We’re Interfaith–Should We Observe Yom Kippur?
The Hows and Whys Behind That Question
by Tuvya Zaretsky
I’ve carried many Jewish traditions into my adulthood, which includes teaching them to my children. Yom Kippur is considered the holiest day on the Jewish calendar, so of course it’s been included in the list of things I’d like to pass on.
Yet sometimes I’ve wondered what I was teaching my family, and how best to do that.
One evening, as we were leaving a Yom Kippur Eve service, we passed by a hamburger joint. The kids were hungry, and my wife and I had agreed that we wouldn’t require them to fast while they were young. I considered slowing the car down but remembered that other people who had attended the service might be passing by. If they saw my car in the line, what would they think of me? What would they say?
Then I realized the oddness of my own question. Observance and traditions aren’t really about earning other people’s good opinion. They are about fleshing out our own spiritual journey.
Over the years, I’ve walked alongside many other families in their journeys too. Here are some of the things that have come up as we’ve discussed Yom Kippur.
Fasting
In my work with Jewish-Gentile couples, one of the questions I get asked most often when we talk about the Day of Atonement is, Should we fast together? I respond with another question: Why would you?
That’s not to say that fasting isn’t worthwhile. Fasting is a meaningful spiritual discipline. But asking yourself why may lead to a deeper understanding of the value of it.
“It is hard to go from Sundown to Sundown without food or water. How quickly even the strongest man realizes how frail he is in the eyes of God.”¹ If you’ve ever fasted for a full 24 hours, you know that “frail” hungry feeling quite well!
And if you’ve ever passed by delicious food and the smells that accompanied it on a fasting day, you may have wondered, as I did on that Yom Kippur Eve, Is fasting really about not eating a burger? Or is it about something deeper? Since fasting makes us realize how very human we are, perhaps part of the reason for it is to remind us that God is God, and we are not.
Lots of people fast for different reasons. If you’re the Gentile partner in your relationship, you may be familiar with a personal approach to fasting as Jesus explained it. And if you’re the Jewish partner, you may have heard the phrase “afflict your souls,” which was the actual instruction in Torah for Yom Kippur and referred to a bigger spiritual picture (something beyond fasting from food).
But if fasting is more than just not eating the burger, how can you do that? Whether you decide to abstain from food together on Yom Kippur, the more important concern is, How can you “afflict your souls?”
I believe you do that with honest personal introspection.
Real-Life Teshuva
Looking back, it’s sort of understandable that I wondered what my community would think of me had I stopped in at the burger joint. Being right in God’s eyes and in the eyes of one’s community seem to go together.
In fact, part of the instructions for this holy day when I was a kid included patching up any disagreements with others. The rabbi said we were to make amends. I wanted to, but I wasn’t always able to “fix” myself or my relationships perfectly. I felt like the rabbi’s instructions for this most holy day were inadequate.
I’ve heard many people ask this question, sometimes implicitly, sometimes explicitly: “If there’s a God, can we repent enough?” Or to put it another way, are our attempts to make amends sufficient?
The Bible teaches us to love God and to love one another. In your relationship, that may come easily sometimes and be a bit more challenging at other times. Whichever place you’re in right now, considering how you’ve loved other people (or even, at times, haven’t loved them well) is kind of like fasting. It makes you realize your own weakness.
But there is hope in true teshuva (repentance). One way I’ve understood teshuva is illustrated in the story that’s traditionally read at Yom Kippur.
The Book of Jonah
It’s traditional to read Jonah at Yom Kippur because his is a tale of true, though reluctant, repentance. God sends him to Nineveh, but he goes the other way; then, from inside a whale (or a great fish, depending on which version you read), he cries out to God for help.
If you choose to observe the holy day, one way to do that is to read the whole book together.
If you do, you might notice that Jonah had some difficulty sorting out how far his authority stretched and what things only God could do. Jonah wanted to decide whether to go to Nineveh and what to do about the people there. That’s when he got into trouble—and into the belly of a giant fish!
I think it’s interesting to note that Jonah was alone in the whale when he repented. There’s something to be said for those moments of personal prayer.
And it shows me that there was really nothing that Jonah could do to get himself out of the fish (and nothing anyone else could do either). After Jonah cried to God, the Scripture says, “The Lord commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land” (Jonah 2:10 NIV). Jonah’s prayer was effective; the Lord heard him.
Is Observance Enough?
Now, my own children are grown, and my grandchildren are learning Jewish traditions as their parents see fit. But I still remember the High Holy Days my family observed when I was a child. I remember riding home in the car with my parents and looking for God in the heavens—looking up at the sky and thinking, What does God think about all this? (Yes, I was an oddly contemplative child.) I always left the High Holy Days services feeling curious rather than satisfied. Was there more to the story—more to what God had in mind when He wrote the map for these holidays?
Traditional Judaism often makes it seem like the three fall holidays have separate themes. Yet in my studies, I’ve discovered that they’re all meant to go together. Rosh Hashanah is an invitation that says, “Come to God’s house.” Yom Kippur is my chance to turn in my RSVP. And Sukkot is the long-awaited party.
But if that RSVP depends on my own level of observance, what can I do to make sure it’s turned in correctly? Fasting for one day is challenge enough, and I know I can’t “afflict my soul” enough to accomplish forgiveness. Are our invitations halted before the party’s even begun?
God’s Promise
When the initial instructions for the Day of Atonement were given, the Jewish people were living in the desert. God was at the center of the encampment. In fact, God promised that in the Temple, His own presence would “appear in the cloud over the atonement cover” (Leviticus 16:2 NIV). A normal person would have a little bit of fear attached to that!
And yet, God wants to know and be known by His people. That’s what living in the desert was all about—and that’s what the invitation given at Rosh Hashanah meant. It’s the same invitation that Jonah was given inside the fish.
The Day of Atonement talks about sin and repentance. And though I did teach my children the traditions of our Jewish people, I never wanted them to think that fixing their sin depended on them—that’s too great a burden to bear.
But rather, I’ve tried to teach them these words from King David:
For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. (Psalm 103:11–12 ESV)
I think that is the meaning of Yom Kippur. It’s more than our choice not to eat a hamburger, more than an expression of our faith, or our repentance, or our observance. The promise that God would be with us, and that He alone would take away our sin—that’s an expression of His steadfast love for us.
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End Notes
Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins, ed., Yom Kippur Readings: Inspiration, Information and Contemplation (Woodstock: Jewish Lights, 2010), 3.