Most of us have routines; set ways in which we like to do things. Such routines are comfortable and comforting. If a routine is upset for some reason, we may be a bit out of sorts, but it has no more significance than an interruption of how we like to do things.
Ritual, as opposed to routine, is another matter. Ritual is a sequence of actions performed in a prescribed order, typically of a religious nature. Those who conduct the ritual must be familiar with it to ensure that they are adhering to the details. Some rituals are esoteric, some are highly approachable. Regardless of a ritual's origin and intent, it is up to the individual to infuse a specific ritual with meaning.
One of the central virtues of ritual is that it helps provide a structure for both the mundane and the special. We seem to intuit this so far as occasions go; having the ritual to help prescribe our roles and participation in weddings, funerals and such can be a great comfort. Less apparent is the degree to which it does the same for our more pedestrian pursuits.
Consider the ritual of washing one's hands before eating. Many cite this practice, along with cleaning for Passover, as a reason that the Bubonic plague was far less prevalent among Jewish communities in Europe. We were into regular hand-washing long before it was fashionable. But, of course, ritual isn't about fashion. It is about providing protocols with which we may merge our faith and our actions.
We are in the midst of a rather intensive three weeks of ritual, between Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Sh'mini Atzeret. To an extent, we cannot have much of what binds us to these observances. The memories of gathering for services, of catching up with those we may only see once in the year. The familiar melodies and the emotions they conjure. To a large extent, these are replaced with sitting in our own home, making a community electronically. Due to the technical limitations of Zoom, we cannot sing together. It definitely was not the same experience. But it was an experience. In spite of the obstacles we found a way to worship with others and to demarcate this time as holy.
The meaning and significance of this year's High Holiday season is, then, a measure of what we have brought to it. Did we seek meaning in the prayers, or did we wait for it to be brought to us? Did we take advantage of the more private nature of this year's services, or did we allow ourselves to be distracted by the countless minutiae that present themselves?
As we sit on the brink of Sukkot, we may yet continue to find meaning and perhaps even inspiration in this new mode of worship. Just as the Jews of centuries ago had to adjust to worship outside the Temple in Jerusalem, but prayed to be able to return, we may yet adjust to our new ritual, while hoping to return to that which we know.
Cantor Socoloff