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Jewish World Review Feb. 10, 1999 /24 Shevat, 5759
By Hillel Goldberg
BOY WAS I IN LUCK. This year I had the opportunity to be absolved of my
sins not once, but twice. Kol Nidre came again.
I walked outside. Everywhere, there was a quiver in the air. People were
trembling. Businesses were closing down. I asked my favorite optometrist
for store hours and was given a very religious response: the hours for
Monday through Friday, the hours for Saturday and Sunday. "Except today,"
he intoned. "We're closing early."
I understood.
I looked outside. In preparation for the holy moment, the streets were
emptying. By the time I entered King Soopers, the parking lot was empty.
The cars, in fact, were evenly distributed throughout the city. On my
block, every space was taken.
One doesn't drive on the holy day.
Slowly, the countdown proceeded. Food was gathered and stockpiled. Friends
exchanged last-minute glances. Messages from the spiritual leaders,
telecast via television and radio, were duly watched or heard, and
absorbed. But everybody knew, what the leaders said in advance didn't make
the real difference. Only when Judgement Day began would their words and
actions really count.
All around the city, people made their personal commitments for Judgement Day.
Then, shortly before sundown, the Super Bowl began.
As I observed the depth of spiritual integrity of my fellow citizens, I
should have known that not everyone could measure up to the standards of
piety, so blessedly evident all around me. It is not that I am skeptical or
cynical. I believe that every single time the people make Kol Nidre
resolutions, they mean it.
But, as we all know, intentions may be one thing, action something else.
The trembling and quiver in the air were too good to be true - for some.
The resolutions that some made at the sacred moment of Kol Nidre proved too
difficult to keep. Even I, long enough a witness to backsliding and piety
gone sour, was stunned by the fall. The evidence was too blatant to ignore.
Near my office, a large plate of thick glass - 12 feet high and nearly
one-half inch thick - was smashed to smithereens. Indeed, broken glass was
spread widely over the ground. I pity the owner of the little black car who
did not have the good sense to pull it into his own driveway before the
onset of Judgement Day. Its windows were gone and many dents and scrapes
marked its surface; indeed, the car had been overturned.
It was all too clear. The initial public celebrations of absolution defiled
the earlier moments of holy withdrawal and introspection.
Long ago I saw other outbursts go awry. These were outbursts for a cause.
Outbursts against war in southeast Asia, outbursts against the murders of
leaders at home. Outbursts against injustice and pain.
Still, outbursts that bent too far toward violence, even then.
My profound quandary in the High Holiday season of January is this: Is
there something in human nature that requires violence and outburst,
whether against injustice and war, or for ecstasy and religion - such as
victory over the enemies of light?
My profound reward in the High Holiday season of January is this: I live at
the right time in the right place. Truly, here in Bronco territory, I am on
G-d's holy soil, one of the children of destiny.
Truly, I need Rosh
Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Passover and Chanukah, no
Denver Diarist
Kol Nidre in January
I am lucky to live in the right time at the right place.
Rabbi Hillel Goldberg is managing editor of
The Intermountain Jewish News.
01/25/99: Bar mitzvah truths
12/09/98: Mending the cosmos
11/02/98: Peace for rent?
