You Shall Afflict Your Souls

Sunday, September 20, 2026 - Yom Kippur

Rabbi Ari Jun

Allied Person of Faith

Quote

Is not this the fast I want–

the opening of the bonds of wickedness,

the loosening of the bindings of the yoke,

and the free release of those who are oppressed,

and that every yoke be broken?

~Isaiah 58:6, (author’s translation)

Devotion

As a Jew, I fast on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. This custom comes from an interpretation of Leviticus 16:29, in which God commands the Israelites t’anu et-nafshoteichem, “you shall afflict your souls.” Early in my people’s history, this came to be understood as an implicit instruction to engage in fasting on the day for that “affliction,” the tenth of the month of Tishrei.

Incidentally, each Yom Kippur our communities also read from Isaiah 58, in which God satirizes the voice of the Israelites, which God imagines saying: “Why do you not see us, even though we fasted; you know us not, though we afflicted our souls?” (Isa. 58:3). Continuing, Isaiah 58:6 provides an answer from God to the supposed question, as quoted above: “Is not this the fast I want–the opening of the bonds of wickedness, the loosening of the bindings of the yoke, and the free release of those who are oppressed, and that every yoke be broken?”

The balance between these two concepts is hardly easy: Here Jews are, thousands of years later, both engaging in a fast and reading about how that isn’t the point of the holiday! Nevertheless, I find myself continually drawn to the custom. Not because I believe the point is the fast itself, nor because I think God particularly cares about whether I fast or not. Instead, it’s because of the ways in which this particular custom creates a visceral connection between my embodied experience and deeper questions of reflection and action.

All day on Yom Kippur, no matter what I am doing, my hunger is a reminder that something is different. Though I’ll generally be found in a synagogue during the holiday, I could be walking through a shopping mall or Times Square…and the fast in which I’m engaged would remind me that although the world around me goes on as if everything is normal, it isn’t.

For those who live at variance with the normative cultures or experiences of their societies, this can be a common experience–the push and pull between things that feel “ordinary” going on around them, but living with persistent reminders that the ordinary is absent. And whether the individuals having such experiences choose always to share them–coming out of the closet, as it were–or whether they keep what they’re going through to themselves, the alternate reality in which they exist colors everything around them.

As with my Yom Kippur fast, as portrayed in Isaiah, we can choose either to ignore this additional aspect of our embodied experience, or we can use this “bonus” lens through which we see the world as a guide to do more good. To echo those biblical words, I’d have us each ask:

“Is not this what God wants–

that our pain causes us to empathize,

our exclusion leads to inclusion,

and that our alienation creates for others a new home,

and that our hunger be for justice?”

Reflection

For me, as I mark Yom Kippur (“celebrate” isn’t quite the right word!), I know I’ll be preoccupied by a literal hunger, not just a metaphoric one. Nevertheless, these are the questions I will strive to ask–and it’s what I hope allies such as me can keep centered.

1.    What are the “hunger pangs” in our day-to-day that can remind us that even if everything feels normal on its surface, that there is brokenness not too far beneath?

2.    What concrete steps will we next take to make the world a better place?

Action

Reach out to someone outside of your usual circle and make an effort to understand their life experience. What are their greatest joys and struggles?