Jewish law says we are to fast on Yom Kippur. This is based on the biblical law
that on the Day of Atonement, “You shall afflict yourselves” (Lev. 23:27),
which was interpreted as early as the return from the Babylonian exile as
“fasting” (e.g., Isa. 58: 3). Though the original meaning of the Levitical text
is not clear, one rationale is that on this particular day, we need to
concentrate on the needs of the human spirit rather than the materialistic
aspects of life.
But this is not what happened in my childhood synagogue in
Turkey.
I came to America in 1961 but grew up in the Orthodox Jewish
community of Istanbul. It was (and still is) predominantly Sephardic,
consisting of Jews who originally came from Spain after their expulsion in
1492. There is also a Karaite group that has no connection at all with the
Sephardic (Rabbanite) community.
In Istanbul during the High Holidays, it was customary – and
I presume it is still is the case today – to “sell” the honors for the Torah
service. This was done during the morning services of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. The gabbai (administrator) of
the synagogue actually stood on the pulpit and conducted an auction: “100
Turkish liras for the petihah [opening of the Ark],” “100 Turkish
liras for gelilah [uncovering the Torah],” “100 Turkish liras
for the first aliyah,” etc. People raised their hands and increased the price for each
honor. When the gabbai felt that the auction had reached its highest
point, he would say, “The honor is sold to Mr. Kohen,” or Mr. Levi, or whomever
paid the most.
Because it was a holy day, when Jewish law states it is
prohibited to record bids, a prominent member of the congregation, standing in
the back of the synagogue, would instead turn over a flap of a pre-set card and
keep it until the end of the service. Turkish synagogues used these funds to meet
their deficit. The interesting corollary of the practice was that the person
who won the honor never used it for himself, but always gave it to another as a
matter of courtesy.
I remember vividly that one year, when I was a child at Neve
Shalom in Galata – the largest synagogue in Istanbul – the gabbai got up
and started the auction. Sitting in the congregation, there was a rich man from
Georgia by the name of Mr. Chikvashvilli. As was his custom, he began to offer
his price, increasing it ever so slowly. In the past, no one challenged him,
because he was extremely wealthy and but also very generous. This time,
however, there was another Jew sitting in the pews who did not know Mr.
Chikvashvilli, and he began to increase the bidding. The congregation was aghast
as the two gentleman competed ferociously with one another.
As everyone waited to see who would go higher, Mr.
Chikvashvilli got up from his seat and exclaimed, “I will sell the factory, but
this honor is mine.” We all stood silently, waiting to see what the other
bidder would do. Thankfully, he relented, and the Georgian congregant got his
honor.
That particular event became legendary during my youth, but
the entire practice left a very bad taste in my mouth. I did not like the
selling of “honors” in the synagogue, especially during the High Holidays, and
vowed that I would never follow this tradition.
Thankfully, I went on to become a Reform rabbi, and in
Reform Jewish practice, honors are not sold during religious services. Still, I
cannot forget that momentous day when a whole synagogue in a faraway country
stood on its toes for an honor that spoke more about the buyer than the spirit
of the religious event that took place in a sacred place.
We can now concentrate on the needs of the spirit, and,
at least for one day, stay away from the materialistic world that requires our
attention all the time. May you have a meaningful Yom Kippur.
Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D.
Published in ReformJudaism.org : 9/17/2015
