The Face of the High Priest

In the years just before I got married, I had a beautiful custom for the High Holidays.  I would spend Rosh Hashanah at home in New York, then fly to Jerusalem for Yom Kippur, join my friend Tamar in Tel Aviv for Sukkot and come back home for Simhat Torah. 

In Jerusalem, I would stay with my friend Esther and we would go to a synagogue called Shira Hadasha, which is known for its beautiful singing.  (“Shira Hadasha” means “a new song.”) The highlight of Yom Kippur always came in the middle of the afternoon.  The traditional liturgy takes us back in time to imagine what happened in the Temple on Yom Kippur as the High Priest did his work to effect forgiveness for the people.  It was a terrifying experience for the High Priest.  So much responsibility rested on him and if he made a mistake, he could pay for it with his own life.  So when he emerged from the Holy of Holies in one piece, his face showed the power and the beauty of what he had gone through. 

In many traditional congregations, there is a piyyut, a liturgical poem, about this moment when the High Priest emerged.  Mareh Kohen offers an alphabetical list of metaphors for how the High Priest looked.  The metaphors are just beautiful:  like a rainbow in the clouds, like a rose in a delightful garden, like the morning star on the eastern horizon, like the tenderness on a bridegroom’s face, like a candle shining in the window.

At Shira Hadasha this piyyut is a catalyst for ecstatic joy.  The women in particular jump to their feet and dance, clapping their hands and whirling.  They sing with their own faces shining.  How glorious!  Joy is possible!  Forgiveness is possible!  In some ways, even more than Ne’ilah, the powerful conclusion to Yom Kippur, this piyyut captures the essence of the day.

Alas, most non-traditional congregations don’t include this song.  Many don’t even include the description of the Temple service.  It is hard to relate to: the role of the High Priest, the animal sacrifices, the specific detail of the ritual.  We Jews have not had a temple for almost 2,000 years.  A lot has happened and changed during those two millennia.  Most Jews have left the experience of a Temple far behind.

But Yom Kippur can give us a glimpse at what we have lost.  A temple is a place where pilgrims go to experience something surprising, something mysterious, something sacred.  And isn’t that what so many of us are yearning for now?  In a world that is so fragmented, so seemingly out of control, it would be so wonderful to see that rainbow in the clouds, the tenderness in the other’s face, the candle in the window welcoming us home.  It would be so wonderful to remember that joy is possible and so is forgiveness.

This Yom Kippur may it be so.  Gmar chatimah tovah - may we all be sealed for blessing and sweetness in the Book of Life.