There is nothing in the Sephardic prayers more spiritually uplifting than the Selihot of the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays). Sepharadim recite Selihot throughout the month of Elul and all the way through Yom Kippur. From Anenu to Hatanu L'fanekha, these are the most anticipated and beloved prayers in our beloved liturgical tradition.
I'm sure you are wondering - it's February - why am I writing about the Sephardic Selihot?
Throughout the Selihot, one of the prayers we recite repeatedly is a long paragraph that begins with the words El Melekh Yoshev Al Kisseh Rahamim - "Almighty King who sits on the throne of mercy." Within that prayer, we say El Horetanu lomar midot shelosh esrei - "O God, who taught us to recite the Thirteen Attributes", and we then say:
Va'Ya'avor Hashem Al Panav Vayikra: Hashem Hashem El Rahum v'hanun..."And God passed before him (Moses) and proclaimed, Hashem, Hashem, God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abundant in lovingkindness and truth, keeping lovingkindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, and acquitting."
These "Thirteen Attributes" - Shelosh Esrei Midot - have their origin in this week's Torah portion, Parashat Ki Tissa.
Our tradition teaches us that the 40-day period of the High Holidays – from Rosh Hodesh Elul to Yom Kippur – has a special history that makes it the choicest of seasons for repentance and forgiveness.
The Talmud records that after the Jewish people committed the awful sin of the Golden Calf, the result of which was the shattering of the stone tablets where the Ten Commandments were inscribed, Moses ascended Mount Sinai for a second time. The purpose of this second ascent was Moses seeking forgiveness for the entire Jewish people. Moses was asking God to give the Jewish people a second chance – he was seeking teshuva and seliha for the Jewish people.
The date when Moses ascended Mount Sinai for the second time was Rosh Hodesh Elul, and Moses spent 40 days with God, praying that God should give the people another chance.
When God finally accepted Moses’ prayers, a new set of stone tablets were carved out, and the Ten Commandments were inscribed on them anew. On the 40th day, Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the new tablets of the law. The date that day was the 10th of Tishrei – Yom Kippur.
It is this sequence of historical events that endows the period of the High Holidays with a special power of repentance and forgiveness. On Yom Kippur, we recite the Thirteen Attributes of God’s Compassion – “Hashem, Hashem, El Rahum VeHanun” - over and over.
These words come from this week's parasha - Ki Tissa - and were first recited on Yom Kippur when God forgave us for the sin of the Golden Calf.
We recite them continuously on Yom Kippur, in order to connect the story of God forgiving us for the Golden Calf with God hopefully forgiving us on Yom Kippur.
The powerful spirit of this sequence of events recurs metaphorically in our own lives on a regular basis. All year long, we tend to build our own “golden calves,” often forgetting our bond with God and the Torah, and also violating ethical codes of conduct with our families and friends. Human nature is difficult, and we all succumb – in one way or the other – to that idolatrous “golden calf” within us.
When the month of Elul comes around, we begin to review our deeds and actions from the past year, asking God for “another chance,” with the hope that by Yom Kippur, we will have come down Mount Sinai – like Moses did that day – with God’s commandments renewed in our hearts.
How did Moses and the Israelites move beyond their shared breakdown? Realizing their mistake and what they had potentially lost, the Midrash teaches that the Israelites joined together and searched for remnants of the first tablets. After their communal clean up, they collected whatever remains of the broken tablets they could find, and they gave them to Moses. Fortunate enough to be given a second chance, Moses subsequently carved out a new set of tablets, and, in a powerful message to the community, he placed them alongside the broken pieces.
The Talmud teaches: “Rabbi Judah bar Ilai said that two arks journeyed with Israel in the wilderness — one in which the Torah was kept, and one in which the tablets broken by Moses were kept. The one containing the Torah was kept in the Tent of Meeting; the other, containing the broken tablets, would come and go with them” (Talmud Yerushalmi, Shekalim, 1:1).
Another Talmudic teaching goes one step further: “Both the new tablets of the law and the broken pieces of the first tablets were kept in the same Ark of the Covenant” (Talmud Bavli, Berakhot, 8b).
Whether the broken remnants were in the same ark or a separate ark, both teachings offer us a powerful reminder that wholeness and brokenness share equal spaces in life. The Tablets of the Law, whole or broken, serve as a metaphor for the human condition — striving for perfection, all the while embracing imperfection. Both the whole and the broken are considered sacred in the Jewish tradition.
Failures, broken dreams and shattered fantasies are an inevitable and natural part of life. Shevirat Luhot -- the symbolic “shattering of tablets” -- is often a necessary gateway through which we must pass in order to reach the greater heights we seek in life.
Through the shared pain and struggle of the golden calf, the shattering of the tablets, the communal cleanup and the subsequent carving of new tablets, Moses and the Israelites teach us a very powerful lesson in life, one that has been part of the Jewish experience for thousands of years: when we experience a breakdown, it is always possible to “pick up the pieces” and start again.
The beauty of the Sephardic tradition is that we approach these complex moments with a blend of awe and joy. We recite these "Thirteen Attributes" and all of the Selihot in joy and happiness. We ask for forgiveness and a "second chance," not with crying, wailing, beating our chests or dark and austere tunes, but with joyous and uplifting melodies. It's the finest expression of the beauty of the Sephardic tradition and speaks to a deep wisdom about the classic Sephardic way of life.
We all face challenges and breakdowns. At some point in our lives, we all see our “whole tablets” shattered into a thousand pieces, right before our eyes. Judaism empowers us to pick up those broken pieces, and with them in our hands, pick up from where we left off. Simply put, we try again, because there’s no other choice but to move on. That was life during this challenging Biblical episode, that's life in the Month of Elul and on Yom Kippur... and indeed, that’s life.
Shabbat Shalom