Kol Nidrei 5785

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. 

These are the translated words of the Ho’oponopono, an ancient Hawaiian practice of healing and reconciliation. The word translates roughly to “correction,” or in our vocabulary, “tikkun”. Traditionally facilitated by the oldest member of the family, this ritual was practiced whenever there was tension, pain, or mishaps between family members. Sometimes it was practiced weekly or even daily to prevent bottling up of emotions, as it was a traditional Polynesian belief that the bottling up of emotions causes illness in the body. 

The practice begins with an open discussion of the problem and the transgression at hand. Silence is sprinkled throughout for reflection from all parties. Everyone’s feelings are heard and acknowledged. Then, when the time is right and everyone feels complete, they recite the prayer, releasing each other and themselves, completely forgiving one another before partaking in a special feast. 

The prayer, again, being: I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. 

Although not from our tradition, this short and devastatingly simple prayer, which is used as a mantra by some spiritual seekers today, sums up the entirety of Yom Kippur, the entirety of the words we are uttering for approximately 14 hours together. 

In just ten words, this prayer communicates the essence of all relationships– bein adam l’chaveiro between human beings as well as bein adam l’makom between humans and the Divine. The truth being that these relationships start with love. That inevitably we will mess up. That in real relationships we are asked to forgive one another again and again whenever possible, freeing each other from being forever tied to the mistakes we made. And that, above all, gratitude for one another’s presence keeps our heart open, open to love, looping us back to the beginning of the prayer. 

The Slonimer Rebbe, also known by the name of his book the Netivot Shalom, begins his chapter about the Yamim Noraim not with Rosh Hashanah, not with Rosh Chodesh Elul, and not even with Tisha b’Av, as many Rabbis do, but with Tu b’Av, the 15th day of the month of Av, also known as the Jewish Day of Love. 

He did not come up with this connection on his own. In the Mishna in Ta’anit, the Rabbis teach: 

א ָהיּו יָ ִמים טֹו ִבים ְליִ ְׂשָר ֵאל ַּכ ֲח ִמ ָּׁשה ָע ָׂשר ְּבָאב ּו ְכיֹום ַה ִּכּפּו ִרים 

There were no days of joy in Israel greater than the fifteenth of Av and Yom Kippur. 

As on them the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in white clothes, which each woman borrowed from another…And the daughters of Jerusalem would go out and dance in the vineyards. And what would they say? Young man, please lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself for a wife. 

Although many of us are wearing white today, and there may be some dancing in the sanctuary tomorrow, there isn’t a lot of connection between the Yom Kippur scene in the Mishna and our Yom Kippur today. 

But, the Slonimer explains that the forgiveness and pardon we experience on Yom Kippur induce a similar joy to this scene, and that, Yom Kippur (like Tu b’Av) is a day of opening to sacred and real relationship–literally betrothal–with the Divine. 

He explains: 

And the aspect of betrothal comes by means of the strength of the Torah- “don’t read mesorah (tradition), rather me’orasa (betrothal).” The matter of Yom Kippur is the wholeness of cleaving by means of serving God. As the Mishna says “There were no holy days to Israel like these two days” Because, by means of these two days a Jew can attain this state of cleaving to God. 

The energy of these two days of Tu b’Av and Yom Kippur, teaches the Slonimer, has the ability to help us attain a state of devekut, the highest spiritual level according to Hasidut and Kabbalah–a state of cleaving to the Divine in perfect union. Just in the way that we strive to repair our relationships with our loved ones on this day, we also have the opportunity to repair our relationship with the Divine, becoming even closer. The thing that unites these two days, in essence, is love and closeness. 

Sometimes, however, love and closeness are not enough. This is evident when we look deeper into the English word–to cleave. This word, a contronym, has two opposing meanings. Cleaving can mean, as the Slonimer likely meant it– to stick to, adhere to, or become emotionally attached to another. It can also mean to split in two, divide, make a way through something forcefully as if splitting it apart, as in to cleave wood. 

Each of us has our own stories of when cleaving– as in the act of splitting– was the ultimate act of love. For me, it was ending a many-year relationship and engagement. Our lives were completely intertwined. We worked together, lived together, and like two trees, our roots had become deeply entangled, which instead of strengthening us, emotionally suffocated us both. 

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. 

In the many months surrounding our separation, I was unable to see through the deep shame and blame that covered me like a heavy fog. The stories that I had ruined her life, and/or my own felt consuming. Once the fog lifted, however, I was able to see with such strong clarity how cleaving the wood, so to speak, was the absolute best thing for both of us. That it allowed us to breathe and thrive.

The forgiveness I have had to seek from myself has been a journey. Forgiving myself for not listening to my intuition, forgiving myself for blaming and ultimately betraying myself. Forgiving myself for pushing and striving so hard when actually all I needed to do was to let go. And forgiving myself for hurting her. 

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. 

Each year, says the Slonimer, we have the opportunity to create a completely new and unique year. We create this year in partnership with the Holy One, whom we also get to start fresh with. 

We do this knowing that we will mess up, which is why on this night we nullify our vows not for this past year, but for the coming year. Tonight at Kol Nidrei, we are are looking at our new year of 5785 and saying, in essence– We love you, we will mess up, because that is what it means to be human, you will forgive us, because that's what it means to be God, and for that we are deeply grateful. Thank you. 

I have a magnet on my fridge that I look at every morning when I get the milk for my coffee, that says “Yay! Imperfection!” It reminds me that these imperfections are what make us human, and allow for opportunities for growth and closeness with one another and the Divine. It reminds me that I am perfectly imperfect, and that being human means being in this cycle of love, mistakes, forgiveness and gratitude.

I wanted each of you to have a card with this prayer on it, to recite as many times as you want throughout this day of Yom Kippur and beyond. You can direct it towards yourself, the divine, a person you are in conflict with, or someone who has passed. You can recite it when the words of the machzor become overwhelming, when you want to distill things to their essence. 

This year, we have a lot to ask forgiveness for as a species. War and climate change are just two among them. By claiming our part in it, this prayer helps us take accountability for our part, however small, freeing us from the heavy cloud of shame and allowing us to actually do the work that is needed. 

May we be blessed to enter into real and honest relationship with one another and the Divine. May we know that while we cannot attain perfection, when we inevitably mess up we can take accountability for our actions, clearing the way between ourselves and others. And on this holy day of Yom Kippur, may we be blessed to experience the pure joy and love of forgiveness, of releasing ourselves and one another from shame and blame and opening to the eternal and expansive love of the Divine. 

Gmar Chatima Tovah