In class a few weeks ago, we spoke briefly about the ways in which one can deal with their sins on the High Holy days. That is, some feel it is satisfactory to use certain objects as scapegoats for their sins and then dispose of that object or animal, thereby disposing of their sins, while others feel it is important to interact with those that you have sinned against, and request their forgiveness. This discussion made me think about the ways in which I’ve seen and/or engaged in the atonement of sin throughout my life.

This year my Rabbi’s sermon was about the latter way of atonement. He urged the congregation that it is crucial to take action into one’s own hands, verbally ask friends and family for forgiveness. He also spoke about how prayer should be with people and to someone (God) rather than for something. If there is a change that we want to make in our lives our in the world, it is our responsibility to take action rather than to wait around for God to intervene and cause these desired things to occur.

Contrary to this, in my early days of Hebrew School, we were forced to take part in this exercise on Yom Kippur where we would report to the front of the room, stand at the trashcan and say one of our sins out loud. Then we would have to drop either a piece of paper or piece of bread into the trash. This exercise always made me very uncomfortable, because, even though my sins back then were more along the lines of “I’m sorry that I lied to my mom about eating her bag of M&M’s” than anything else, I did not think that they were anyone else’s business but my own, and the affected person’s (in the example’s case, my mother’s). I suppose that the Hebrew School instructors felt that it was a good thing for us to vocalize our sins, and hoped that we would each individually take the atonement to the next step and ask the said person for forgiveness, but that activity still strikes me as unnecessary and rather humiliating.

The next type of atonement that I will discuss was introduced to me just last year in the form of an internet meme (a catchphrase, concept or survey that spreads quickly from person to person via the internet) that a friend of mine posted on his blog page. The entry said something like, “In light of Yom Kippur, I would like to ask you to send me an email describing anything that I might have done that hurt or offended you, so that I can atone.” Although I am sure that he had good intentions, as did the person from whom he copied the post, it strikes me as a very lazy and counterproductive approach toward atonement. To me, it seems that the point of Yom Kippur is to seek out those people who you know that you have sinned against and offer your forgiveness, rather than to sit back and wait for sins to be presented to you. Indeed, for most people, the most difficult part of asking for forgiveness is the working up of courage to ask for it, and with meme-style atonement, that process is annihilated.

Another thing I notice after examining these three methods, is that there seem to be two results that can potentially spring from atonement for sins: relief of the sinner, and relief of the sinner plus benefit of the one that has been sinned against. Only the first method yields the latter result. Also, is simply asking for forgiveness enough, or is it necessary to plead until forgiveness is granted? What is Judaism’s stance on that, I wonder?

As I stood in Temple for the past twenty-four hours, I had time to reflect, a common act during this time of the Jewish year. I thought about my relationships with people over the last year, and all the goals I had accomplished, but also about my Jewish identity. This made me think of our class and all the different Jewish experiences that exist. And I came to the conclusion, that at the end of the day, I am one hundred percent a Reform Ashkenazi Jew.

One of my favorite parts of Yom Kippur is the prayer Avinu Malkenu, which is chanted about ten times between both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The tune is a very familiar one to me, one I find myself singing during the ten days between the two holidays. The first time the congregation sings it together I always get chills, thinking of all the other congregations that are also singing that same tune. However, how many Jewish congregations/ communities are really singing that same tune? Yes many other communities are saying or chanting that prayer, but would that prayer with a different tune have the same affect on me? Lowenstein discusses the traditional prayers of Yom Kippur and how many, especially the famous Kol Nidre, is part of the Ashkenazi Jewish music tradition.

As I looked at the bimah and heard the cantor chant the special prayers for Yom Kippur, I realized how much of my Jewish experience is influenced by Europe and Christianity. Both my parent’s families are from Europe, however I think it is Reform Judaism that has influenced it more heavily. At the services today there was an organ, responsive English reading, and a sermon by the Rabbi. The Temple had pew-like benches, stain glass windows, and the clergy were on the bimah surrounded by lights. Reform Judaism was created in order for the German Jews to not feel so unique among their Protestant Christian neighbors. Again questions entered my head, would I feel more comfortable in a church than an Orthodox or even Conservative synagogue? Would I feel like a complete stranger in a synagogue in another country that is not influenced by Europe, such as Yemen?

But this does not only apply to me, there are many other Jews who share a similar background with myself. Jews are supposed to share common traditions, rituals, and customs, however has the experience of the European Jew and Yemenite Jew grown too far apart? Have the years experiencing different cultures created two separate religions?

Lowenstein discusses the idea of “great and little traditions.” He believes that the “great traditions” maintain the continuity of the religion, for example all Jews read the Torah. However the “little traditions,” are shaped by the surrounding culture, like the melodies of prayers. But I think the “little traditions” are not that little. The “little traditions” can change a tradition dramatically, making the tradition or ritual a whole new experience and completely different from the same tradition in another place. “Little traditions,” are not an afterthought, but create the character that composes Judaism. The “little tradition” of an Hassidic Jew wearing a black or fur hat characterizes many Jews, especially in the United States. If a Yemenite Jew walked next to a Hassidic Jew in Brooklyn, would other people on the sidewalk know they are both Jews?

“Little Traditions” compose the majority of an individual’s Jewish experiences. They encompass food, music, attire, and many rituals. If anything, the traditions of the Torah and the prayers are less important to many Jews than the cultural aspects, such as food. Judaism is unique because every Jewish experience, even if it is within the same city, is different. This is why I think Lowenstein should not call the cultural traditions, “little traditions,” because they play a much larger role in people’s Jewish identities. The “little traditions” are the traditions that will create the rituals and customs that Jews connect to. In my mind these “little traditions” are the “large traditions” that create the difference between a Yemenite Jew and myself. In the end, I do not think my Yom Kippur would be the same without the European, Ashkenazi tune that I know for Avinu Malkenu.