The first ten days of the Hebrew month Tishrei are called (in Hebrew) Yamim Norayim. Most Jews call this period “the High Holidays,” but this name does not mean much to me. Yamim means days, and Norayim can be translated as awe, reverence, or fear. Translation is always an interpretation, and therefore, an opening to explore the meaning of this season in Judaism.
I understand the word awe as recognizing and internalizing the power and beauty of the world. I think that every day we have multiple opportunities to be in awe. I am in awe when I recognize that the fig tree in front of my house after a little rain has the most intoxicating aroma; when a sweet child in my neighborhood smiles and share a thought with me; when I feel the love emanating from family and friends; when I discover a new way to do something, or I learn something new; when nature shows its power. Recognizing the potentialities in this world, in relationships, in nature, in science are all good pathways to feeling awe.
Calling the Yamim Norayim the Days of Awe helps remind us that this is the beginning of a new journey, a new year, and taking the time to either hone the skill or learn how to marvel at what happens with and to the world.
Together with the idea of reverence, these days are an opportunity to honor, to treat the earth with deep respect and care, for its inhabitants, and for the Divine that is all around us. The other meaning of the word Norayim, fear, can help shake us from inertia and force us to act proactively in ways that can change the direction that the world sometimes takes.
The Days of Awe are not connected with an historical event. In the Hebrew Bible they are described as days in which we listen to the sound of the shofar, days of remembrance, and Yom Kippur in specific as a day in which we afflict our souls. These are days for contemplation, days to ponder about human nature and purpose, about our connections with human beings and with the Divine, missing the mark and finding our way, about compassion and justice. There are many traditions we have during these days that aid in the process of spiritual growth. Today, I will explore the idea of wearing white on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. The idea of wearing white comes from a verse in the Book of Isaiah (1:18):
“If your sins prove to be like crimson, they will become white as snow; if they prove to be as red as crimson dye, they shall become white as wool.”
Wearing white means that while we know we missed the mark a few times in the year that passed, we trust in our ability to change and to find different ways to behave. White is the color of the shroud in which we are wrapped when we die, a reminder that these days can help us let go of things that do not make any sense anymore, that are dead inside of us, as well as of our mortality.
Not only do we wear white, we change the Torah covers to white ones, we cover the reading table in white, and we even cover the Torah in between readings with a white cloth. This year I decided to make a new white cloth to cover the Torah to use during services. I gathered many small pieces I had and started connecting them, creating lines and angles, sewing these little pieces into a larger unit. I wanted to have a beautiful thing that was unique, uneven, the varying shades of white creating a vibrant patchwork pointing the eye in different directions, expanding the mind and fostering creative ways in which we can rethink our actions and take different paths. The front and the back are different.
For me this small cloth is a symbol of the Yamim Norayim, a reminder that we do not have to follow the same pathways, that every day is a good day to look at things with more awe, with more reverence, and with a bit of constructive fear.
As we approach the Yamim Norayim I wish you the strength to find the path that will lead you to reflection, to deep reverence, to awe, and with the impulse to change yourself in positive ways, and change the world in needed ways. Shannah tovah umetukah, a good and sweet new year!