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A Day of Awe
by Wally Spiegler

On the eve of this past Yom Kippur, my six-year-old granddaughter, Moriah, eagerly came along with me to the synagogue for the Kol Nidre service. As we walked, I was wondering how I could best explain the holiday to a child. I began by telling her that God wants us to be the best people we can be, so if we make mistakes, which we call sins, we can ask for forgiveness on Yom Kippur. I tried to make it clear that sins were not terrible transgressions that demand severe punishment, but rather small things or errors that we inadvertently do to hurt others or ourselves. I came up with a few makeshift examples. "If you don't share your things with others and make them cry or if you exclude a friend from a game and hurt her feelings", I explained. She quickly responded, as a six year old would, "actually I didn't do anything wrong this year; I actually did something good!" "What was that, I asked. "Well, when my friend Claire's dad died I spent the whole day with her", she told me and I replied, "that's so special and that's what God wants us to do but we sometimes do make mistakes and we can be forgiven on Yom Kippur.

I intentionally wore sneakers that evening, as the custom commands. She noticed them and asked, "Pampa, she couldn't say grandpa as a baby and the nickname stuck, "why aren't you wearing regular shoes?" So I went on to explain the Mitzvot of the day. "Just like when you play a game, there are rules to obey; the same for Jewish holidays. On Yom Kippur, the first rule is that we have to fast." What's fasting?” she promptly asked. "Fasting is not eating for the whole day". Since Moriah is a picky eater she quickly replied, "couldn't I fast too?" "No, honey, fasting is for adults. We also can't bathe or perfume ourselves and, of course, she was hoping that it would apply to her too. And, of course, we're not supposed to wear leather shoes. I thought it wise not to mention the fourth rule.

Flashbacks of Yom Kippurs past flashed before my eyes, as the cantor chanted the Kol Nidre. I recalled many twilight afternoons at the Neilah (closing) service with its musty aroma of stale breath and the awesome glow of serenity that arose after the hunger withered. Fasting provides us with another kind of nourishment, a spiritual nurturing. The exclusion of food induces both physical cleansing and spiritual purification. I remembered how, with their last ounce of strength, the entire community stood and pleaded; some in tears, throughout the confession of sins for forgiveness. Somehow we knew that with the light of God shining upon us we will learn to see our shattered conduct more clearly. We will receive the guidance necessary to rectify our wrongdoings and the will to make the right choices in the year ahead. I reminisced how the entire congregation "afflicted their souls" by denying their physical needs in order to turn away from the their everyday concerns and towards the dimension of spirit. It was clear that we made T'shuvah, that we turned in the direction of the Source of, not only for forgiveness, but healing, creativity and love.

I couldn't exactly tell Moriah the version from the Machzor (the High Holiday prayerbook) that God sits on a heavenly throne and looks down upon us, appraises our behavior and decides "who shall live and who shall die." How can I make this Yom Kippur meaningful, I pondered, to my six-year-old granddaughter? You can't explain to little kids what adults have experienced, so I continued as we returned from the synagogue, "We don't have to wait for another whole year to pass before we celebrate Yom Kippur again. Many people, before going to bed, say prayers and some take some time to review the events of the day, thinking about those they may have hurt or who hurt them. They, then, forgive and also ask for forgiveness".

It's hard to tell a little girl the meaning of a holiday that's stripped of any biblical narrative with only a Torah commandment to go by. I didn't think she would get the midrash that on Yom Kippur, Moses descended from Mt. Sinai with two tablets in hand after spending forty days there praying for the forgiveness of the sin of the Golden Calf. I didn't think she would grasp the Mishnah's account of the arduous preparation of the High Priest before his awesome entrance into the Holy of Holies to make expiation for the Israelites.  But I tell her about Yom Kippur anyway; and as the year’s progress, I'll keep on telling it. Someday she'll get it.