F3: Days of Awe

Issue Navigation:

Setting the scene

Atmosphere is crucial in any performance, as well as in our
day to day routine. When one wants to have a nice,
romantic evening out, one unsurprisingly heads for a restaurant that is dimly lit, quiet and cosy, rather then spend the evening at the greyhound races. When film directors want to conjure up a scene depicting hell, they tend not to dress the devil up in clothes of light yellow and pink, with a timid voice and a pretty, innocent looking face. Every detail is important - try watching a scary bit in a film with the sound turned down, and see if it is still so scary. So, if you want to create an atmosphere of awe in which the audience feels that it is in the presence of something powerful and profound, what type of atmosphere would you create to achieve this?

Think of a synagogue with which you are familiar and consider the seating arrangements. Everyone is gathered together, often facing a highly decorated and brightly lit ark which provides a common focal point for the congregation. For most of the time this ark is closed, and its contents are mysteriously concealed from the audience. However, at crucial periods of the plot, all is revealed in full glory and splendour by the dramatic opening of a curtain. A sense of occasion and mystery is created, both vital components in creating a true atmosphere of awe.

Colours too are all important. In some synagogues, the ark is draped in white, as are the Scrolls of the Law and the reading desk Many people too wear a white robe known as a kittel. Do you think that white is the best colour to evoke a sense of awe? White is the colour that often evokes both purity and ghostliness. It is not the absence of colour, but something deliberate and positive. Would you have chosen a different tone?

Sounds

What about the sound? At the heart of the Rash Hashanah service, there is the piercing noise of a Shofar whose sound evokes so many different feelings. For some, it is reminiscent of a horn blown during a coronation, accompanied by feelings of majesty and splendour. For others, it is something much more simple, like a child’s cry. Far yet others, it sounds much more direct, a wake up call sounded in battle, telling us: “Wake up! Wake up, all those who sleep. Remember your creator and repent your ways” (Maimonides).

Other sounds too are heard in the synagogue. The audience themselves turn into the musicians by singing and chanting slow tunes that have a timeless feel to them, helping to create an eerie and historic sense of occasion. In fact, one of the loudest and most piercing sound on Yom Kippur is actually the deafening sound of silence itself, as it is heard in the Amidah or the silent prayer that lies at the heart of all five services on Yom Kippur. Amidst the noise and singing, the amidah is a kind of break from the performance, in which each individual member of the audience is given time to reflect upon the plot thus far and to examine its meaning in the context of the rest of their lives. The scene has been set for an awesome encounter.

The plot

There are seven days between Rash Hashanah and Yom Kippur, making the entire length of the performance ten days, known as the Asseret Yemei Teshuvah, (the ten days of repentance). Whilst this entire period is infused with a sense of awe and seriousness, it is Yom Kippur that provides the peak and climax of the entire play. It is the tenth day, the grand finale.

“Other people have built towering palaces, hove designed great bridges to span mighty rivers and wide roads to crass inhospitable deserts. They have produced fine art and moving music to stir the souls of men. The Jews create a day A day of haunting beauty and spiritual power during which man is raised far above his day to day concerns, to the higher realms of the ideal. A day of peace and harmony and reconciliation, of prayer and reverence and awe when man comes face to face with G-d.” (L. Jacobs)

As the day progresses, the audience gets hungrier and mare weary. Beginning with Kol Nidrei, the four regular prayers that are said on all festivals are recited and the end draws near. Just when the end is in sight, an additional prayer is inserted. This one is high in drama and entirely unique to Yom Kippur. The prayer’s name gives the audience a clue of what is to come. It is called Neilah, the prayer of “the locking of the gates”. God’s presence is about to go back into the palace and the heavenly doors bolted. The awesome encounter is about to come to an end.

As the performance continues through Neilah, each line gets shorter. The audience is exhausted. All the lengthy and verbose prayers that were said earlier on in the day have now been simplified. Eventually these too are completed, there is nothing more that can be said. After all the shouting and praying, after twenty five hours of fasting, a single, simple tone is heard. The final cry of the lone trumpet provides a chilling climax to the proceedings. Neilah is over and the play is complete. As the gates are heaven are shutting so too are the gates of the synagogue, ready for the next performance. The end. Or is it?

The play must go on!

At the end of most films, the words “The End” appear, telling audiences the blindingly obvious tact that the film has finished and that they can now go back to their real lives, enriched at having taken part in this cinematic experience. The blowing of the shofar has a similar effect, telling people that they can now get back to their normal routine (symbolised by going home and breaking their fast immediately). “The End” here however marks a new beginning. The audience and participants are now ready to leave the synagogue and begin the New Year properly. This powerful play may have been of great beauty, but it is chiefly of value for the effect that it could have on the audience during the rest of the year.

This is captured in the teachings of Maimonides, a great Jewish thinker in the Twelfth century, who rules that “Anyone who says: ‘I will sin and Yom Kippur will atone for my sin' does not find atonement an Yom Kippur.” The power of Yom Kippur is not enough on its awn, however powerful a performance. Its chief aim is inspirational; to be accompanied by changes in the year to come. As Robin Williams tells his pupils: “the powerful play of life goes on and you may contribute a verse”!

Next Page