KA CC Archive Sep 2024

Nicole Kidman helped me answer a question about the High Holy Days this year.

I was thinking about what makes the High Holy Day season so special?  Is it because we are commanded by God to observe them?  Is it because they only come once a year?  Is it because we get to connect with God in a spiritual way?  Is it because we enjoy the food?  The family time?  The introspection?  Is it all of the above?  More?  So many options.  So many opportunities.

I found an answer to this question recently, believe it or not, at the movies.  Not at a particular movie, not even during the movie.  It was that commercial for AMC that plays before the movie begins.  Kidman is all dressed up to step out of the rain and into an empty movie theater, wearing a sparkly suit and stiletto heels.  She sits down in the very nice black leather seats and looks directly into the camera to tell us exactly why the movies are so special.

A favorite rabbi/social media creator that I follow, Rabbi Seth Goldstein, took the audio from that commercial and
filmed himself (https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAQ__8sPj3G/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==) in the sanctuary of his synagogue with the words “Realizing the Nicole Kidman AMC theater promo also works for a synagogue High Holiday video” at the bottom of the screen.  With each line, he showed a different aspect of what happens when we attend synagogue during the High Holidays:

 (Rabbi Goldstein walks around at the sanctuary seats)

“We come to this place for magic. 

(He looks directly at the camera)
We come to AMC theaters to laugh, to cry, to care.  

Because we need that all of us.

(Standing in front of the ark, he looks up at the Ner Tamid, which we know never goes out)

That indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim.  
 (The Ark is opened)

And we go somewhere we’ve never been before.  

Not just entertained but somehow reborn together.

(We see the Torah opened up, the words close)

Dazzling images on a huge silver screen

 (Rabbi Goldstein lifts the shofar to his mouth) 

A sound that I can feel.  

 (He strikes his chest as we do during the Al Chet prayers, atoning for our misdeeds)

Somehow heartbreak feels good in a place like this.  

(He sits, as if having a conversation with us)

Our heroes feel like the best part of us and stories feel perfect and powerful 

 (Rabbi Goldstein gestures to the sanctuary)

Because here they are.”

It does, in fact, work because we are seeking out those same feelings in both places. The feeling of being somewhere special.  At the movies, however, you can experience escapism.  You can leave the real world behind and live in the land of make-believe for a few moments.  Not so when you are communicating with God.  In prayer, we are facing reality straight in the face.  We are required to be truthful to God and to ourselves.  We have to take responsibility for our actions, or lack thereof.  We have to apologize for the ways in which we missed the mark.  We have to accept that sometimes we weren’t our best selves.  

Despite this, or maybe because of it, it is a place of magic.  

We can still laugh with our friends and family, laugh at the rabbis jokes (please!), laugh at ourselves even.  

We can cry over those who are not with us this year, or because those we didn’t think would make it have survived or because we are overwhelmed with sadness or frustration or guilt or joy.

We care.  We always care.  We care for each other.  We care for our community.  We care about the world.  

It’s a place we’ve never been before even if we’ve been to every High Holy Day service since we were born.  It’s always new either because we meet new people, we sing new tunes, we have a new way of seeing our sacred text, or because we, ourselves, have experienced a change.  It’s the same reason we say that we read the Torah over and over again each year, not because the Torah has changed, but because we have.

The dazzling images are the Torahs brought around the room with happy children carrying stuffed Torahs marching behind them, they are in the eyes of friends we haven’t seen in so long, and they are the ark open at the end of Neilah.

We hear the blow of the shofar that penetrates our souls.  Waking us up, reminding us of the wailing of our people, calling us to action to be better, to be present, to be in connection with each other.

Heartbreak feels good, because we know we are building ourselves back better, stronger, kinder, wiser, and closer to God.

Our heroes and our stories are not a script dreamt up by someone sitting in a coffee shop, workshopped by movie executives.  They are our history.  Our truth.  Our ancestors.  Ourselves.

They are perfect and powerful, not because our heroes made the best decisions or the right choices or because the story always ends happily ever after.  They are perfect and powerful, because they don’t.  Because we can learn from them how to distinguish right from wrong even if we feel we should have known all along.  

The High Holy Days are special because they are real.  When you walk out the doors at the end of the service, you may feel comforted because the magic worked.  You may feel grateful.  You may feel satisfied because you had the sweet apples and honey and the love and the care and a good cry.  And like a good movie, I hope that it stays with you.  I hope you keep thinking about the lessons learned, the melodies that stay in your head, and the quote that stuck with you.  I hope you feel inspired to act, maybe like a character you met, maybe because of a story told, maybe because you know it will be good for you.  

I hope to see you at Kol Ami this year, but in whichever synagogue you find yourself, I hope you feel, see, hear, experience, every piece of magic. 

Shana Tova
Rabbi Blatt