Although we commonly refer to the holiest day of the year as “Yom Kippur,” throughout the liturgy, as we know, it is instead identified as “Yom HaKippurim.” On the surface, this reflects the day’s central purpose – atonement – but it also unmistakably echoes the name of another Jewish holiday, one as far apart on the calendar and as diametrically different in character as could be.
Yom HaKippurim, a day like Purim.
The holiday of freewheeling joy, levity, and indulgence marked by outward-facing observances such as dressing in costume and gifting others with food and charity. A celebration as loud and colorful and gastronomically permissive as Yom Kippur is solemn, inward-focused, ascetic, and white as snow.
Much has been written about the connection between these two seemingly opposite holidays. According to the Vilna Gaon, Yom Kippur and Purim are two halves of a whole. Whereas the other festivals are devoted partly to G-d and partly to man (i.e., to earthly, epicurean delights), Yom Kippur is wholly spiritual – kulo laShem – while Purim is wholly physical – kulo lachem. Taken together, says the Vilna Gaon, they constitute one balanced unit.
Other common bonds connect Yom Kippur with Purim: The Purim story climaxed in a perilous appeal before a flesh-and-blood king; on Yom Kippur we face the King of Kings and beseech Him for mercy. It is said that while the other holy days on our calendar will disappear into obsolescence after Mashiach comes, these two holidays will endure forever. Yet at that time, according to the Zohar, Yom Kippur will shed its restrictive nature and indeed become like Purim.
What’s more, both Yom Kippur and Purim are preceded the day before by their ritual inverse: On Erev Yom Kippur, there is a mitzvah to eat and drink, which the Gemara (Brachot 8:2) deems coequal with fasting the following day, while the Fast of Esther prefaces Purim, even though the fast which Esther declared for herself and the Jewish people before approaching Achashverosh took place in Nisan almost a year earlier.
This year, as we prepare for Yom Kippur, the annual spiritual audit looms particularly heavy.
How much has changed since this time last year. The Jewish State – and the Jewish people – are under continuous attack. We are demonized, our enemies lionized. So many lives have been lost, shattered, upended…
It will be difficult, for some impossible, to muster the wherewithal for 25 hours of kulo laShem. To channel the burning questions, the simmering anger, the searing pain into Divine connection. To maintain the angelic demeanor that Yom Kippur normally invokes.
Can we manage to encounter G-d as a loving father, master, shepherd – all those beautiful allegories from the famous piyyut? Though we are meant to be pleading our case before the Heavenly Court, who doesn’t yearn to cross-examine G-d Himself about the events of the past year?
In the confounding shadow of these challenges, it seems to me that every single Jew who has been touched by the cataclysm and still turns out this Yom Kippur in prayer and fasting – no matter their inner struggles – should automatically be inscribed for good. Never mind the deed-by-deed playback, the weighing and measuring on the scales. Just a resounding judgment of unadulterated goodness. Of health and wholeness and success.
So may it be for all of Klal Yisrael.
But why not anticipate something even greater?
Let these Days of Awe deliver awe-inspiring, world-shaking miracles. Let the transcendent elevation of the Day of Atonement give way to manifest jubilation that permeates every facet of our existence. Let the endless sacrifices be enough.
Let it be like Purim.
Just as Esther entered the good graces of the king, let us find overwhelming favor with the Ribbono shel Olam. Let all the Hamans of our time suffer fantastic defeat.
On this Yom HaKippurim, let the ultimate redemption finally arrive.
