The text of Kol Nidre doesn’t only nullify the vows we have failed to fulfill or those we might fail to fulfill in the future. It is far broader than that. It undermines the process of vowing in and of itself. When we make vows, we have two options before us. We can fail to fulfill our vows and thus desecrate our own reflection of true timelessness. Or we can dedicate ourselves to fulfilling those vows and find ourselves serving our own reflection of true timelessness – rather than serving Hashem himself. In either case, we are placing ourselves with the goat designated for Azazel. Our violations and our dedications are both connecting us to a mere reflection of true timelessness – rather than to Hashem Himself.
The goats show us more than ways in which we can die, they show us how we can live. The ritual of the goats is one we can all emulate. We can dedicate ourselves to the timeless – and destroy that which is doomed to be nullified.
This is what we do Kol Nidre. We destroy that which is doomed to be nullified. We are casting our vows, be they past, present or future, over the cliff. And we are cleansing ourselves of the false service that vows themselves represent.
Perhaps this explains the centrality and the emotion of this unusual ritual. Perhaps Kol Nidre – for Jews of all stripes and levels of involvement – represents an opportunity to cast off their self-worship and recognize the true greatness of Hashem.
Perhaps, it is emotionally powerful precisely because it is a recognition of our own limitations.
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We read the story of the Akeidah on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. There are many things we can learn from this story. But there is a particular lesson for Rosh Hashanah – and it is revealed through the seemingly irrelevant bit of genealogy tacked on to the end of the reading.
After the Akeidah, Avraham is told that Nachor has numerous children and even a grandchild. Avraham, on the other hand, has but two sons – one of whom has been banished and the other of whom he was just commanded to kill. From Avraham’s perspective, he might be cursed while his brother Nachor is blessed. Of course, this is untrue. Avraham is the forefather of the Jewish people and, by extension, of monotheism itself; Nachor’s role was to lend a few genes to the project.
Sometimes terrible things – things like the Akeidah – actually unlock our potential and make us far greater than we otherwise would be. Sometimes those who seem enormously successful and blessed, like Avraham’s brother, are actually far more limited in their impact and their importance. Sometimes those who seem cursed are actually those who are blessed.
We should not be too quick to classify the judgments of Hashem.