Kol Nidre: Taking Back the Past

I want to start tonight with a very odd idea which we find in the megillah of Esther. King Ahashuerous, who has no idea of his own but is led by his advisors to approve wild acts of violence, sends out an order to kill the Jews. When Esther reveals that she is Jewish, the king does not revoke his decree, because the word of the king cannot be revoked, so he instead authorizes the Jews to fight back.

It’s an interesting idea: the decree of the king cannot be taken back. Once the king issues a statement, he can’t back down, he can’t change his mind.

What a terrible policy! How can you run a kingdom if you can never revoke a decree?

It is a problem we also face in our own relationships. We say harsh words which are hard to take back. We take strong positions, and paint ourselves into a corner. How do I take back, “I will never do that,” or “you’d better do this”, “don’t you dare do that?”? How do I take back, “you disgust me?” or “I hate you”? Or “I’m not going to talk to you again.”

Once I have spoken a harsh word, it is hard to take it back, so how do I continue? If I say I absolutely will not go, how can I then compromise without appearing weak? If I say, “I hate it when you do …,” how can I then back down to, “I really love and appreciate you”? How do I kiss and make up when the past is still real.

I want to share some Jewish wisdom on this issue. The three teachings that I am bringing are about peace, flexibility, and the importance of forgetting.

1. Peace

To move on from a fight, we also need to remember that peace, according to Judaism, is valued above everything else. In the Sotah ritual, when a suspected adulteress is put to trial, as part of the ritual a cohen dissolves a parchment with the divine name in a bowl of water. The Talmud tells us, that peace is so valuable that God lets his own name be erased for the sake of peace. Domestic harmony is more important than God’s honor, and certainly more important than my own.

We often forget that peace is so much more important than the content of whatever we’re fighting about. I met a man this summer who was going through a divorce, because (according to him) his wife wouldn’t agree to abide by a household budget. I am sure there was a second side of the story, but the story shocked me: Is getting divorced really better than hammering out a budget? And so many of our arguments are far more trivial: who was supposed to wash the dishes? Did I or didn’t I ask you to put the salt shaker away? We can argue about things that are truly trivial, and ruin our relationship with the argument. We need to remember that our relationship—our marriage, our community—is so much more valuable than the trivial thing we’re arguing over.

So putting my honor aside, putting aside the fact that I may have been right and may still be right, and doing what it takes to create peace. If I have hurt someone’s feelings, even if they were oversensitive or just plain wrong, I dig up my humility and find something I can apologize for, even if just hurting their feelings. I admit they have a point, even if they don’t or even if it’s not a very good one. I place peace above all else.

2. Flexibility

The second way we defuse situations is with flexibility.

One piece of advice the Talmud teaches us is that we should be flexible like a reed and not stiff like a cedar. In fact, the Talmud tells us, the reed is used for writing Torahs because of this feature. Torah observance is not about maintaining an absolute position, being right and making no space for other opinions. It is about flexibility, creating a respectful dialogue with people I disagree with.

Being flexible means when I first say what I think, I should build some flexibility into it. I should never issue ultimatims, draw lines in the sand that I then obligate myself to act on.

Being flexible also means that even if I did issue an ultimatum, I should find a way to back down, to de-escalate.

Baba Metzia starts out: 2 people (they are anonymous, but let’s call them Hymie and Shlomy) are holding on to a tallis, this says “I found it,” and so does the other, this one says “it’s all mine,” and so does the other. So what do they do? They both take an oath “that I own no less than half of it,” and split it.

Interesting oath: each one really believes he owns the whole thing, so the oath is worded very precisely, “I own at least half.” It creates a framework where they can split it, respecting each of their viewpoints. When Hymie says “I own at least half,” he isn’t saying anything he doesn’t believe, but he also isn’t speaking his full truth. He is backing down a little bit, to make room for Shloimy’s claim.

When Hymie backs down, it makes space for Shloimy to say what he believes, at least a little bit. Both of them start to speak their truth.

Like Hymie with his tallis, to get my way a little bit, and also make room for the other person’s position.

We have a lot of compromises here at FJC; some people would say it makes us schizophrenic, like we can’t make up our mind. One day we have a mehitza, one day we don’t; one day women are opening the Torah, the next they are not.

To some people, compromise looks weak, wishy washy. Some people think you shouldn’t back down from your word, once a threat has been made they have to carry it through. And in fact, the Torah talks about vows, and the obligation to carry them through.

There is a horrible episode in the Bible (Judges 11:4-5):

Jepthath is fighting a war against the Ammonites, and he needs God’s help to win it.
So Jepthath makes a bargain with God.

He says, “hey God, if you give me this victory...then I’ll sacrifice to you the first thing that comes out of my house.”

Jepthath wins the victory, goes home to celebrate...and low and behold his daughter comes running out of his house first to greet him.

Jepthath is horrified, but he knows what he has to do...so he sacrifices her to God just like he promised.

Really, this is an example of the terrible consequences of always following your word, even for the bad, of strictly holding the course, of never backing down.

Judaism says the opposite: it says that flexibility is the only way to be a holy vessel.

backing down shows that we can accommodate different people, and keep peace between them. The beauty of the Talmud is that rabbis disagreed, and they never killed each other over their disagreement. By allowing space for other opinions, they opened the door for a different voices, and for dialogue, which only happens when you have more than one voice.

3. Forgetting

Finally, we defuse situations with the human power of forgetting.

The midrash teaches that every human capacity was given to us for us to sanctify it, for us to use for a holy purpose. The feel-good emotions are easy to understand: We can sanctify our love by loving God, loving our spouses and our neighbors. We can sanctify our anger by being angry at evil, and at our own capacity for evil. We can sanctify jealousy by being jealous of other peoples’ learning and mitzvot.

So why do we have the capacity to forget? How can that serve a holy purpose? So we can forget the wrongs done to us by others. Just as God forgets our own sins, we need to forget the things others have done which upset us, in order to continue our relationships.

In fact, this is one meaning of the term kapparah, as in Yom Kippur. Kapporet was the curtain that covered the Holy of Holies, sealing it from any possible contamination. We pray for God to cover and pass over our sins.

There is an interesting mitzvah in the Torah from the time of the camp in the desert. The Jews are told, when they need to attend to their personal needs, they should go outside the camp and dig a hole with a spade. Doing this they keep filth out of the camp, they keep the camp holy.

Jorge Luis Borges tells the story of Funes the Memorius, a man who could remember every single detail of his outer and inner life. “He was able to reconstruct every dream, every daydream he had ever had. Two or three times he reconstructed an entire day…but each reconstruction had itself taken an entire day. ‘I, myself, alone, have more memories than all mankind since the world began’…and also…’my memory, sir, is like a garbage heap.” Funes was crippled by a horseback accident, but metaphorically, he was crippled by his perfect memory, by his inability to forget. Memory is a blessing and a curse. It defines us, helps us understand who we are, where we come from. But it also can paralyze us, make us unable to go forward into the future, to be open to the present. Relationships can survive only if we forget, cover up, move on.

There is value in covering over history, in forgetting and moving on. In fact, this is what we ask God to do today with our own sins, forget, move on, so we can have a fresh new year. And this is what we need to do in our relationships, too: forget what was said, forget what was done, move on, start a fresh new year.



Conclusion



The High Holiday season is about remembering our past year, our mistakes, trying to undo and fix those things we have done wrong.

In the book of jeremiah, God says “I remember the mercy of your youth.” May we remember with mercy, may we forgive, forget, move on, move forward with compassion, love & understanding.