Moving beyond fatalism

I have long battled with Unetane Tokef (the power of the sanctity of the day). It may be one of the highlights of the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur prayers, beautifully worded and encapsulating the essence of these holy days, but I have never found it to be an easy moment.

As a child, I battled to remain upstanding in a packed and rather stuffy shul, as is custom whenever the Ark is opened, for what seemed like hours. The cantor and choir repeated the same words, “On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealed”, over and over, definitely more times than I could see them printed in the machzor.

As I got older, it became a scary prayer, as I began to understand the meaning and the content of this section of liturgy. The chilling, piercing sound of “Mi, umi” (Who and who) followed by the many ways this could become our final year on earth shook me to the core.

It took me a lot of growing up to develop a healthier relationship with this meaningful piyut (liturgical poem sung during prayer services). It was a shift from looking at our lives fatalistically to learning that we are in charge of our destiny. Yes, there is divine judgement. Yes, we file past the Master of the Universe, one by one, like a flock of sheep. The decisions from above are based on our past record, and more importantly, on where we are at as He gazes into the depths of our soul. But the verdicts aren’t final. They can be appealed, challenged, and reversed through our actions and resolutions for the future. Hence, the high point of that page in our prayer book is not “it is written… it is sealed”, it’s the final line, traditionally shouted out by the congregation in unison, “teshuva, tefilah, tzedakah!” Repentance, prayer, and charity can avert, set aside, remove an evil decree.

These high holidays, I fear I’m going to struggle with Unetane Tokef once again. This past year, our world was turned around, literally. All we ever took for granted dissipated into thin air. We felt totally out of control.

One year ago, there was barely a dry eye in shul as we reflected on the previous six months, at the losses so many of us had experienced. We had no idea then what the year ahead would bring and prayed harder than we could ever remember. Each of us was keenly aware of our own mortality, and the words “who will live and who will die” were shifting from the abstract into reality.

And now, one year later, we’re going to be facing the same page in the machzor. “Who and who” will reverberate, invoking the memory, names, and faces of dear ones and loved ones. No doubt, we will be thinking back to last year’s judgement and its outcomes. It’s not going to be easy.

I hope I’ll have the intellectual and spiritual maturity to, once again, grasp the true message of the piyut. Difficult as it may be, I pray that I can move beyond fatalism to appreciate and accept that I need to become the master of my destiny.

I will try to shift my emphasis from all that is totally out of my control and put my energy into making sure that I’m a better me in 5782. Then, I will turn over to Hashem, with full faith in his kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. I will thus challenge the Master of the Universe to make 5782 a year replete with revealed blessings of life, health, wealth, and happiness for all.

Shana tova.