The sailors, Ninevites, and even a fish and a plant do what God asks in the book of Jonah; the prophet alone resists. A zealot who wants Nineveh punished, Jonah flees his mission because he fears God will forgive them. When the Ninevites repent and God spares them, Jonah is furious. Read on Yom Kippur, his story challenges those whose zeal demands justice for others while pleading for divine mercy for themselves.
With clenched fists, we beat our chests in confession on Yom Kippur—but what are we still holding in our hands? The prophets decry those who defraud the poor, hoard ill-gotten gains, and then lift their hands in prayer. Ne’ilah, the closing prayer of Yom Kippur, echoes their warning: repentance is not complete until we return what we have wrongfully held to its rightful owner. Yom Kippur may end before restitution is complete, but repentance does not.
The book of Jonah is infused with allusions to earlier biblical characters: its prophet flees like Cain, wills the city overturned–unlike Abraham, collapses like Elijah, passes through a Noah-like storm, and quotes Moses’ words of compassion as a complaint. Taken together, the book invites readers to measure Jonah against Israel’s remembered heroes of intercession, judgment, and repentance.
The Yom Kippur ritual included two goats. One was sacrificed to God. What happened to the second one, the so-called scapegoat?
%2520as%2520written%2520in%2520a%2520Torah%2520scroll.jpeg)
YHWH is a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin… yet “he surely does not erase punishment” (Exod. 34:6–7). To make sense of this seeming contradiction, the Talmud offers a midrashic reinterpretation, and in selichot the verse is truncated. But could this attribute—one of God’s Thirteen—have been misunderstood all along?
Why are the instructions for the incense altar given only after those for the tabernacle and its other furnishings? The answer highlights the altar’s distinctive roles in relation to the tabernacle.
Does God always accept repentance? Is God’s mercy a good quality? Does God really forgive Nineveh? By appending Micah 7:18–20 to the end of Jonah, it is as if Jonah is finally accepting the goodness of God’s mercy.
Calendrical disputes, which recurred frequently in ancient and medieval Jewish communities, created alternative dates for festivals such as Yom Kippur and Passover. Here, we look at four disputes and the different ways that communities navigated them.
The history, structure, poetic style, and intertextual biblical and rabbinic sources that inspired the best-known liturgical piyyut recited on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
In the Second Temple period, a crimson thread was placed on the horn of the Yom Kippur scapegoat and tied to a stone in the desert before the goat was pushed off the cliff. After the verse “If your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18) was used as a prooftext for this non-biblical practice, the Talmud envisaged a magical ritual in which a second crimson thread would turn white on Yom Kippur to signal God’s acceptance of the people’s repentance.
In a Yom Kippur afternoon (minhah) liturgical poem (piyyut) about Abraham, the artist of the 13th century Leipzig Mahzor chooses a scene of Abraham standing up to Nimrod and God saving him from death by fire.
On Yom Kippur, one goat is sacrificed to YHWH and another is sent to Azazel in the wilderness. Who is Azazel? The 12th-century commentator Abraham ibn Ezra hints that the answer lies in reaching 33.
Leviticus 16 describes how the scapegoat ritual on Yom Kippur attains atonement for all of Israel’s sins, even acts of rebellion. Numbers 15, however, states that a person who sins unintentionally can bring an offering and be forgiven, but the person who sins intentionally is cut off from the people.
The book of Jubilees claims that the brothers sold Joseph on Yom Kippur. Amos accuses the wealthy of selling the righteous for shoes. Reading this as a reference to the sale of Joseph, Eleh Ezkarah tells how Caesar fills his palace with shoes, and executes ten sages as a punishment for this crime. Is this connected to the prohibition of wearing shoes on Yom Kippur?
Blood has a significant role in many biblical stories and rituals, most prominently in the atonement sacrifices of Leviticus. With the destruction of the Temple and the loss of sacrifices, Judaism and Christianity took very different paths to achieving atonement.
Self-affliction and fasting heightens awareness of our bodies; at the same time, it helps us to transcend our immanent selves. This tension was embraced by the 6th century poet Yannai in his qerova, who beseaches God to forgive Israel both out of pity for their wretchedness and on account of their resemblance to angels.
During the Second Temple period, the scapegoat was tied with a crimson thread. While the Torah requires a crimson thread as part of the purification ritual for tzaraʿat (skin disease), it does not mention it by the scapegoat. Nevertheless, parallel practices found in 2nd millennium B.C.E. Hittite texts of Luwian origin imply that the use of a crimson thread is not a late innovation but an ancient part of the rite.
Arguably, the highlight of the prayer service on Yom Kippur is the Seder Avodah, a type of piyyut (liturgical hymn) that poetically reenacts in every detail the ritual service performed by the high priest on Yom Kippur in the Jerusalem Temple. But why do these poems begin with the creation story?
The Torah reading on the afternoon of Yom Kippur consists of the list of forbidden sexual relations (Leviticus 18). How do these laws connect to Yom Kippur?
The Israelite-Samaritan interpretation of “you should afflict your souls” (ועניתם את נפשתיכם) and our experience of Yom Kippur.
.jpeg)
Leviticus 16 – ויקרא טז
