introduction, . Kol Nidrei, a prayer first mentioned in the ninth century, has been, more than almost any other prayer, the subject of controversy, historical speculation and religious passion. Ironically it is not a prayer at all but a legal formula for the annulment of vows to God. For many centuries it faced opposition. Some argued that vows could not be annulled, collectively and en masse, in this way. Others pointed to the fact that it created a negative impression among gentiles, despite the fact that, as was regularly explained, Kol Nidrei does not apply at all to vows made to another human being, only to God. Yet it survived all its critics and continues to intrigue those who have sought to explain its popularity. Some attribute it to the fact that this holy night became the time when Jews estranged from the community – some having undergone forced conversion, others having been excommunicated – returned and rejoined their people and their God. Yom Kippur has long been a time of “coming home,” the original meaning of the word teshuva. Others point to the powerful, plaintive melody: the lonely pleading of the leader of prayer with God. Some say that we need look no further than the fact that, regardless of Kol Nidrei, this is the start of the holiest day of the year when, more palpably and emotively than at any other time, we stand in the presence of God, answerable to Him for our lives. At the simplest level, Kol Nidrei testifies to the unique sanctity Judaism attaches to words and speech. God created the cosmos with words: “And God said, Let there be… and there was.” God, invisible, revealed Himself to the prophets in words. Our entire relationship with God is based on words: the covenant our ancestors made with Him at Mount Sinai and by which we are still bound. And just as God made the natural universe with words, so we make or unmake the social universe with words: promises, verbal undertakings and vows. If we honor our commitments, there is trust, cooperation and graciousness in human relations. If we fail to do so, trust wanes and the social fabric begins to unravel. So when we ask God to release us from promises we made to Him that we now regret, we are signaling the intense seriousness with which we regard verbal undertakings.

כָּל נִדְרֵי Every vow…etc. Different kinds of vows, oaths, voluntary undertakings, self-imposed prohibitions, dedications and penalties. The basis on which they are annulled is that had we been aware at the time of all the facts and circumstances, we would not have made them. Verbal undertakings are sacred. Therefore, “It is better not to make a vow than to make one and not fulfill it” (Eccl. 5:5). From this Yom Kippur until that which is to come: This reflects the view of Rabbeinu Tam (France, twelfth century) that Kol Nidrei does not apply to vows we have made in the past but is a preemptive proviso against vows we may rashly take in the future. Private Meditation Master of the universe, who created the world with words, help me to understand and respect the seriousness of words, for words are no less serious than deeds and may do much harm. Release me from those words in which I made a promise to You that I did not or cannot keep, and help me not make such vows in the future. Help me honor all the promises I made to others. Keep me from words I should not say, rash or thoughtless or hurtful words, or words that create expectations I cannot meet. Grant me the strength to apologize for the words I said that injured others, whether in their presence or their absence, whether I meant to or not. Help me weigh everything I say before I say it and teach me the importance of self-restraint in speech as well as in deed. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart find favor before You, Lord, my Rock and Redeemer. Once on Kol Nidrei night Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol heard the cantor chanting the words in most beautiful tones. He turned his eyes to heaven and said, “Master of the universe, had Israel not sinned, how could such a song have been intoned before You?”

וְנִסְלַח לְכָל־עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל *And all the congregation of Israel are forgiven.*This is taken from the passage in Numbers (15:26) dealing with a case in which the whole community sins unintentionally. The verse, in its context here, signals two things: (1) that tonight we have come together as a community to seek forgiveness, and (2) that through repentance, even deliberate sins come to be regarded as unintentional ones and can thus be forgiven. The importance of the first is that we should never rely on our own merits. Judaism is the faith of a people and its communities, not just of individuals in their private lives. The second reminds us that by expressing remorse for the past, we may not cancel the wrong we have done but we revoke the intention with which we did it.

סְלַח־נָא *Please, forgive.*Moses’ prayer and God’s pardon after the sin of the spies, whose report – the land is good but we cannot conquer it – demoralized the people to the point that they proposed going back to Egypt. God threatened to destroy the people and begin again with Moses. Moses prayed on the people’s behalf and God relented: “I have forgiven, as you asked” (Num. 14:19–20). This became a paradigm for future prayers for forgiveness.

שֶׁהֶחֱיָֽנוּ Who has given us life. Yom Kippur is a festival as well as a fast, and the fast itself is not an act of mourning but of penitence and rededication. Therefore, as on other festivals, we say Sheheḥeyanu. Normally it is said over Kiddush, but since there is no Kiddush on Yom Kippur it is said here, after Kol Nidrei, immediately prior to the evening prayers.