What We Heard This Rosh Hashanah
Reflections from services, on our way toward Kol Nidre and Yom Kippur
This year, Rosh Hashanah services were beautiful and meaningful. Kol HaKahal, the voice of the congregation, filled the sanctuary like never before, carried by real improvements to our sound system, and the ruach, the spirit, of those moments stayed with us long after each service ended.
Across the sanctuary, a few threads kept surfacing: creation made new out of chaos, the practice of staying present, and the strength we find in showing up for each other. Together, they form a kind of map for the Ten Days of Teshuvah ahead, as we walk from Rosh Hashanah toward Yom Kippur.
Service Introductions: Nishmat Kol Chai & Ha-Melech
Creation, Renewed, and Letting Go of False Kings
Rosh Hashanah is often called the birthday of the world, but our tradition tells it less as a story of something from nothing, and more as one of re-creation: the world emerging out of tohu va'vohu, chaos and darkness, into something new. On this day, we're invited to realign with that same spark within each of us, joining in with the breath of every living thing in praise.
So, I learned a teaching a few years ago by Rabbi Eben Leder, who is a big teacher of mine, big teacher in the Boston area, who teaches and was drashing, giving commentary on this teaching. Rosh Hashanah, as we said, is the birthday of the creation of the world, but the world was not created something from nothing. In fact, in our text, in the Torah, we have, there was tohu v'vohu, darkness and chaos in the world.
And then, the world was created out of that chaos and darkness. So, our story of creation is actually, more authentically, a story of re-creation, from darkness, from chaos, to something new. And a fundamental of Rosh Hashanah is that God is the creator of the whole world, all people, that we realign on this day with the spark in each of us.
What could it look like for us to do that if we're all praising God at one time? We're on page 121, nishmat kol chai, the breath of every living thing shall praise your name, Hashem. And also, in your transliteration, letter E in the blue box.
That same invitation carried into the liturgy's Ha-Melech language, God as sovereign, enthroned, which for many in the room sits uneasily. Rather than asking everyone to accept kingship imagery literally, the offer was to hear it differently: a reminder that we're not actually in control, that no human authority should override what we know to be right, and that the parts of us ruled by habit and desire aren't the whole story. Realigning with the spark within, once again, means remembering we're not the king either.
Chevruta Corner On Ha-Melech, kingship, and who's really in charge + Expand Chevruta: the practice of studying in pairs. This is where we share the thinking behind what you're reading.
A personal reflection, not from services
In many ancient societies, kings and pharaohs presented their rule as divinely sanctioned. Rival rulers could disagree about nearly everything else while sharing the same basic structure: God, then king, then everyone else. That hierarchy could make resistance to the king appear to be resistance to God.
Naming God, and only God, as Melech pushes back against exactly that. It is not a neutral image; it can become an anti-establishment claim that no human ruler is absolute.
Reflect: If calling God "King" was meant to unseat every human claim to that title, what claims to authority in our own lives, political, institutional, even personal, might deserve the same unseating?
Rabbi Aliza's Dvar Torah
Hayom: The Practice of Presence
Okay, let's come back together. So, where's Tali? Is Tali in here? Tali later on is going, yes, Tali later on is going to lead us in the famous ending of Musaf for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Hayom Te Amsenu. If you know this song, sing with me for a second.
Let's all do it together. Hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, hayom, te amsenu, amen. That means, today, today, today, today, today, today, today, today, today, strengthen us, amen.
Hayom, today, Hayom harat olam, today the world was created. Rosh Hashanah is the birthday of the world. And immediately after that, in our liturgy, hayom ya'amid ba'mishpat.
Today, every creature stands in judgment before God. We're about to sing in the next hour, Unetaneh tokef kedushat hayom. Let us declare the powerful holiness of this day, of today.
And we're also in Shabbat today, in our Kabbalat Shabbat service throughout the year, we start with Psalm 95, of the first of six psalms, and we say, hayom im bikolo tishma'u, if you would listen to God's voice today, this day. So, it's clear, there is a lot about today in our liturgy, and especially in our High Holiday Liturgy. As I've mentioned this morning already, this High Holy Day season at HBT, a through line of our services together, is about building spiritual resilience and inner strength in very, very trying times in the world.
We are living in a time when many of us are feeling heart-shattering grief, deep confusion, fear, anxiety, despair, dread. Am I right about that? In my mind, times like these are literally what religion is for. These times are literally what spiritual community is for.
These are times when our synagogue community here at HBT can provide us with spiritual resilience and inner strengthening. That's what this is all about. And so, throughout these High Holy Days, we'll continue to highlight parts of our liturgy, pull out English passages, and continue to invite original voices up here to speak to this theme of spiritual resilience and inner strengthening, so that all of us can access those ideas from multiple different entry points and perspectives.
And so, I want to speak on this theme today, too, on this first day of Rosh Hashanah, when hayom, today, is so deeply highlighted in our liturgy. I believe that we are living in a world right now in which presence, the ability and skill set, really, to live in the now, to live in the today, is being spiritually taken away from us. And we each need to, we must, practice and prioritize the spiritual recovery of our ability to access and act in the present moment with spiritual grounding and centeredness.
What do I mean by this? So many of us are living stuck in the past. We're grasping onto things that we've already lost, either personally or politically. Our stuckness keeps us in fear or regret, instead of in curiosity for the new worlds and new possibilities that could be built.
So many of us, alternatively or maybe additionally, are living in fear of the future. We are already in despair. We have already given up or conceded.
Or we're so anxious about the future that we simply are not actually living in our present and we're not able to act. People agree with this? Anyone experience it yourself? I definitely have. I want to quote Eckhart Tolle from his book, The Power of Now, A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment.
As I read this quote, just listen to how much of this is particularly alive for us in 2026 today in the U.S. Here's his quote. Unease, anxiety, tension, worry, stress, all forms of fear are caused by too much future and not enough presence. Guilt, regret, resentment, grievances, sadness, bitterness, and all forms of non-forgiveness are caused by too much past and not enough presence.
Most people find it difficult to believe that a state of consciousness totally free from all negativity is possible. And yet, this is the liberated state to which all spiritual teachings point. It is the promise of salvation, not in an illusory future, but right here and now.
Wow, it's the promise of salvation, not in the future, but right here and now. Now, importantly, none of this means that we should not have a relationship with our past or our future. We should.
We should learn from our mistakes. We should work with our past skillfully. We should plan campaigns.
We should organize. We should mobilize based on strategies and goals. But we run into a problem when we're out of balance, when our past or future overtakes our present.
And we are very, in my mind, out of balance in 2026. And here's the thing. The only moment, the only moment in which we can act is the present.
I just want everyone to think about that for a moment. The only moment in which we can act is the present moment. We can't act in the future.
We can't act in the past. So when our past or our future clouds our present or overtakes it with fear, with anxiety, with regret, with non-forgiveness, we lose the only ability we have to act from a grounded place. I want to bring us now to our greatest prophet, Moshe.
Moses, the only prophet who spoke face-to-face with God. And of course, the leader of our liberation and redemption from Egypt. I want us to look at two moments of his leadership, one right in the beginning and one right at the end, spanning the time of his prophecy.
In my opinion, reading more and more about Moses these days, I'm starting to see him as a prophet of presence. And here's why. First, let's look at a rabbinic story about the first moment of Moshe's prophecy at the burning bush.
Again, just to review, Moses sees a bush that's aflame, not burning up. He turns to look at it, and when God sees that, God calls out to him from the bush, Moshe, Moshe, and Moshe answers, Hineni, here I am. Already a moment of deep presence.
The rabbis of the Talmud, in a genius move playing with the original text, if anyone wants to hear more about their move, please ask me afterward, it's a whole other Devar, but the rabbis add something incredible on to the story here. I'll read directly from the Talmud. Talmud talking about itself says, The Talmud proceeds to discuss the promise of redemption from Egypt that God made to Moses at the burning bush.
The Holy One, blessed be he, told Moses to go and tell Israel, I was with you in this enslavement and in this redemption, and I will be with you in the enslavement of the kingdoms in the future. Moses said before him, Master of the universe, ribono shel olam, it is enough for them to endure right now. Let the future suffering be endured at its appointed time.
There is no need to mention their future enslavement. The Holy One, blessed be he, agreed with Moses. Everyone get that? So God says here to tell this to the people, Moses, present, able to be present with God, talks back to God.
God says, I'll be with you now, and I'll be with you when you're in trouble in the future. Seems like that might feel nice to hear. God's always with us.
But Moshe says, no, God, we humans, we can only encounter one moment at a time. For the sake of our redemption, in order for us to be liberated, just be with us in the now. Letzara bish'ata, literally, the trouble in its own time.
Let the future suffering be endured at its appointed time. There is no need to mention their future enslavement. The Maharal of Prague, a famous Talmud scholar, philosopher, and mystic, who famously served as chief rabbi of Prague, this is the late 1500s to early 1600s, has something to add to this story about Moshe and God.
And it's important for us here. Commenting on this story, he writes, God knew that Moses, our teacher, peace be upon him, inclines toward the hearts of human beings, and therefore would not want them to know of future troubles. Therefore, Moshe said there is enough suffering in its own time.
The Maharal of Prague is making a claim that God chose Moshe for this reason. I love the Maharal of Prague here, and again, perhaps Moshe, our greatest prophet, most important leader, is the prophet of presence, as we could maybe call him. I want to fast forward now all the way to the book of Deuteronomy, which we have just been reading together over these past weeks, every Shabbat.
Important context for the book of Deuteronomy. In Deuteronomy, the Israelites are on the very edge of getting into the land of Israel. And on the edge there, Moshe, knowing that he himself is going to die, that he himself won't make it into the land of Israel with them, is in the midst of passing off leadership and recounting everything that has happened over the time of his leadership and prophecy to the people.
As our HBT Shabbat regulars here know, Moses has been really alive for me this year in this context, with his life's project, maybe his most important purpose and mission, about to come to a close. Seems like he's desperately trying to recount everything the Israelites need to know in order to live a just life and follow God's commandments when they enter the land. And what does Moshe emphasize here? That's right, hayom.
I want to quote Benjamin D. Sommer, a professor at JTS, the Jewish Theological Seminary, who writes the following in a very recent, this was written in 2020, Torah commentary. He writes, the word hayom is a motif in Deuteronomy occurring 74 times. It serves as what the great Jewish theologians and biblical commentators, Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig, call a guiding word.
Its variations in Deuteronomy provide a key that unlocks a central theme of the book. Hayom simply means today, but it is not always clear which today Deuteronomy intends. Since Moses is the speaker, today must mean the day Moses delivered the speech.
But in other verses, Moses, who after all is speaking as a prophet, appears to speak on behalf of God. So we might infer that hayom refers to the day God revealed the 10 commandments to us. In a single passage, the shift between the two todays breaks down the specificity of the word's reference, allowing Deuteronomy's audiences through time to understand the word as referring not only to these two events in the past, but most importantly to their, to our own present, the day on which we read the parasha.
The today that matters most is whatever day we happen to be reading. That's Benjamin's summary. Moshe, in his final words to the Israelites, and to us as readers, in the weeks right before Rosh Hashanah, as we read from the book of Deuteronomy every single year, guides us towards hayom, guides us to presence.
I want to conclude by saying this. In a world that is providing us many obstacles, deep obstacles, to staying present, and in the now, the literal language of our Torah demands that we stay present. I want everyone to listen to this.
Hayom means today, but a more literal translation of it is this, ha-the-yom, day. A more literal translation of hayom is actually the day. That means that in Hebrew, today literally equals the day.
We cannot act in the past, we cannot act in the future. The present, today, is the day, the only day in which we can act. So to end, we'll hear from a master of presence, Thich Nhat Hanh, the great Vietnamese Buddhist monk, peace activist, and teacher.
This is a quote that has been sticking with me for its intensity. It challenges us to wake up to whatever is preventing us from living hayom. I know I certainly have been guilty of what Thich Nhat Hanh describes, and I'm committing, in this world which I believe is spiritually challenging our ability to be present, to making presence, trying to make presence, a spiritual priority.
Here's Thich Nhat Hanh. Some people live as though they are already dead. There are people moving around us who are consumed by their past, terrified of their future, and stuck in their anger and jealousy.
They are not alive. They are just walking corpses. If you look around yourself with mindfulness, you will see people going around like zombies.
They do not know that life is accessible only in the here and now. I am very, very pleased to welcome up one of our co-presidents now, Jason Ehrenberg.
Rabbi Aliza traced the word hayom, "today," as it echoes through our High Holy Day liturgy: today the world was created, today we stand in judgment, today calls for the courage to listen.
She named this as a through-line for HBT's whole High Holy Day season: in times this hard, our ability to be present is what's under threat. So many of us are stuck in the past, grasping at what's already lost, held in fear and regret rather than curiosity for what could still be built. Just as many of us live in fear of the future, anxious or already so despairing that we stop actually living in the present at all. Either way the cost is the same: we lose the one place any of us can actually act from.
Moshe served as an unlikely model in Rabbi Aliza's dvar, a "prophet of presence" who, at the burning bush, asked God to spare the people news of future suffering, insisting that today's trouble is enough for today. That same word, hayom, appears again and again in Deuteronomy as Moshe's final teachings to the Israelites, always pointing forward to whichever day we happen to be standing in.
The charge to the congregation, repeated for emphasis: "The only moment in which we can act is the present moment. We can't act in the future. We can't act in the past." Presence isn't passive: it's the only place any of us can actually act from, and it takes real practice to return to it.
Ben Park's Dvar Torah: Rosh Hashanah Day 2
Abraham and Isaac: Not Withheld, Not Owned
Very, very pleased that Ben Park will be introducing our Torah reading this morning. Shana Tovah. The Torah portion for today, which begins on pages 208 and 209 in our Mahzor, features the story of the binding of Isaac.
God decides to put Abraham to the test, literally to try him, commanding him to offer up his son Isaac as a sacrificial burnt offering. The chapter that we read here today raises some questions, to put it mildly. Among them, why does God put Abraham and Isaac through such an ordeal? What is the meaning behind this story, and why do we read it today? To introduce some possible answers, let's start right at the climax of the episode.
Spoiler alert. After Abraham takes the knife to slay his son, an angel calls out to him, Abraham, Abraham. That's in verse 11.
And he is instructed not to do anything to him in verse 12. We then read in verse 13 the following, when Abraham looked up, his eye fell upon a ram caught in a thicket by its horns. This echoes beautifully the moment in yesterday's reading when a desperate hagar fears all is lost until her eyes are opened and she sees a well of water.
There is also the connection with the ram whose horn we will hear sounded shortly, our own striking wakeup call. So let's take a small step back from the details of the story to try and better see what is in front of us that we might otherwise be missing here. First, it's interesting to note that at no point in the text do we find something along the lines of, and the Lord said to Abraham, you passed the test.
I don't mean to suggest that we are meant to think that Abraham failed or received an incomplete. He is after all, in verse 17, bestowed with God's blessing and his promised descendants, as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore. Even if Abraham were being graded on a curve that hardly sounds like a consequence of mediocrity or worse.
But for what specific reason is Abraham rewarded? The answer is in verse 16. Because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your favored one. In other words, it's not because Abraham was willing to slaughter his own child, but rather because he did not withhold him.
In fact, the instructions Abraham is given back in verse 2 are, ha'alehu sham le'olah, translated in Aramaxor as, offer him there as a burnt offering, but read literally as, bring him up for a burnt offering. With ha'alehu coming from the same root as the more familiar Hebrew word aliyah, when for example we are called up to the Torah to say a blessing. Why bring him up? Well, perhaps because the location where this is all supposed to happen is Al Echad Echarim on one of the mountains.
My aim here is not to suggest that Abraham woefully misunderstood his instructions, but rather to underscore, as the commentator Rashi points out, that God did not want Abraham to slay Isaac. Then what did God want? What, as we asked earlier, is the meaning behind this story? The late British Rabbi Jonathan Sachs writes the following in an essay on this Torah portion. Quote, to understand the binding of Isaac, we have to realize that much of the Torah, Genesis in particular, is a polemic against worldviews the Torah considers pagan, inhuman, and wrong.
He goes on to recount how in ancient times, authority invariably passed on the death of the father to his firstborn son. Meanwhile, as long as the father lived, children had the status of property rather than persons in their own right. On these two practices, and others, the Torah pushes back.
Neither Isaac, nor later Jacob, nor even later Moses, are firstborn sons to their respective fathers. And I point this out regrettably as a firstborn son myself. And the binding of Isaac specifically refutes the notion that a child can be the property of their parent.
Again, Rabbi Sachs, what God was doing when he asked Abraham to offer up his son was not requesting a child's sacrifice, but something quite different. He wanted Abraham to renounce ownership of his son. He wanted to establish as a non-negotiable principle of Jewish law that children are not the property of their parents.
As to why we read this story on Rosh Hashanah, I think there are many reasons, not just the aforementioned Shofar cameo when Abraham sees the ram. Related to this idea of the Torah differentiating Judaism from other contemporaneous practices, I'd like to conclude with the following. Today marks the second of the so-called Aseret Yimei Chuva, the Ten Days of Repentance.
As we prepare to collectively go through our wrongdoings of the past year, and to look ahead to how we can better ourselves in the year to come, let us remember that what is common practice or the status quo is not always right or just, and that we and our fellow humans are all individuals in our own right. Shana Tova.
Ben Park introduced the Akedah, the binding of Isaac, the Torah reading for Rosh Hashanah Day 2, where God tests Abraham by commanding him to offer up his son. He pointed out something easy to miss: the text never actually says Abraham "passed." Instead, when the angel stops him and Abraham is blessed in the story's final verses, the reason given is specific: not that he was willing to sacrifice his son, but that he did not withhold him.
He also unpacked the original Hebrew instruction to "bring Isaac up," which shares its root with aliyah, the word for being called up to the Torah, a detail commentators like Rashi read as a sign that the offering was never meant to be literal. Drawing on the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Ben framed the story as part of the Torah's broader pushback against ancient norms that treated children as their parents' property: none of the Patriarchs are firstborn sons, and the Akedah itself establishes that a child belongs to no one but themselves.
He closed by naming the day, the second of the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance, as an invitation to examine which "common practices" we've inherited without questioning, and to remember that every person, our own children included, stands as an individual in their own right.
Chevruta Corner Connecting Ha-Melech to the Akedah + Expand Chevruta: the practice of studying in pairs. This is where we share the thinking behind what you're reading.
A personal reflection, not from services
Seen alongside Ben's reading of the Akedah, this becomes more than a parallel. In the ancient world, authority was often arranged through nested hierarchies: the king over his subjects, the patriarch over his household. Ha-Melech places a limit on the first claim; Ben's reading places a limit on the second. No human ruler is absolute, and no parent owns a child. In both cases, Jewish tradition challenges the assumption that power becomes legitimate simply because it is inherited, customary, or declared sacred.
Human beings may exercise authority, but they do not possess one another.
Jason's Bima Appeal
Building Together
Thank you Rabbi Aliza. Greetings everyone. Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova.
Speaking on behalf of my co-president Mark Wilen and the entire HBT board, I want to wish all of our members and guests here today, including those joining remotely, a very happy, healthy, and sweet new year. I'd also like to thank Rabbi Aliza and Eliana Golding, the HBT band, the Avodah committee, our incredibly devoted staff, and every volunteer who helped behind the scenes, greeted you at the door, and even participated in the service today. All of you have done yeoman's work to make this morning beautiful.
It's an exciting time to be here at HBT. Rabbi Aliza has just completed her second year as our rabbi and she's so well integrated into our community that it's hard to believe that she hasn't been here longer. Our membership is at its highest level in five years and still growing.
Our chaverim school is thriving and I don't know if you happen to look up when you approach the building today, but we just installed 126 solar panels on a brand new roof. This would not have been possible without the generosity of this community. I'm so grateful.
Please join us to celebrate this significant milestone with a ribbon cutting ceremony on Friday, September 25th, the first night of Sukkot at 5:45 p.m. But today I'd like to tell you about my firsthand experience in this community that I have grown to love. I've been an HBT member for about 10 years. For the first seven years I wasn't that involved and then little by little I was asked to step up and I found that every time I said yes, I became engaged in meaningful work with good people.
People that I grew to like, admire, and count among my friends. My inner experience of community, the connection that I feel to many of you, grew in direct proportion to my involvement. Paradoxically, the more I gave the more I got in return.
The more of my heart I put into the HBT community, the more my heart was filled by the HBT community. HBT is a Hamas shul that loves and nourishes its members and I know this because this past year was really hard for me and my family. And Rabbi Aliza and our HBT friends were there for us with wise counsel, empathy, hugs, and encouragement.
We felt meaningfully supported and having experienced that support, that love, that connection, as I know many of you have, I want that for every person in this room. So if you're inspired by the services today and are tempted to become more involved, more active, please say yes. Our hearts are open, ready to welcome you.
If you're a member who's deeply involved in this community already, you know what I'm talking about. Thank you. You're already part of HBT's special sauce.
If you're a somewhat less active member, like I was several years ago, we'd like you to be more involved. And if you're a guest, we want you to join because this is what I know for sure. Resilience.
Physical, emotional, spiritual resilience is easier in community. And we're offering you that community. We want to help you find the place where you can feel welcomed and accepted just as you are, where you can become your best self and make an impact on the world, serving alongside people of good intention and building meaningful relationships along the way.
In many ways, indeed I would say the most important ways, we are rich. And I'm very proud to share that your devotion to our shul in recent years has ensured that we have a balanced budget heading into our new fiscal year. This is a tremendous achievement and creates a strong foundation for our coming year.
This financial resilience, of course, relies on our collective generosity, beginning with our pledges today. This is the chance to affirm our shared values. Our generosity sustains the spiritual home where we dove in, where our children learn, where we stand up for justice, and where we are held in joy and in sorrow.
As we welcome 5787 and look forward with great anticipation to all that it will bring, I ask you to join my family in making a meaningful gift to HBT. We have a goal of raising $27,000 and more than half of that has already been donated through early pledges. To all the donors who contributed already, thank you for your leadership and your generosity.
We realize generosity looks different for each of us. For some, it may be an $18 gift. For others, it may be $1,800 or more.
Every contribution matters and every act of giving is received with deep gratitude. And for those for whom financial giving is not possible at this time, please know that your time and your talents are equally vital in sustaining and strengthening our community. So now a few logistics.
Everyone, and I really do mean everyone, please take out your pledge card. It was in the little envelope that you got with your name badge. In just a moment, volunteers will come around to collect them.
If you've already made your pledge or if you're unable to make a gift at this time, we still ask that you pass in your card as is. If you're moved to make a pledge today or to increase a pledge you've already made, please indicate that on your card before passing it in in the envelope. And if you're still considering your pledge and aren't ready to make a decision today, please hold on to your card.
Speaking on behalf of his co-president, Mark Wilen, and the entire board, Jason opened with thanks: to Rabbi Aliza, to the clergy and band, to the Avodah Committee, and to every volunteer who made the morning happen. He named where HBT stands right now: membership at its highest in five years and still growing, Chaverim thriving, and 126 new solar panels on a brand new roof, to be celebrated with a ribbon-cutting on the first night of Sukkot, Friday, September 25th at 5:45pm.
Then he turned personal. A member for about ten years, he described how his own involvement grew "little by little," each yes leading to meaningful work alongside people he came to "like, admire, and count among my friends." In his words: "Paradoxically, the more I gave, the more I got in return. The more of my heart I put into the HBT community, the more my heart was filled by the HBT community." He spoke about this past year being genuinely hard for him and his family, and how Rabbi Aliza and the HBT community showed up with "wise counsel, empathy, hugs, and encouragement." "We felt meaningfully supported," he said, "and having experienced that support, that love, that connection... I want that for every person in this room."
He named resilience, physical, emotional, spiritual, as something "easier in community," and pointed to real footing behind that: HBT is heading into the new fiscal year with a balanced budget, made possible, he said, by the congregation's own devotion and generosity. Then came the appeal itself: a $27,000 goal for this year's pledges, more than half already committed through early gifts, with every size welcomed, "for some, it may be an $18 gift, for others $1,800 or more," and, for anyone unable to give right now, an equal invitation to give time and talent instead.
Taken together, these teachings invite us to begin again, stay present, question what we have inherited, and show up for one another. Jason's reminder of HBT's 126 new solar panels offers a fitting final image: a community turning shared values into something visible, practical, and hopeful. As we move through the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Return, toward Kol Nidre and Yom Kippur, we carry these threads with us. View the Kol Nidre & Yom Kippur schedule →