Yom Kippur reflections (2)

After tempers had cooled (see column below that was not published) I submitted this, which was.

Yom Kippur is one of those Holy days that does not sneak up on us on velvet paws, catching us unawares. Granted, Rosh Hashannah (and Passover) are proverbially always early or late but never on time, with Yom Kippur there's plenty of warning—ten days after Rosh Hashanna, comes Yom Kippur. Like clockwork. You can't miss it.

This year, on the day of Kol Nidre, this newspaper, for the first time in a year and a half, appeared with no column from The Old Olivetti. In response, the Jewish community wept, beat its breast and fasted. Or maybe that was because it was Yom Kippur. It's hard to say. This much I do know, that it was gratifying to be stopped on the street by strangers: “Aren't you the Old Olivetti?” “Yes,” I admitted. “How come no column? I look forward to it.” Well, therein lies a tale.

There was a column, of course, but it wasn't published. It was written as a critique of the newspaper's decision to charge for obituaries, a policy I and others had opposed in its discussion phase. We'd lost that battle but once letters of criticism started to arrive, once the Board of Rabbis unanimously condemned the decision, I took the opportunity to put forth my opinion in print. Editors thought the piece was too abrasive and contained errors of fact. It was toned down, the facts were checked, but at the last moment it was decided to postpone publication until memories were clarified. I was outraged, but losing an argument is as much a part of life as the occasional victory. And, in fact, there was a sort of victory. In response to the letters, in response to the rabbis, possibly in response to my unpublished article, the policy of charging for obituaries was suspended pending a review. It's now again safe to die without the newspaper offending the sensibilities of the Old Olivetti.

Readers might ask: What's so awful about charging for obituaries? The ProJo does it, so do other Jewish newspapers. To which I respond, the ProJo’s obituary section is not a community service and if other Jewish newspapers err, that's a reason not to follow their example. And Yom Kippur is exactly the wrong time of year to start imposing a fee, even a nominal one. ($45 is nominal to me, but it might not be to a poor person. One of the facts in dispute concerned whether the poor would have to pay; “no” was the official answer, but this did not appear in the announcement of the impending charge.)

And how does Yom Kippur heighten sensitivity? In traditional Jewish fashion I'll answer that question with questions of my own. Is Yom Kippur merely an exercise in self-restraint demonstrated by fasting? Is it merely a superficial show of ritual breast-beating remorse for sins? (Here's my confession: I didn't actually do any of those things I confessed to. I wouldn't even think of doing most of them. But, still, ritualistically I rose and recited; I beat my breast with the congregation around the world. Somebody had done those things. In case he was busy and couldn't make it to shul, I asked for him to be forgiven.)

On Yom Kippur we read from the book of Isaiah. To me that's the highlight of the day (that and the special tunes sung only in the penitential seasons, tunes that linger still in my mind as I drive to school, shop at the grocery, walk the dog, write this column).

“This is My chosen fast: to loosen all the bonds that bind men unfairly, to let the oppressed go free, to break every yoke. Share your bread with the hungry, take the homeless into your home. Clothe the naked when you see him, do not turn away from people in need...If you put yourself out for the hungry and relieve the wretched, then shall your light shine in the darkness and your gloom shall be as noonday.” It's thoughts like those that define a Jew as a Jew, that produce a Samuel Gompers, an Abe Cahan, an Andrew Goodman and a Michael Schwerner. Having been oppressed for centuries, Jews have always championed the little guy; charging his family to recognize his life and achievements is simply wrong.

As I sat in shul on Yom Kippur I did ask for forgiveness—Avenu Malkenu, Our Father our King, forgive us for even thinking of trying to balance our budget on the backs of our grieving Jews.