Promises and Pardons

Tonight, Jews around the world will gather to begin the commemoration of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is the time of year focused on renewal and reconciliation with others and with God, as a way to set the tone for the year ahead. The commemoration of this holy day begins just before sunset with the singing of the Kol Nidre, a solemn and emotional text that reminds worshippers of the power of words and the frailty of human life. As Professor Shira Billet writes, this prayer is a “sobering reminder of the gravity of speech and the importance of honoring our words, setting the tone for a long day of fasting, repentance, and communal prayer. The centerpiece of Kol Nidre is a confession to having errantly made vows we could not keep, and a prospective annulment of vows we worry we might mistakenly make in those inevitable moments of weakness, rashness, and failure that are the fate of mortals.”

Yom Kippur does not flinch from confronting all those gathered with the truth that human beings are capable of causing harm, rupturing relationships, and grieving our Creator. And yet it also emphasizes that as children of God, created in the divine image, we are capable of reconciliation, healing, and restoration. Wholeness—the meaning of the Hebrew word shalom—is the goal of our lives and our life of faith.

One of the prayers that is offered in the Yom Kippur evening service is also one that appears in every Sabbath evening worship—the recitation of the story of redemption and freedom in the Exodus narrative, mi chamocha—"who is like you, O God?” In the Reform prayer book, these words are offered before the prayer:

Standing on the parted shores of history, we still believe what we were taught before ever we stood at Sinai’s foot:

That wherever we are, it is eternally Egypt. That there is a better place, a Promised Land; that the winding way to that promise passes through the wilderness.

That there is no way to get from here to there except by joining hands, marching together.

The ancient stories of exodus and freedom; of creation and brokenness; of law and gospel; of death and resurrection. These aren’t just tales from long ago, safely bound between the leather pages of a book that we may or may not read. They aren’t just confined to history or great heroes of ages past; they are now. Wherever we are, it is eternally Egypt. But there is a better place. And the only way to that land of promise is through the wilderness—together.

Right now, it feels like wilderness time for so many of us. There is brokenness and fear and violence and suffering, lack of trust and lack of hope. But as our siblings in faith remind us, a Promised Land lies before us. And we have each other, a community of pilgrims, surrounding us. Together, joining hands, reaching out, breaking down barriers, offering forgiveness and grace, we will get from here to there.

Spread the shelter of Your peace over us.

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust.

Save us for the sake of Your name.

Amen.