Kol Nidre

Kol Nidre has an interesting history. It was composed during the sixth century when the Visagoth king of Spain ordered Jews to convert on pain of death. Kol Nidre was initially the anguished cry of those forced to commit apostasy. Thereafter, Spanish Jews sang it when they gathered in secret to celebrate Yom Kippur, as they did in the ninth century under Byzantine persecution, and again during the papal and Spanish inquisitions of thirteenth and fifteenth centuries.

We can hear anguish in the music. The melody begins on a falling note that stretches for two phrases, which is followed by a series of heroic ascents. After an interlude conducted in the lower register, the chant concludes with a defiant, triumphant flourish. The chant traces the journey of a soul in turmoil, searching for its voice, seeking solace, yearning for a sense of connection and communion. It’s the voice of Jewish history, tracing the arc of Jewish history. Even as it provides a melodic template for our souls’ journey during this season.  

The Kol Nidre chant has incredible transformative power. Franz Rosensweig was a young Jewish philosopher in Germany before WW I. In order to receive an appointment at one of Germany’s most prestigious Universities, Rosensweig decided he would convert to Christianity. Religion in general, and Judaism in particular, held little interest for him. It served only to impede his professional advancement.

As the story goes, he was out for a stroll on the eve of his conversion to Christianity when he passed by a synagogue. It was Erev Yom Kippur and as he passed by the synagogue, he could hear the chant of Kol Nidre. He was riveted to the spot, unable to move. By the time the cantor reached the prayer’s conclusion, Rosensweig knew in his heart that he could never leave Judaism.

Rabbi Nachman of Btratzlav said that when the soul hears its call and begins its journey back to God.
  Yet I sit here unable to move forward to attend synagogue with my husband and children. In the years since my ordination I have become more and more disconnected from the liturgy. My mind can not understand and my heart can not connect. 
    I am not without my share of sins, I have commmitted them all from aleph to tav and I do wish to be forgiven, I wish to pray and have my prayers heard I just can't do it in the community.  For now I will watch the sun set over the Marina listen to the traffic drive by. Maybe quiet is all that I need to reconnect my heart to my brain.
Gamar Hatimah Tovah.