Al Reguel Ajat

The Encyclopaedia Judaica defines “minhag” as: “a custom which, through accepted practice over a period of time, has become binding and assumes the force of halacha in areas of Jewish law and practice.” The Jewish Encyclopedia defines it as: “an ancient and general usage, or religious practice, not based on any particular biblical passage, and which, by force of long observance, has become as sacred and binding as the laws instituted by religious authorities.”

After the completion of the Talmud, Jews settled in increasingly remote locations from the Babylonian yeshivot, so their customs became increasingly divergent. Local customs developed in each location, which were highly valued by each community. The Geonim themselves, who had a strong influence on Diaspora Jews between the 7th and 11th centuries, did not wish to change the local minhagim, even if they did not like them. Rabbi Moses Isserles, in his gloss on the Shulchan Aruch, says that the ancient customs practiced by our ancestors should not be abolished.

«Custom precedes law,» is written in Soferim 14:18. And this is true not only of laws prescribed by the rabbis in the Talmud, but also of biblical commandments. Furthermore, even when a halachic commandment was established, in many cases its practice in daily life was defined by custom. However, a minhag cannot annul biblical or Talmudic provisions, and the latter cannot be transgressed for the sake of the former. In fact, any minhag that violates halacha is considered void (Piskei Riaz, Pesachim 4:1-7). Furthermore, our sages say that when a person arrives in a new place, they must adapt to the customs of that place.

There are different types of customs in Judaism, depending on their origin: customs of each country, each city, ethnic origin (Sephardic and Ashkenazi, for example), different denominations (Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, etc.), certain families, the degree of observance (very or slightly observant), scholars, women, non-Jews, and ordinary people. For example, in Syria, it is customary for only men to attend funerals, and in that country this is a practice for both Jews and non-Jews. Celebrating Pesach, the Jewish Passover, is a Torah commandment, but the details of how it is customary to do so can vary by country, place, and even family. The study of minhagim is a very complex task. In general, there are minhagim that are directly related to a commandment, others that resolve a conflict between several commandments, others that have nothing to do with a commandment, and finally, those that are part of the tradition of a place or a family. But they all have one thing in common: their antiquity. And that antiquity is the essence of Jewish identity in every community. That is why our sages teach us: Observe the customs of your fathers.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Article from the Encyclopaedia Judaica, the Jewish Encyclopedia, and other sources.

In the Bible, in no verse do we find an explicit commandment that obliges us to «believe» in something, for example, in the existence of God. There isn’t one, and there is no punishment for not believing. Some would say that belief in God is implicit in the commandments that say, «I am the Lord your God» or «You shall love God,» but that idea is not presented explicitly.

Neither in the Bible nor in the Talmud do we find a systematized list of beliefs or dogmas. The structure of the Bible is based on accepting the fact that God exists and that He has a relationship with humanity, especially with Israel. We could say that these are the two basic dogmas implicit in the biblical text. For their part, the sages of the Talmud did not deal much with the subject, except in a few cases, such as in the tractate Sanhedrin, which states: «These are the men who will be excluded from the world to come: He who says there is no resurrection of the dead, he who says the Torah was not received from heaven, and the heretic (apikoires).» The Midrash also speaks of believing in the coming of the Messiah and of God rewarding or punishing.

In the Middle Ages, dogmas were a topic that many of our sages began to address, perhaps due to the influence of Islam and the Karaites. One was Saadia Gaon, who in his book «Beliefs and Opinions,» listed five dogmas, which, two hundred years later, Maimonides included in his list of thirteen dogmas. This list was initially rejected by some sages, such as Nachmanides, but over time it was accepted by all, to the point that today it is included in prayer, along with the Ygdal, a frequently sung hymn. In modern times, some theologians, such as Mendelsohn and Leo Baeck, rejected the idea that Judaism has dogmas and that listing them is contrary to what the Bible and the sages of the Talmud teach.

Maimonides’ thirteen principles of faith can be grouped into four groups: the first is the belief that God exists, that He is one, that He has no physical body, that He is eternal, and that He is the only one we should worship. The second is belief in the prophets, that Moses is the greatest of them, that the Torah was given to Moses on Mount Sinai, and that the Torah is immutable. The third is that God knows human actions and rewards or punishes them accordingly. And the fourth is the belief in the redemption of the Messiah and the resurrection of the dead.

We might question, as many have, why these thirteen dogmas and not more, or fewer, or none at all? Salomon Schechter tells us: the important thing is not whether the list is complete or not; the important thing is the fact that our sages took care to prepare it to make us think and so that man is not only capable of doing what is right but also of thinking what is right for each of us.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Salomon Schechter: Studies in Judaism, Chapter VI, First Series.

Haim Nahman Bialik (1873-1934), one of the leading poets of modern Hebrew, was born in the village of Radi, Ukraine, then part of the Russian Empire. At the age of six, his family moved to Zhitomir. A year later, his father died, and Bialik went to live with his paternal grandfather, who gave him an Orthodox education. At first, he studied with the traditional teachers of the heder, the religious school for boys, but from the age of 13, he was self-taught. He studied alone in the increasingly empty yeshiva on the outskirts of the village. While studying rabbinic literature, he began reading about medieval theology and the Haskala, the Jewish Enlightenment.

At the age of 15, he convinced his grandfather to send him to study at the Volozhin yeshiva, where he began to read Russian poetry and European literature on his own and wrote his first poem, «El Hatzipor,» «To the Bird.» He soon joined a secret student society that sought to integrate Zionism and the Enlightenment with the Orthodox tradition, following the teachings of Ahad Haam.

In the summer of 1891, he moved to Odessa, attracted by the intellectual circle that had formed around Ahad Haam. He sought to prepare for admission to the Modern Orthodox seminary in Berlin. To support himself, he taught Hebrew while reading Pushkin, Dostoevsky, and Gogol. He learned German grammar and read Schiller and Lessing. He persuaded Ahad Haam to read his poems and have them published in the first volume of Ha Pardes. In early 1892, he learned that the Volozhin yeshivah had been closed and returned to Zhitomir to find his dying grandfather. He didn’t want him to know he had abandoned his studies.

In 1893, he married Manya Averbuch. Bialik used the time he spent in the forests, working for his father-in-law’s lumber business, to write poems that blended images of the old tradition with the new Israel. Between 1897 and 1900, he worked as a teacher in Sosnowiec, a town near the Prussian border. There, he began writing short stories and also writing in Yiddish. In 1900, he found work as a teacher in Odessa, where he met notable figures such as Mendele Mojer Sforim, Simon Dubnow, Haim Tchernowitz, and others. He translated Mendele’s works from Yiddish into Hebrew, as well as works by Shakespeare, Schiller, Cervantes, and Heine. In 1903, after the terrible pogrom in Kishinev, he wrote the epic poem «In the City of Slaughter,» in which he condemned the massacre, but also the passivity of the victims. In 1908, with Yehoshua Ravnitzky, he edited «Sefer Ha Agadah,» a compendium of legends from the Talmud and Midrash. He lived in Odessa until 1921, when he was able to leave for Berlin thanks to Maxim Gorky and then, in 1924, emigrate to Israel. He was a member of the governing board of the Hebrew University. He died in 1934.

Bialik loved the traditional religious Judaism he learned from his grandfather. He also believed in Zionism, especially the cultural approach of Ahad Ha’am. He understood that the social problem of Jews in the Diaspora had to be solved, having witnessed the tragedy of the Kishinev pogrom with his own eyes. He knew that Yiddish was part of Jewish culture, but also that Hebrew was the language of the future. With the Haskala, he realized that Judaism could not be isolated from the secular culture of the world. And through his poetry, he integrated all these identities into one. Bialik is an example of how one can have a multifaceted Jewish identity.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Encyclopaedia Judaica and other sources.

It is written: “And Abel tended sheep, while Cain worked the land. Afterward, Cain brought an offering to the Lord of the fruit of the ground. Abel brought to the Lord the best of his flock, the firstborn with their fat. And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, but he did not have regard for Cain and his offering. Cain was distressed and his head was downcast. And the Lord said to Cain, ‘Why are you distressed? Why are you downcast? If you do well, will you not be honored? And if you do not do well, sin is at the door. Yet his desire will be yours (it is up to you), and you will rule over him (and it is up to you). Cain spoke with his brother Abel, and while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.’” (Genesis 4:1-8)

Being a farmer requires a certain intellectual capacity and a great deal of discipline, understanding that bread comes from grain, developing the necessary tools, protecting crops from the environment, waiting the necessary time to harvest, settling in a place, and being self-sufficient in obtaining food so as not to depend so much on nature. The farmer is bold and self-confident. On the other hand, the shepherd leads a simple life that requires little ingenuity and effort. The flock roams the countryside and naturally produces wool and milk, and the shepherd contributes little to that. He has no control over the process and is entirely dependent on nature. The shepherd’s life is simpler; the farmer’s is more complex.

We all know that Cain committed the first murder. But few recognize that he was also the first farmer, the first to make an offering to God, the founder of the first city, as well as the progenitor of a line of men who invented the arts, including music and metallurgy. God told Adam that he would eat the plants of the field and that with the sweat of his brow he would eat bread, and Cain obeyed the divine command, unlike his brother Abel, who dedicated himself to tending a flock. In the story, Cain experiences simultaneously: shame that his offering was not as well received as his brother’s, anger at his wounded pride, and a feeling of injustice because God did not recognize his efforts as a worker of the land.

Leon R. Kass says: “The episode of Cain and Abel presents fundamental elements of human existence: a) the first family home, that is, the first human institution and thus the first element of society; b) the first attempts, through sacrifice, of a relationship between man and God; c) human passions: wounded pride, anger, jealousy, and fear; d) violent death, crime and punishment, and the rudiments of natural justice; e) the emergence of agriculture and settlements, arts and crafts. The story introduces in twenty-six verses many of the essential elements of a natural anthropology.”

The stories of the Bible always have a profound ethical message at their core. But why convey the message using stories that are sometimes difficult to understand? Why not simply state it directly? Because, as Marshall MacLuhan said, the message is in the medium.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Leo R. Kass, “Farmers, Founders, and Fratricide: The Story of Cain and Abel” and other sources.

Upon the death of King Solomon, the ten northern tribes refused to accept his son Rehoboam as king. They separated from the southern tribes to form the Kingdom of Israel and elected Jeroboam as their king. The two southern tribes formed the Kingdom of Judah.

In 722 BCE, the Assyrians conquered the Kingdom of Israel, exiled its inhabitants, scattered them to other parts of their empire, and forced them to assimilate with the local population, while bringing in Assyrians to colonize their new territory. After a century and a half, all that remained of them was the legend of “the 10 lost tribes of Israel.” On the other hand, the kingdom of Judah managed to escape the Assyrian threat, but was successively conquered by the Chaldeans, the Egyptians, and finally by the Babylonians, who took Jerusalem in 588, destroyed the Temple, and took the elite to Babylon.

Fortunately, the Babylonian exile didn’t last long, because in 539 BCE, Cyrus, king of Persia, conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to the land of Israel. Between 520 and 515 BCE, the second Temple in Jerusalem was built, and by 450 CE, the canonization of the Torah and half the books of the Bible began, which make up what Yoram Hazony calls the «History of Israel,» from Genesis to the Book of Kings.

Hazony explains: the «History of Israel,» the first half of the Bible, was conceived to stem the hemorrhage of the exiled communities and build a nation amidst exile. They feared that if they did nothing, they might suffer the same fate as their northern brethren. The text would serve as a repository for memory, a reminder of what had been and what had been lost. By reading it, the Jews would have a source of national pride. It would also be a record of returns from other exiles and a preparation for one day finally returning to their homeland. The Exodus from Egypt is the best example of a narrative of a successful return, and from this stems its constant presence in the Bible.

But the central point that the «History of Israel» teaches us, says Hazony, was that the God of Israel was not only the benefactor of that people, but was the Creator of all humanity, and therefore cared for all of His creation. The Hebrew Bible questioned the nature of the moral and political order of all humanity, not just the Jewish people. The Greeks called this questioning «philosophy,» and the Jews called the Torah the philosophy of Judaism.

Hazony asks: Why did the Jewish people, whom Moses called the least of the peoples, refuse to disappear among the peoples where they lived and always seek to restore themselves as a nation? The answer is a bit daring but simple: The Jewish cause is worthwhile, because it is ultimately the cause of all humanity.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Yoram Hazony “The Philosophy of the Hebrew Bible” and other sources.

It is written in the Torah that Aaron, of the tribe of Levi, received from God the monopoly of the priesthood. Aaron’s family had the exclusivity and responsibility to make offerings at the altar of God, first in the Tabernacle and later in the Temple in Jerusalem. They were also obligated to bless the people, redeem the firstborn, and teach the Torah (Leviticus 10:10-11). They were also required to remain pure, meaning they could not be near a corpse or marry divorced women, converts to Judaism, or promiscuous women. These obligations and prerogatives would be passed from father to son. From this derives the division of the people of Israel into three groups: the priests or Kohanim, who are the descendants of Aaron; the other Levites who are not descendants of Aaron; and the rest of the people of Israel.

With the destruction of the Temple, the cohanim lost their role of making sacrifices and were left exclusively to bless the people and redeem the firstborn. The teaching of the Torah passed into the hands of the rabbis. Over time, the custom became established, as it is not written anywhere, that the cohanim are the first to bless the reading of the Torah.

Orthodox Jews retained the roles and restrictions of the cohanim. Depending on the Orthodox community, the cohanim bless the people on various religious occasions and are prohibited from freely marrying or approaching the dead. Some Conservative communities follow the same rules, but in most liberal movements, the role of the cohen was practically eliminated. They argue that without the Temple, there is no justification for having priests and it is very difficult to conclusively prove descent from Aaron.

Generally, the blessing ceremony requires the cohanim to come forward, cover their heads with tallit, extend their arms high, and place their fingers in a specific shape, while repeating the three blessings stipulated in the Torah. In the Reconstructionist movement, on the other hand, it is customary for the entire family to cover themselves with the father’s tallit and recite the same blessings. The Reformists practically eliminated everything related to the cohanim. In the Conservative movement, there has been extensive debate about whether women descended from a cohen have the same rights as men, and opinions are divided, but they did eliminate all prohibitions regarding marriage.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, rector of the Ziegler School for Rabbinic Studies for the Conservative movement, some time ago reintroduced the cohanim blessing on the major holidays in his congregation. He argues that every society develops a network of stories, prohibitions, festivals, ceremonies, and institutions that must be preserved, as long as they do not contradict the moral convictions of the group, do not become a heavy burden for its members, violate the values ​​of the world around us, and do not alienate the Jew from his heritage. The difference in their ceremony of «dijenen,» blessing, is that it prepares the group of cohanim who will participate for a year and includes women daughters of cohanim.

The Lord said to Moses (Bamidbar 6:24–26): «Say to Aaron and his sons, ‘This is how you shall bless the children of Israel. Say to them: God bless you and keep you; God make his face shine upon you and grant you his favor; God lift up his countenance upon you and grant you peace.'» The blessing of the cohanim is not only not a relic, it is an inheritance that transcends time.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Article by Bradley Shavit Artson and other sources.

For people in the Middle Ages, the Earth was the center of the universe, religion occupied the central place, and society was organized in feudal monarchies. But when Columbus’s voyages demonstrated that the Earth and the planets revolved around the Sun, when reason replaced religious faith, and when feudal monarchies were replaced by nation-states, the paradigm of the Middle Ages ended and the paradigm of Modernity emerged.

Thomas S. Kuhn (1922-1996), a renowned philosopher of science, defined «paradigm» as the set of convictions, values, experiences, beliefs, ways of thinking, and customs shared by the members of a given society and which explain their behavior and their way of understanding life and the world. He says that the shift from one paradigm to another occurs through some «revolutionary» event, which can be an event, a new idea, or both.

Hans Kung, in his book «Judaism: Past, Present, Future,» uses Kuhn’s model and divides the history and development of Judaism into six paradigms. He explains that the shift from one paradigm to the next occurred through an important historical event and a change in the way of understanding and practicing Judaism as a way of life.

The first is the paradigm of the «tribes.» It begins with the patriarchs and the twelve tribes and is consolidated with Moses, with the Torah received at Sinai, and the conquest of the Land of Israel. During this period, leaders such as Samson’s emerge. The paradigm shifts when the threat of the Philistines forces the Hebrew people to cease being autonomous tribes and organize themselves into a monarchical system.

The second is that of monarchy, when the Hebrews unified and accepted the leadership of a king (Saul, David, and Solomon). This paradigm ended when, separating into the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, Assyria disappeared from the Kingdom of Israel and the Kingdom of Judah was exiled to Babylon.

The third paradigm, that of theocracy, arose with the return of the exiles from Judah to the Land of Israel, led by Ezra and Nehemiah. This was when the priests, the descendants of Aaron, gave the Tanakh, the Bible, a central role in the identity of the Jewish people. It ended when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple.

The fourth paradigm is that of rabbinic Judaism, when the rabbis assumed leadership of the Jewish people in exile. The medieval ghetto with the synagogue became the center of Jewish life, and the Talmud became its code of conduct. The paradigm ends when the Jew leaves the medieval ghetto, thanks to the ideas of the Enlightenment and Emancipation carried by Napoleon’s army.

The fifth paradigm is that of assimilation into modernity. It emerged in Europe with thinkers such as Moses Mendelssohn and Herzl. It culminated in the Holocaust and the creation of the State of Israel.

The sixth is that of postmodernism, and today it has taken three different paths: that of the religious Jew, the secular Zionist Jew, and the traditional cultural Jew, which reflect the three axes that have always governed Judaism: God, the land of Israel, and the Jewish people. What is your paradigm?

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Hans Kung «Judaism, Past, Present, Future.

At the beginning of the last century, the smicha, the title of rabbi, was a piece of paper on which was written, in Torah-like font, the certification given by a rabbi to a candidate whom he knew personally, that, in his judgment, that person had the necessary knowledge to practice as such. At the end was the rabbi’s signature, the name of the city where he practiced, and the date, expressed in the parashah (the chapter of the Torah) corresponding to that day of the week and the current Jewish year. The «smicha» was handwritten, did not mention the name or seal of any academic institution, and the signer did not hold any title or official position.

Since then, obtaining the title of rabbi has evolved considerably. The same degree is now a beautiful diploma, printed on parchment paper, bearing the name of an academic institution, proof of having met the requirements for receiving the degree, and the names and signatures of the relevant authorities. But not only has the diploma changed, but also the way of preparing and the role a rabbi now plays in his community.

Milton Steinberg says: “Rabbis, first and foremost, are teachers of tradition.” Although they perform other functions today, they are, above all, teachers. In no sense are they priests, since any Jewish adult, with a certain minimum of knowledge and the correct spiritual attitude, can conduct the religious services dictated by Jewish tradition. But now rabbis, in addition to being teachers, are also pastors, preachers, administrators, and community leaders. Louis Jacobs says that until the 14th century, rabbis did not make a living from their profession. They were scholars in the study of Jewish law, and their role was to interpret it at the request of members of the community, without receiving any salary. For their services, they were only exempt from contributing financially to the community. Even in the Middle Ages, rabbis practiced other professions to support themselves, such as medicine or commerce. By the 16th century, the position of local rabbi had become a paid position within the community.

Today, the studies required to become a rabbi vary depending on the denomination. Ultra-Orthodox Jews primarily require the study and knowledge of Jewish law, especially the Talmud and codes such as the Shulchan Aruch. Modern Orthodox Jews, in addition to the above, study modern theology and philosophy. Conservative rabbis, in addition to studying what their Orthodox colleagues do, also study the Bible, Midrash, Kabbalah, the historical development of Judaism, Jewish ethics, Conservative Jewish responsa, classical and modern works of Jewish theology and philosophy, and everything related to leading a community. The program is at the graduate level, so a bachelor’s degree is required. Reform Judaism, on the other hand, focuses more on the pastoral aspect and primarily studies the historical development of Judaism, biblical criticism, and traditional rabbinic texts. To graduate, students practice as rabbinical interns in a congregation throughout their years of study. Previously, only men could be rabbis. Now, except for the ultra-Orthodox, women can also become rabbis in all other denominations. Historically, not only has Judaism evolved, but the path to becoming a rabbi has also evolved.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Milton Steinberg «Basic Judaism» and other sources.

Thomas Edison, the great American inventor, developed the incandescent light bulb in 1879. In 1882, he started up the first electricity generating plant in lower Manhattan, serving 85 customers who had a total of 400 light bulbs in their homes. From then until now, Edison could never have imagined the many functions electricity would perform in our homes. We use it for countless activities in our daily lives. When we lose power, our lives are greatly disrupted. We no longer understand how we lived without electricity.

Our sages began to question how this new paradigm affected Jewish life. Especially since electricity provided light and made it much easier to perform many of our common household chores, such as cooking and washing, they wondered how its use would affect Shabbat observance: Could using an electrical device be considered «work» (melachah) or affect our ability to rest (shvut) on Shabbat?

There are 39 jobs, or melachot, that our sages defined as prohibited on Shabbat, and electricity can affect them. For example, some consider that flipping a light switch on or off violates the prohibition of turning on (37) or off (36) a fire, since they consider the incandescent light bulb equivalent to fire. Others hold the opposite view. They do not consider an electric light to be a fire, since there is no combustion, no flame, and no coal is generated.

There are other melachot that have been used to argue for or against the use of electrical devices on Shabbat. Using a computer or cell phone conflicts with the prohibition of writing (33). Using electric grills, with the prohibition of cooking (11). For some, turning on the light in a room is equivalent to finishing the construction (34) or completing a task (38).

It could be defined as the common denominator of what is prohibited on Shabbat, as anything that results in permanent or lasting changes to our environment. The purpose of cooking is to transform something raw into something cooked. The purpose of writing is to store information for later retrieval. But using an electric grill to heat already cooked food could be permitted. Using a card with a magnetic strip to open a hotel room would be the same case. In general, it can be said that manual labor that is prohibited on Shabbat is also prohibited if performed using electricity.

Rabbi Joel Roth, citing writings as diverse as those of Samson Raphael Hirsch, Mordechai Kaplan, and Abraham Joshua Heschel, explains that they all agree in defining «melach,» the work prohibited on Shabbat, as anything that allows people to «dominate or change» their environment. Many rabbis have addressed the issue of electricity use on Shabbat, and there is a range of opinions, from the most restrictive to the most permissive. Furthermore, new devices are emerging, such as light-emitting diode (LED) light bulbs, which force us to rethink old rules. Ultimately, the issue is more about “shvut,” rest, than “melachah,” work. It’s not so much about what work shouldn’t be done, but rather what I should do to truly rest on Shabbat.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Daniel Nevins: “Electricity and Shabbat” and other sources.

“All the vows, all the prohibitions, all the oaths, all the consecrations… that we have promised, or sworn, or consecrated, or forbidden ourselves, from this Yom Kippur until the next Yom Kippur (Ashkenazi version), from the last Yom Kippur until the present Yom Kippur (Sephardic version), may they come to our benefit. As for all of them, we repudiate them. They are all undone, abandoned, canceled, null and void, they are no longer in force or effect. Our vows are no longer vows, and our prohibitions are no longer prohibitions, and our oaths are no longer oaths.”

This is the text of the Kol Nidrei prayer, which begins Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement and undoubtedly one of the best-known rituals within Judaism. The accompanying melody, especially the Ashkenazi version, is even better known than the meaning of the lyrics. Many Jews who do not normally attend synagogue make an exception on Yom Kippur night to hear the Kol Nidrei prayer. However, Kol Nidrei is not a prayer; it is a legal formula for canceling vows; it does not mention God and is written in Aramaic with a bit of Hebrew. Nor does it speak of repentance, the main theme of the holiday.

The Torah mentions the subject of vows or vows in several passages. In Deuteronomy 23:22-23 it is written: “If you make a vow to the Lord your God, do not delay in fulfilling it, for be sure that the Lord your God will require it of you, and if you break it, you will bear a sin. 23 However, you do not sin if you refrain from making vows.” Eventually, the rabbis defined how to nullify vows in the Talmudic tractates Nedarim and Shevuot. This is why it is customary to say “bli neder,” “without this being a promise,” when a person makes a promise.

It is unknown when and where Kol Nidrei was written. Evidence of it dates back to the 9th century CE. It is known that the great rabbis disliked it. Rabbi Amram Gaon, in his “Seder,” says that it is a foolish custom and that it is forbidden to practice it. But by the year 1000, the Kol Nidrei prayer had already gained acceptance in Babylon. In the 11th century, Rabbeinu Tam changed the phrase “from last Yom Kippur to the present Yom Kippur” to “from this Yom Kippur to the next Yom Kippur,” which was accepted by the Ashkenazi community, but not by the Sephardim. Scholars such as Joseph S. Bloch have sought the ritual’s origin in the forced conversions of Jews to Christianity during the Visigoth era in 7th-century Spain, in the Byzantine Empire (700-850), and in Inquisition Spain, when converts prayed it in secret.

Chanting Kol Nidrei on Yom Kippur night, with all the men covered in their tallit and all the Torah scrolls surrounding the Bimah dressed in white, pretending to witness a song and lyrics that commemorate those forced to abandon their Judaism, is more than simply asking for the annulment of a vow; it is proclaiming our belonging through the power of a melody.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Articles by Louis Kaplan, Herman Kieval, and other sources.