For the past two weeks, I have been lucky enough to have started many mornings with the sounds of selichot (penitential prayers). Even before I arrived to selichot services at TBZ and at Hebrew College, my days often began with singing to myself the opening piyut (poem) of selichot as I pulled myself out of bed:
Ben Adam, mah lecha nirdam? Hey you, why are you still sleeping?
Kum, k’ra betachanumim! Get up, call out with supplications!
As I’ve spent the past two weeks walking through the world slightly sleep deprived but spiritually full, I have been thinking a lot about how the liturgy of selichot prepares us for the High Holidays.
One of the most known piyutim of selichot (and maybe the one with the catchiest melody), is Adon Haselichot. In alphabetical order, God is listed by many names beginning with:
אֲדוֹן הַסְּלִיחוֹת בּוֹחֵן לְבָבוֹת
גוֹלֶה עֲמוּקוֹת דּוֹבֵר צְדָקוֹת
Master of forgiveness, Who examines hearts,
Who reveals depths, Who speaks righteousness
הָדוּר בְּנִפְלָאוֹת וָתִיק בְּנֶחָמוֹת
זוֹכֵר בְּרִית אָבוֹת חוֹקֵר כְּלָיוֹת
Who is glorious in wonders, Who is eternal in consolations,
Who remembers the covenant with our ancestors, who investigates our innermost parts
Each verse ends:
חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ
We have sinned before You, have mercy on us
Of many attributes, the piyut reminds us that God is bochen levavot and hoker kelayot – examining hearts and investigating our innermost parts (literally, kidneys, the part of the body which advises the heart). God is described as examining and searching, as wanting to know what is happening in our inner worlds. Only God and ourselves can know our private emotions or thoughts fully.
God knowing our secret worlds is explored in this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, when the Israelites are presented with twelve laws, each of which details a situation whose consequence is a curse. The list begins:
אָרוּר הָאִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יַעֲשֶׂה פֶסֶל וּמַסֵּכָה תּוֹעֲבַת יְהוָה, מַעֲשֵׂה יְדֵי חָרָשׁ–וְשָׂם בַּסָּתֶר; וְעָנוּ כָל-הָעָם וְאָמְרוּ, אָמֵן.
Cursed be the man that makes any carved or molten idol, an abomination to the Lord, the work of the hands of a craftsman, and sets it up in secret. And all the people shall answer and say, Amen (Deuteronomy 27:15).
Each law continues in this format: “Cursed is the one who…” At first glance these laws seem unconnected, with topics ranging from incest, assault, and bestiality, to disgracing one’s parents, misleading the blind, and perverting judgement of a stranger, widow, or orphan. Upon closer examination (and with support from classical commentators like Rashbam) we can see that this word baseter, in secret, whether explicitly stated in the verse or not, ties these curses together. Whether the action happens completely alone (as in moving a property line or worshiping idols in secret) or whether the action involves harming another, often vulnerable, person in a place where there won’t be witnesses, these are actions that are nearly impossible for a community to prosecute. We must never think that the things we do in secrecy are not noticed by God, says the Torah.
But if God is already holding us accountable for the things that we have done, if God already knows our secrets and our innermost thoughts and feelings, why do we even need to do vidui, to confess?
For most of us, I would hope, the harms we have done this year are far less grievous than the ones detailed in Ki Tavo. And for those harms that we have committed against other people, even in privacy, we still need to resolve them directly with the people we have harmed, to the best of our abilities.
But life is messy and sometimes there is no one else to turn to except to God—and to ourselves.
This period during the month of Elul through Yom Kippur is a gift, a chance to slow down and give ourselves space to acknowledge the messy parts of our own selves. Not because God doesn’t yet know. But because we ourselves don’t always know until we turn our attention to it. Or because we do know, but we spend so much time ignoring, distracting ourselves, or running away from these less pleasant parts of ourselves and of our pasts.
What would it be like to be a little bit like God, to bochen levavot, to examine our own hearts this season with the intention of being rachum v’hanun, compassionate and extending grace to ourselves? What would it be like to see ourselves more fully as we come into the New Year, not just because we want to change but because we also owe ourselves compassion, forgiveness, and acceptance?
May this year’s work of teshuva include turning and returning to our own hearts with compassion and forgiveness.
May God bring blessing and comfort to all of us and our loved ones this Shabbat.
May all those who are ill find healing.
May the hostages soon be returned to their families and friends; may peace prevail and may the leaders of the world know to prioritize life. May those who are working for peace be granted strength and courage to continue their sacred work, and may we soon see peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat shalom,
Rav Leah
P.S. For those who still want to join for selichot services as spiritual preparation for the High Holidays, there are still two opportunities at TBZ: Sefardi/Mizrachi selichot on Monday morning, September 23 at 7:30am; and the Brookline Community Selichot, presented in the Ashkenazi style, on Saturday night, September 28 with programming beginning at 6:30pm at 1550 Beacon and 9:30pm here at TBZ.