. . . way back in 1970, my first year in California, I was about as distant from Judaism as it was possible to be. How distant? It was Erev Yom Kippur and I had no idea that it was. But the TV was on in the living room of my house in Gualala, California, and I just happened to be walking through the room when a news broadcast caught my attention. They were doing a feature about Yom Kippur. Someone was playing Kol Nidre on a cello. It went through me like a knife. That melody struck a deep chord. It went all the way in. It went straight to my soul.

When we recite the Kol Nidre, God calls out to the soul, in a voice the soul recognizes instantly because it is the soul’s own cry. You may have come here for other reasons. You may not have come here because you knew your soul needed to hear this. Nevertheless, here you are, sitting in your body and suddenly your soul hears this music and it gives a jump, and it startles you to feel this. Your soul is hearing its name called out, and its name is . . . pain — grief — shame — humiliation — loss — failure — death, or at least, that is its first name. That is the name the first few notes of the Kol Nidre calls out.

. . . the thing about the Kol Nidre is that it starts at this moment of heartbreak. This moment is the ground of its being. And it comes on so suddenly, so abruptly. There is no buildup whatsoever. It’s the very first thing that happens. It happens even before we have a chance to sit down.

No, excuse me; there is something that happens first. But if you came in even fifteen seconds late you may have missed it. Before we recite the Kol Nidre, we convene a Beit Din, a rabbinical court — these [three] people standing on the Bima with the Torahs — and they give us permission to pray Im (with) Ha-avaryonim. But what does this mean? Who are the avaryonim and why does a court need to convene in order to give us permission to pray with them?

***
May our supplications rise at nightfall,
Our prayers approach Your presence from the dawn,
And let our exultation come at dusk.

May our voices rise in prayer at nightfall,
Our righteousness ascend to You from dawn,
And let redemption come to us at dusk.

May our sorrows rise to You at nightfall,
Our pardon come from the break of dawn,
And may You hear our cries at dusk.

My our trust in You rise up at nightfall,
Our hope be granted for Thy sake from dawn,
And let our expiation come at dusk.

May our liberation rise at nightfall,
Our cleansing from guilt come from the dawn,
And let Your grace be manifest at dusk.

May our merits rise to You at nightfall,
Our congregation plead with You from dawn,
And let Your glory shine for us at dusk.

May we knock upon Your gates at nightfall,
Our joy and gladness come to us from the dawn,
And grant our plea at dusk.

May our cries rise up to You at nightfall,
Our anguish reach Your presence from the dawn,
And turn to us in mercy at dusk.