Table for Five: Yom Kippur

Rabbi Ilana Grinblat

Ahavat Torah

When I reflect on the past year, I am grateful for the joyful, daily Zumba classes at the gym. Perhaps that’s why I was struck by a passage I read recently comparing prayer services and exercise class. 

In her book, “Here All Along: Finding Meaning, Spirituality, and A Deeper Connection to Life – In Judaism (After Finally Choosing to Look There),” Sara Hurwitz wrote: “Despite appearances to the contrary, a synagogue service is not supposed to be like a concert or lecture where we’re the audience, the rabbi and the cantor are the performers, and they pray and chant while we listen and occasionally sing or mutter along.” 

We cannot delegate our praying to others like that. Doing so is like attending a spin class and expecting the instructor to pedal for us while we sit passively on the bike, checking our phones or chatting with our neighbors. There’s nothing wrong with spending 45 minutes this way, but we can’t expect results. 

Indeed, that’s how Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk understands this verse about Yom Kippur. In essence, he puts a comma before the word aleichem (upon you) in Leviticus 15:30. He reads it as: “On this day God will atone, but it is upon you to purify yourselves,” meaning: “You will only attain purification through effort and work.” 

Following Sara and Rabbi Menachem’s advice, may we each do the spiritual exercise this Yom Kippur – putting in the sweat – that will lead us to a Shanah Tovah (a good year).

Rabbi Pinchas Winston

Thirtysix.org/Shaarnun Productions

No one wants to become an “angel” before their time, except perhaps on Yom Kippur. According to tradition, that’s what we become on Yom Kippur from praying most of the day and abstaining from certain physical pleasures for the day. This is why we’re allowed to say the second verse of the “Shema” out loud only on this day. Apparently, Moses learned it from the angels when he was on Mt. Sinai, and they don’t like it when we “steal” their line. Therefore, we whisper it the rest of the year. But when the angels hear us on Yom Kippur but see our angelic qualities from all our prayer and fasting (some even dress in white like angels), they are okay with it. By observing the laws and customs of the day, we become spiritually cleansed and reach angel status, and the angels view us as one of them. That’s all very nice, but what does it mean? It means that Yom Kippur is not just another holiday. Every Jewish holiday has its own potential to help us fulfill our spiritual goals in life. Yom Kippur, however, is unique inasmuch as it has the ability to neutralize our bodies so we can better feel our souls, the essence of who we are. There is great pleasure when Yom Kippur is over and we can go home and eat. But if we use the day correctly, the greatest pleasure of all will be getting in touch with our essential selves.

David Porush

Student, Teacher, Grandfather at DavidPorush.com

Yom Kippur feels like it should be the Jewish “cosa nostra,” our exclusive thing. Its one day of self-affliction, public confession, introspection and prayer for redemption gets the attention of even the most casual of Jews. 

So why does the Torah extend it to both native-born Israelis and strangers — resident aliens — who live there? 

Ramban tells us it’s because the physical place of Israel, the land itself, is especially holy. Even the casual sojourner (“ger toshav”) can pollute Israel with abominable behavior. While only the convert (“ger tzedek”) has to observe the rituals of Yom Kippur, just living in the land, even without a connection to Torah’s covenant, obliges you to acknowledge transcendence in the world. 

Israel is not just borders, soil or territory. It’s a portal, the place of immediate divine presence, where holiness is intrinsic. This is the central message of the Jews, our secret sauce, the creative source of Zionist energy: the world is holy. Behave like it! 

This year, a crescendo of noisy voices in the world, even, tragically, many Jews, deny this ancient connection between Jews and Zion. Yom Kippur would be an especially timely one to remind ourselves, and everyone else, of the Jewish souls’ unbreakable bond to Israel.

Rabbi Yoni Dahlen

Spiritual Leader / Congregation Shaarey Zedek, Southfield, Mich.

“… and you shall afflict yourselves …” 

The established interpretation of these words is that our affliction comes through 25 hours of mindful abstinence. That from sundown erev Yom Kippur to tzeit kochavim after Neilah, when we see those first stars in the night sky, we forbid ourselves the pleasure of our mortal existence. 

We don’t eat. We don’t drink. We don’t have intercourse. We don’t bathe. We don’t. We don’t. We don’t … 

But despite the classic interpretation, this is not the entirety of our affliction. Because when the Torah demands something of us, it never forbids simply for the sake of forbidding. Rather, mindful abstention forces us to narrow our focus, to zero in on something more important. 

And for Yom Kippur, that something is ourselves. To fully take in who we are, but critically, to put that analysis of ourselves side by side with an understanding of who we COULD be. 

And that … is affliction. Because no matter how we’ve lived in any given year, we invariably fall dramatically short of who we COULD have been. That is painful. It hurts. It is humbling. And, if we’re doing it right, it is also the most edifying and sacred moment of existence, because it allows us to start again. 

Not because we deserve it. But because those we have let down deserve it. The world deserves for us to be renewed, to build from affliction, so that we can once again walk the path of who we COULD and SHOULD be.

Elan Javanfard

L.M.F.T. Professor & Author, “Psycho-Spiritual Insights” Blog

Rambam’s teaching in Hilchot Teshuvah (1:3–4) highlights a profound psychological dimension: Yom Kippur is not a magical erasure of sins, but a process that requires human engagement through teshuvah. Central to that process is regret (charatah). Rambam stresses that without genuine regret for one’s actions, the atoning power of the day does not take hold. This suggests that atonement is as much about inner transformation as it is about divine forgiveness. 

From a psychological perspective, regret is more than an unpleasant feeling, it is a signal of moral awareness and an opening for growth. Research in modern psychology views regret as a “cognitive-emotional” state that helps individuals recognize the gap between their past behavior and their values or desired outcomes. In Rambam’s framework, this recognition is what initiates the path of teshuvah: a person sees their misdeeds, feels their weight, and turns back toward God and righteousness. 

Importantly, regret in Judaism is not meant to paralyze. Rambam links it directly to confession and commitment to change, transforming regret from a destructive emotion into a constructive force. Rather than lingering in guilt, the individual uses regret as a catalyst for action, repair, and renewal. Thus, Yom Kippur becomes not only a divine cleansing, but also a psychological reorientation, where regret fuels the courage to rewrite one’s story and realign with higher ideals.