Today’s Torah reading from the book of Leviticus is one that is especially easy to dismiss. It doesn’t have the powerful drama of the Akedah; it lacks the poetry of Jeremiah or Isaiah; and it is certainly missing the wonder of Jonah surviving in the belly of a whale. This reading is, instead, a rather dry recounting of the sacrificial rites and priestly responsibilities necessary to observe this day of atonement. Having given this introduction himself, my dad knew when he asked me to speak how difficult it is to make this reading compelling. He challenged me to find meaning in these instructions for completing dead rituals, and I took that to heart as I began my study.

At first read, when I realized that the material I had to work with was a lot of talk about bulls and goats, I knew I needed some help. My desire to try to make this reading meaningful for all of us sparked my curiosity. What use have we for reading about rituals no one has performed in centuries? To answer this question, I consulted our own Rabbi Halina Rubenstein, who, though she marked certain chapters of books for me, reminded me in her wisdom that the act of searching is often more important than finding that which you seek.

With that in mind, I began to explore these ancient purification rituals. Aaron, the first High Priest of Israel, is instructed to take a purifying bath and don sacral vestments made of linen before he can enter the Holy of Holies, the innermost Shrine of the Temple. Only the High Priest can enter this sacred chamber, and then only on Yom Kippur with the requisite sacrificial beasts in tow. Aaron brings with him a bull for a priestly sin offering, a ram for a burnt offering, and two goats for the sin offering of the people of Israel. He sprinkles the blood of the bull and one of the goats in front of the cover shielding the Ark of the Covenant from view, thus purging the Holy of Holies of the sins of the community. Then, Aaron lays his hands upon the remaining goat and confesses the transgressions of the Israelites, completing another act of purification when he expels this "scapegoat" and all the sins it carries out into the wilderness. The reading concludes with the proclamation that this tenth day of the seventh month, the one day of the year when the High Priest enters the Holy of Holies, shall be for all time a day of atonement.

Though the Temple is gone and we are far from Jerusalem, we nevertheless are completing in our own way the acts of purification. Our service today recalls the Temple rituals in many subtle ways. The Shacharit and Mincha services correspond to the morning and afternoon sacrifices. The white kittels that our service leaders wear evoke the white linen of the priestly garments. All of Israel stood at the Temple to await the High Priest’s completion of the rituals that would purge the community of sin; today, Jews all over the world gather together to repent and achieve a communal, spiritual cleansing. Today, we are reenacting the rituals of old and while we have lost the Holy of Holies, the place where eternal divinity met limited humanity, we still come together to draw God’s presence closer to us.

There are many complaints to be made about the lengthy and difficult Yom Kippur service—believe me, I’ve made them all. As the hours slip away, it can seem like we’re just going through the motions, looking ahead to break-fast. But there is value to the actions of the day. Rabbi Alan Lew writes that the purpose of all ritual is to render the invisible visible, to tap into the hidden mystical world that gives meaning to our lives. By going through the motions and participating in this reenactment, we become a part of something mysterious and wonderful, something we cannot understand but we can feel.

If mystical rituals aren’t your thing, then I have a suggestion for how to make your time here more meaningful. Think about where you are and the people around you. Think about the Little Chavurah that Could—a group of Jews who come together to pray as a community in the purest and most fulfilling way. There’s no reason that Rosh Pinah should ever have grown beyond a handful of individuals. But somehow, in some mysterious way, it has become this congregation. I have friends here who are joining us for the first time, and it is because of them that I am seeing our community with new eyes: a warm and supportive group that seeks to do the best they can for everyone here. We are blessed with individuals who are vaults of knowledge, and others who can sing the most beautiful tunes. But it is clear that in this Chavurah, it is not only the leaders who can inspire.

On these high holidays, we have seen people called to the Torah for the first time since they were thirteen, and newcomers welcomed as honored members of the congregation as they carry the Torah or open the Ark. Rosh Pinah believes that the young people have as much to offer as the elders and that everyone here is family. Ours is a participatory service, and each of you has an essential role to play in today’s reenactment. The pain of repenting is lessened because we repent together, and the joy of receiving God’s forgiveness is enhanced because we are forgiven together. Instead of letting yourself be overcome by the hunger and the length of the service, take time, as Rabbi David Wolpe advises, to pause and refocus. If you pay close attention you might be able to make out something ordinarily invisible. Together, we can make meaningful the search for the drama, the poetry, and the wonder in today’s Yom Kippur services.

Shana tovah.