Yom Kippur and "hell" in Jewish thought

The heavy atmosphere and liturgy of Yom Kippur are designed to direct our thoughts towards weighty matters. Recognition of sin, the process of atonement and potential consequences of our actions all feature prominently in the prayers.

Taking a step back, there is one very surprising omission. For a day so strongly focused on sin, punishment and promoting repentance, there is barely any mention of the “eternal hell-fire” so ubiquitous in Christian texts. This prompts us to ask a series of questions: (i) What exactly is the Jewish concept of Hell? (ii) Why does it feature so rarely in Jewish texts? (iii) Does it have any deeper relevance to Yom Kippur?

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Ha’azinu explore the concepts of the World to Come, Gehinnom and resurrection of the dead – primarily from a Maimonidean perspective. A key problem, which troubled a number of leading rabbinic thinkers, is how seemingly physical phenomena, such as the hell-fire described in aggadic literature, can impact on the spiritual (non-physical) soul.

Ramban addresses this problem by proposing an intermediate category – neither entirely physical nor spiritual – to which these concepts relate. He explains that 'hell-fire' does not consist of Earthly substances with which we are familiar, but rather is a special 'quasi-physical' creation by God which is therefore capable of inflicting suffering upon the quasi-physical souls of sinners.

This solution is not available to Rambam, however, who does not subscribe to the notion of a quasi-physical realm for the soul post-death. Twice in his Mishneh Torah, Rambam emphasises that, upon death, the only element of the soul that remains is the mind (sechel). One consequence of this is that the soul which remains after death is not equipped to experience any kind of physical pain which could be inflicted by a fiery Gehinnom.

A further challenge involves the notion of resurrection of the dead to a physical body. Since, in Rambam’s understanding, eternal reward is a spiritual pleasure experienced by the soul alone in the World to Come, it is not immediately clear what benefit such resurrection could provide. After exploring the significant debates which took place over Rambam’s beliefs over techiya, Judaism Reclaimed develops an approach of Rabbi Yosef Albo in Sefer Ha’Ikkarim. According to R’ Albo, resurrection within Rambam’s worldview plays an important role in levelling the playing field, offering opportunities for those who were religiously observant but lacked the resources to develop a strong connection to God and the Torah during their lives. Being temporarily resurrected in a messianic era in which men and women are surrounded by 'tidal waves of knowledge of God' will afford such people a deserved opportunity to maximise their standing in the World to Come.

It is possible that this notion of temporary resurrection in an era of perfection also offers us a way to explain Rambam’s concept of Gehinnom. In such an era of perfection, it is not hard to see how those witnessing these events but who are themselves deprived of such opportunities to participate and develop their connection to God will be consumed by shame and regret at having been personally responsible for their unfortunate situation.

This idea of the wicked being punished in the messianic era by witnessing the spiritual bounty of the righteous while being themselves deprived is supported by a passage in Yeshaya. Addressing the wicked in the Messianic era Yeshaya declares:

“Therefore thus said my Lord, God: Behold, My servants will eat and you will starve … My servants will rejoice and you will be ashamed”. [65:13-14]

Yeshaya’s metaphorical feast is interpreted by Tannaic sages (Shabbat 153a) as a depiction of the contrasting fate of the worthy and unworthy. The righteous will partake of the spiritual ‘feast’ and be satiated, while “ravenous” sinners will be made to “stand and watch”.

Such an approach allows us to decode a whole group of perplexing midrashic sources – for example a statement by Reish Lakish that: "In the future there will be no Gehinnom, rather God will remove the sun from its sheath; the righteous will be cured by it and the wicked will be judged by it".

To summarise, the fires of Gehinnom, are not understood to be literal flames (see also Radak and Metzudat to Yeshayah 31:33). Rather they represent a temporary state of deep shame and humiliation which sinners will feel when faced with the truth and the damage that they have inflicted on their own souls. Non-severe sinners, Rambam writes, will thereby “be judged for their sins and will receive Olam Haba” (Hilchot Teshuva 3:5).

Returning now to the question of Yom Kippur, is there any connection between the purification and atonement offered by Gehinnom and the purification and atonement of Yom Kippur? How is it that Yom Kippur can provide forgiveness for our sins?

The central feature of the Yom Kippur service is viduy – a verbal recitation of our sins before God. On this day we shunt aside our physical needs and desires, and stand before God with a certain spiritual clarity that informs our aspirations and ideals rather than the messy compromises that the realities of everyday life necessitate. In this context – as in the truth of the messianic era – recognising how we have fallen short during the year and lost our moral and religious compasses should lead us to a feeling of deep embarrassment. As we summarise at the end of the viduy “Behold I am before you like a vessel filled with embarrassment and shame” [harei ani lefanecha kichli malei busha uchlimah].

Perhaps going through this process mirrors, to an extent, the shame of Gehinnom. The result is “lifnei Hashem titharu” – that we become cleansed of our sins and thereby gain the opportunity to redefine and recreate our relationship with God in a more positive manner. It is the joy which arises from this whole process which shines through the traditional celebrations at the end of Yom Kippur – a joy which we seek to take with us in the next set of festivals.

First posted to Facebook 2 October 2022, here.

Yom Kippur: I would fast and pray but miss the point of the day

The energy levels had been steadily climbing over the last hour or so. As we approached the conclusion of Ne’ilah, the noise reached a deafening crescendo with many hundreds of swaying worshippers praying with intense fervour. I found my entire self – somewhat light-headed from a day of fasting – swept along in this wave of ecstatic spirituality that was about to reach its feverish peak. Suddenly I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder that jolted me out of my blissful meditation.

“Shmuli – take me to toilet NOW!”

It was Chaim. A mentally and physically disabled resident of the area who used to join our Yeshiva activities from time to time. He particularly enjoyed the Yom Kippur service and was always made a big fuss of. I frantically scoured the room for members of his family or other people who sometimes assisted him before realising that there was no other option. As I helped Chaim slowly up the stairs and to the lavatory, I realised that my Ne’ilah was over. The heartfelt cries of “Shema Yisrael…Hashem hu Ha’Elokim” followed us up the stairs and crept into the heavily-overused bathroom – taunting me as I stood there helplessly, unable to participate

I was silently fuming. After an entire day of fasting and concentration I felt I had been cheated of my sacred spiritual moment – the climax of my religious year.

This episode took place close to 20 years ago. Approximately seven years ago I undertook to start studying Nach – the books of the Prophets – properly. Not just the dramatic storylines of Samson and Solomon, but to try to discern the profound religious messages and teachings that the prophets had confronted the Jewish people with thousands of years ago. This process turned my Judaism upside-down in several ways.

Most significantly, it opened my eyes to perhaps the most fundamental prophetic teaching – one that had actually been hand-picked by the sages in several Haftarot but that, as a yeshiva bochur I had paid scant attention to. Yes, my Yeshiva had always encouraged us to perform acts of kindness. But I had always viewed this as a matter of necessary compromise rather than a key religious activity. Soon after I noticed that the Yom Kippur Haftarah contained the powerful chastisement:

“Can such be the fast I choose, a day when man merely afflicts himself? Can it be merely bowing one’s head like a bulrush and spreading sackcloth and ashes? Do you call this a fast day of favour to God? Surely this is the fast I choose: To break open the shackles of wickedness, to undo the bonds of injustice, and to let the oppressed go free, and annul all perversion. Surely you should break your bread for the hungry, and bring the moaning poor to your home; when you see a naked person clothe him; and do not hide yourself from your kin.” [Isaiah 58:5-7]

It suddenly dawned on me that in that Ne’ilah many years ago, far from having been cheated of a sacred spiritual moment, God had actually been handing me one on a silver platter. I was once again silently fuming on Yom Kippur, but the target of my anger was now very different. I had been through over ten years of standard Jewish education followed by several years of traditional Yeshiva study. Yet it was left for me alone to discover and internalise the key message of the biblical prophets. Year after year school teachers had revised the precise details of the five afflictions of Yom Kippur; until which knuckle on our fingers we could wash. Graphically depicted the waving of chickens round our heads and emphasised the crucial importance of praying with fervour and teshuvah. But never once had I heard the message of this Haftarah – which the sages had clearly intended to associate strongly with Yom Kippur.

To an extent this new awareness and perspective permeated several chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which I had started writing at that time. I promised myself that, if I would ever be in a position to teach others about Yom Kippur, this is something I would seek to rectify. If there are any teachers or Jewish educators reading this ahead of Yom Kippur, this is a message that you should strongly consider sharing and spreading. Focusing Yom Kippur – and Judaism in general – back onto empathising and helping those less fortunate than ourselves should not be seen as a modern day “liberal social justice” ideology. It is a core and inalienable pillar of Judaism which is tragically under-emphasised in today’s Jewish education system.

Wishing all readers a g’mar chatimah tova. And asking forgiveness for anything I have written which has caused offense or upset.

Shmuli

First posted on Facebook 12 September 2021, here.