Yom Kippur, Israel Style

There is no other country in the world that celebrates Yom Kippur like Israel does.  Already starting at noon, buses start running less frequently and people and their cars start disappearing off the streets.  Even Tel Aviv, which remains as lively as ever during Rosh Hashana, shuts down.  I had the fortunate possibility of being able to experience such holiday with my great aunt and uncle in Herzliya.  From their apartment I was able to witness the first of many signs of the approaching holiday, all beginning around 4 o'clock in the afternoon.  The radio was tuned to Galgalatz and playing some holiday music, and all of the sudden there was static.  I turned on the TV; programming was canceled until 19:00 on Saturday.  I began to hear the sound of bike horns and bells in the streets below.  Men donning tall black hats and wrapped ceremoniously in their tallitot were making their way in all directions in the now car-empty streets, women in long dresses as well.  A remarkable time of year had begun.

After consuming a gargantuan amount of food, consisting of roast chicken, potatoes, soup, zucchini pie, challah, and broccoli, with cake and tea for desert, (I swear someone could have popped me with a needle and I would have exploded,) my friend Jared (a fellow Shevet chanich who bravely decided to spend the holiday with my family) and I walked to the synagogue in the center of town.  Following traditional standards, the women on the upper balcony were separated from the men on the ground level and the bimah was in the center.  (For the High Holy Days, however, the hazan stands directly facing the Aron Kodesh.)  Conforming to more modern standards, the ner tamid was a neon orange light above a replica of the Ten Commandments, outlined in neon blue.  The synagogue was air conditioned, however it did little as the constant opening and closing of the door and the nonstop breathing of hundreds stifled the cooling effect.  The Kol Nidre service was spectacular.  That the enchanting voice of the shaliach tzibur could reach us in the way back of the sanctuary was an incredible feat.  Though sweating profusely I was able to concentrate on a few of the prayers; others I could not even keep up with.  Finally people started piling out and Jared and I began the 15 minute walk home.  Several times along the way we had to jump out of the paths of little kids on their bikes pelting down the hill straight towards us.  It seemed like every baby carriage and stroller in Herzliya was being pushed along the streets.  Though no shop or restaurant was open, people were out filling the empty streets simply with their presence on this most holy day of the year.

We woke up after 14 hours of sleep.  It was 1:00.  I guess Year Course had been bearing down hard on us, and we were thankful for the escape from the noise and work to a comfortable bed, good food, and a loving family.  After playing a few games of shesh besh, we cleaned up and went back to shul for mincha, n'eila, and ma'ariv.  I snuck an Elite Cookies and Cream chocolate bar into my tallit bag for Jared and I to break fast with as soon as the shofar was sounded, singnaling both the end of Yom Kippur and of Shabbat.  After reciting numerous times G-d's Thirteen Attributes and Al-Het, it was time for Avinu Malkenu, then finally L'Shana Habah B'Yerushalayim.

This year that one phrase came true.  Twice last year I said it: the previous Yom Kippur and the Passover Seder, and only now did I fully grasp what exactly it meant.  Today I joined 6 million other Jews and at the same time we sounded the shofar.  Today I joined 6 million other Jews and at the same time we commemorated the war which struck the country 34 years ago, and the lives that were lost.  On this day almost everything in the country stopped, except of course for the moving lips of millions praying to Hashem and the thousands of innocent children riding their bicycles through the streets.