For the High Holy Days this year we are asking you to share reflections on and/or memories of the holidays. As an example, I thought I would start with a Yom Kippur memory.
In my family’s Conservative synagogue, the Yom Kippur morning appeal was strategically placed between the Torah Service and Yizkor when the most congregants were expected to be present. At the end of the Torah service, a recent Bar Mitzvah was chosen to hold the Torah on his lap during the Haftorah and the appeal and then hand the Torah over to a lay leader to hold for Yizkor. Since the Yom Kippur morning Haftorah was rather lengthy and the appeal was a drawn out process of a speech and the collection of pledge envelopes, it was a tedious job. When I was 15, a little over a year after my mother, sister, and grandmother had died, I was chosen for this honor.
Sitting on the bimah with the Torah in my lap, I felt comforted for the very first time in over a year. I imagined warmth emanating from the scroll and what might have been tedious became meaningful. I didn’t hear the Haftorah and I definitely didn’t hear the appeal. It was just the Torah and me.
At the conclusion of the appeal, when the congregation stood for the Yizkor service, I stood and stepped toward the Cantor’s lectern. When a lay leader reached out something made me refuse to hand him the Torah. In the tradition of that synagogue those who had not lost a parent or another close relative would leave the sanctuary for Yizkor, so the lay leader assumed that I, age 15, would be leaving. He didn’t know that this was to be my first Yizkor service. I looked to the Cantor, who was like a second father to me, and he knew. Neither of us said a word, but my plea was understood.
For my first Yizkor service I held the Torah while standing next to Cantor Moshe. It marked the beginning of a long process of healing and I remain grateful to Cantor Moshe Solomon and all those who allowed me to have that experience.
From the President – August 6, 2020
August 6, 2020 by tbhrich •
For the High Holy Days this year we are asking you to share reflections on and/or memories of the holidays. As an example, I thought I would start with a Yom Kippur memory.
In my family’s Conservative synagogue, the Yom Kippur morning appeal was strategically placed between the Torah Service and Yizkor when the most congregants were expected to be present. At the end of the Torah service, a recent Bar Mitzvah was chosen to hold the Torah on his lap during the Haftorah and the appeal and then hand the Torah over to a lay leader to hold for Yizkor. Since the Yom Kippur morning Haftorah was rather lengthy and the appeal was a drawn out process of a speech and the collection of pledge envelopes, it was a tedious job. When I was 15, a little over a year after my mother, sister, and grandmother had died, I was chosen for this honor.
Sitting on the bimah with the Torah in my lap, I felt comforted for the very first time in over a year. I imagined warmth emanating from the scroll and what might have been tedious became meaningful. I didn’t hear the Haftorah and I definitely didn’t hear the appeal. It was just the Torah and me.
At the conclusion of the appeal, when the congregation stood for the Yizkor service, I stood and stepped toward the Cantor’s lectern. When a lay leader reached out something made me refuse to hand him the Torah. In the tradition of that synagogue those who had not lost a parent or another close relative would leave the sanctuary for Yizkor, so the lay leader assumed that I, age 15, would be leaving. He didn’t know that this was to be my first Yizkor service. I looked to the Cantor, who was like a second father to me, and he knew. Neither of us said a word, but my plea was understood.
For my first Yizkor service I held the Torah while standing next to Cantor Moshe. It marked the beginning of a long process of healing and I remain grateful to Cantor Moshe Solomon and all those who allowed me to have that experience.
We are Temple Beth Hillel.
If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
If I am not for others, what am I?
And if not now, when? -Rabbi Hillel