This Yom Kippur, we will sing together:
כִּי הִנֵּה כַּחֹֽמֶר בְּיַד הַיּוֹצֵר / בִּרְצוֹתוֹ מַרְחִיב וּבִרְצוֹתוֹ מְקַצֵּר / כֵּן אֲנַֽחְנוּ בְּיָדְךָ
Like clay in the hands of the potter / if he wills it, he expands it and if he wills it he contracts it / so too are we in Your hands.
This piyyut conveys Hashem’s power over our destinies. God is the artisan and determines how we will turn out: will we be large or small? Will we be strong or fragile? And for how long?
Lately I have taken up pottery; it is fun, frustrating, and creative. My experience becoming a potter has made me think more deeply about this piyyut. I like to feel wet clay spinning underneath my hands. As it spins, something new starts to form. The clay sometimes seems to have a mind of its own. The more centered it is on the wheel, the more perfect its final shape will be. And yet I know, as many potters do, that perfection isn’t achievable. Because once you get the clay centered, then comes the firing, and then the glazing. Everything can change from one piece to another depending on the heat of the kiln, the stirring of the glaze, the amount of time the pottery is in contact with the glaze, the position of the pot in the kiln, and more. No two pieces can be made under the exact same conditions, and so no two pieces will be exactly alike.
As with pottery, and as in this piyyut, no two people come out exactly alike.
I share my newfound ceramics hobby with my teenager. This metaphor took on a deeper level of meaning when I broke one of my daughter’s bowls. She was away and I missed her, so I put my lunch in a bowl she had made. It was perfect in my eyes: she had turned the bowl to be almost perfectly centered, and then beautifully glazed it with four overlapping colors. Its shape felt so good in my hands. To me, it was one of her best pieces.
And then I broke it. Just like that.
Even worse: I had to tell her that I broke one of her best pieces.
I watched her face change as she registered which bowl it was. At first she didn’t seem that upset, and I was glad about that because I felt so guilty. But then, her lip began to quiver. Tears started to form. She told me, “this was the one from my studio at camp.” My child lives for this camp! She has deep friendships there; she accesses the most creative parts of herself there. It was clear to me that this was about more than the beautiful bowl that I had seen. It was about the place and time she created it in, the friends that surrounded her when she made it. It embodied an evanescent moment in time, a moment she wants to hold in her heart all year long.
It is the same with people. We are vessels. We embody thoughts, feelings, actions. We are strong, like a clay pot that can withstand the heat of the kiln. But we are also fragile. Just like that, a vessel can break. And when the vessel breaks, what we are left with are those thoughts, feelings, and memories. We are left with how that person made us feel by their very presence, released by the broken vessel.
כִּי הִנֵּה כַּחֹֽמֶר בְּיַד הַיּוֹצֵר / בִּרְצוֹתוֹ מַרְחִיב וּבִרְצוֹתוֹ מְקַצֵּר / כֵּן אֲנַֽחְנוּ בְּיָדְךָ
It is true that we are vessels formed by our Creator, each of us carrying a unique inner light, our neshama. We are shaped by God’s hands and impacted by the conditions around us. But Yom Kippur also reminds us that what we do with it is our own. We have choices about how we show up in this world.
Yom Kippur reminds us that, despite our own fragile nature, we can also have a significant impact on others and the world. After the vessel shatters, its memory still remains. The impact of our actions ripple outward, and once we have done something, it cannot be undone. When my child’s bowl broke, all she could think of was all that it represented. When our vessel breaks, and no longer contains who we are on this earth, how do we want to be remembered? What feelings do we want it to release? As the parent that opened their heart to their child’s difference in being LGBTQ+? As a LGBTQ+ person who has compassion for their parents after they have come out? As a teacher who is challenged by a student’s gender identity but saw through to their neshama even though seeing through those parts of them may be challenging?
Hashem created each of us with a Divine spark and understanding to make choices – it is up to us what we do with it.
May this year bring us opportunities to reshape ourselves for the better.