Atoning during a war feels impossible. Instead, resolve to do better
Yom Kippur offers a chance to start anew, even when you can’t shake off the weight of what’s past
A group read prayers as part of the Tashlich religious ritual, in which sins are cast away at the start of the New Year, in Tel Aviv on Oct. 3. Photo by Alexi J. Rosenfeld/Getty Images)
Yom Kippur is and always has been my favorite Jewish holiday. There is something so beautiful about reflecting on who I have been in the past year and taking accountability. If God, creator of all, can forgive me, who am I to hold a grudge against my neighbor?
But this Yom Kippur is different. This year, as I contemplate the sacredness of forgiveness and the Jewish imperative of pikuach nefesh — honoring the sanctity of human life — I grapple with a deep sense of inadequacy. Despite my efforts, I feel I have not done enough to protect life or advocate against the suffering surrounding us. The harsh reality of loss weighs heavily on my conscience; I know I am not alone.
Wondering how I can ask for forgiveness from God and my community while feeling as if I have not fully embraced my responsibility to fight for justice and preserve life, has taught me that we must see this Yom Kippur as a call to action, challenging us to turn our deepest personal reflections into meaningful change in a world plagued by suffering.
The concept of pikuach nefesh states that human life is sacred and should be protected. The vast devastation of the Israel-Hamas war, for Palestinians and Israelis, has made honoring that concept feel impossible. No matter how many of us have chosen to act in support of those suffering, the scale of misery means that many of us feel an unshakeable weight of having failed in our responsibilities.
Over the past year, I feel I have failed to act in a way that is meaningful. I have prepared like always: Every year, I try to act with the knowledge that my deeds will be laid out for God’s judgment and that of my community. I hope for a blessed new year and a second chance to do things right.
But after so much pain, what does doing things right — when we individually lack power, and disagreements over what “right” is are so profound — even mean?
Rashi said, “You are not obligated to complete the work nor are you free to abandon it.” This year, more than any other, has been paralyzing in terms of raising the question of what it means to own the responsibility of continuing the work. But while we know that on our own we cannot end the suffering that has endured over the past 12 months, we must also recognize that we cannot become jaded enough to think that our efforts should cease.
After all, there are so many more lives yet to be saved. In the name of all those killed on Oct. 7, and the hostages who have died since — including the six hostages recently murdered before being rescued, among them, Hersh-Goldberg Polin, who used to live in my town — and the more than 40,000 Palestinians who have died in Gaza, we must fight to do better next year.
Jewish tradition urges people to do things because they are right, not because there is some grand reward in the afterlife. Yom Kippur is an annual reminder of that mandate. We can’t be forgiven for the failures of the past year. Rather than seeking that impossible promise, perhaps, we must instead resolve to work together to ensure we don’t confront the same problem next year.
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