Rabbi Andrea’s Sermon 1st October 2025 / 10th Tishrei 5786

"WITH THOSE WHO HAVE SINNED"

Tonight is Kol Nidre. And before we even turn inward, we must acknowledge the world outside.

It is not an easy time to be Jewish. Antisemitism is rising again—on the streets, on campuses, online.Old hatreds dressed in new clothes. And beyond that, we hear words that wound us deeply: accusations of genocide, as if our people—scarred by persecution and extermination—could ever be guilty of the very crime once committed against us.

I keep on telling all the time: in the Middle Ages they lied about us and accused us of killing children to use their blood to bake matza, a nonsense on so many levels. And nothing changes. Today they accuse us of murdering Palestinian children because of our lust for land.Nothing changes really. Like the medieval blood libel, the contemporary accusation "Israel is committing genocide" has become common sense, a belief shared on the Right as well as on the Left, and very few dare question it. Those who do are shamed as complicit.

The suspicion and hostility directed toward us will not vanish tomorrow. We are living in a hard and heavy time, which makes this night even more urgent. Because if the world presses against us from the outside, we cannot allow ourselves to be divided on the inside. Kol Nidre calls us to honesty. And honesty is never easy.

Most of the year, we protect ourselves. We tell ourselves comforting stories: “I did nothing wrong. If there was conflict, I did not start it. My mistakes are small. Theirs are big.” We minimise our faults. We magnify the faults of others. It is human. It is a defence mechanism. Why do we do this? Because we are afraid. Afraid of shame. Afraid of consequences. Afraid of losing face. So we hide.

There is a story about Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk. A man once came to him and said: “Rebbe, I have sinned so much, I am ashamed to confess before God.”

And the Kotzker replied: “Do you think God doesn’t know already? It is like a child who covers his eyes and says: ‘You cannot see me.’ God sees you. The real question is: will you see yourself?”

That is what this night is for. Not to reveal to God what He does not know. But to reveal to ourselves what we have buried. And to begin again.

But honesty tonight must also extend beyond the individual. We must be honest about our community. This year we faced painful divisions. We love this building—its walls, its sanctuary, its stones. They hold our history, our memories, our prayers. The building was listed, and questions arose of how to respond. Passion flared. Arguments grew heated. And it hurt. Because this synagogue is not just a building. It is us. The process is ongoing. There will be more conversations, more meetings, more difficult work ahead. And so, we must decide: Will we remain fractured, or will we come together to face the future as one?

Here I want to remind us of something profound: We Jews encounter God through the Talmud. 

And what is the Talmud? Not a single voice. But many voices, arguing, disagreeing, contradicting. Page after page of debates. And yet, in that clash of opinions, we believe we hear the voice of God. Because disagreement, when it is for the sake of heaven, is not a threat—it is a path to truth.

So too in our community: Different opinions need not tear us apart. They can make us wiser, stronger, if we hold them with respect and love.

If we remain divided, we will weaken ourselves. But if we stand together—if we honour our differences and still see one another as family—then we will be strong enough to face whatever comes.

Kol Nidre begins with words of release: "we are permitted to pray with each other who have sinned, anu mattirim lehitpallel im ha-avaryanim." The liturgy itself insists: Do not exclude. Do not divide. The building’s future is not yet written.  But the future of our community depends on us.

So tonight, I ask each of us: Can we let go of bitterness? Can we admit:“Yes, perhaps I spoke too sharply. Perhaps I judged too quickly. Perhaps I forgot that my neighbour loves this synagogue as much as I do.” This is the work of Yom Kippur. Not perfection. Honesty. And the courage to begin again. We are blessed. Blessed to have this synagogue. Blessed to have one another.  Blessed to have a God who looks at us tonight and says: “You are not perfect, but you are mine. You may stumble, but you can always return.”

And tonight, we pray: chatimah tovah—that we may be inscribed in the Book of Life.

But let us remember: The Book of Life is not only in heaven. We write the Book of Life with our choices, our words, our unity.

If we choose honesty. 

If we choose forgiveness. 

If we choose one another.

Remember, we are the chosen people because we chose one another.

Then our community’s story in the Book of Life will be strong, enduring, full of blessing.

So let us return. Let us do teshuva. Not as factions. Not as winners and losers. But as one community. United. Cohesive. 

Ready to face the world with courage and hope.

Gmar chatimah tovah.

Rabbi Dr. Andrea Zanardo, PhD