Gut Yontif.

Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, founder of modern Hasidism taught that "In the heavenly court there is no one who can judge you for what you have done in your life on earth. "So, this is what they do: They show you a person's life - all the achievements and all the failures, all the right decisions, and all the wrong-doings. Then they ask you, 'What should we do with this person?' You give your verdict, which they accept. Only then are you told that the person whose life you were judging was you." And the Baal Shem Tov would add, "Those who tend to judge others favorably have a decided advantage. Better get in the habit now."

In the eyes of our tradition, this is the day of our Judgment. The somber mood, the austere lament of Kol Nidre, and the words of our liturgy all point to this most serious day on our Jewish calendar. As we did on Rosh Hashanah, tomorrow we will again turn to one of the cornerstones of our High Holy Day liturgy, the U-netaneh Tokef prayer. In a way, this prayer, more than any other, sets the serious, intense tone of these Days of Awe, especially Yom Kippur. In part, the prayer reads: Let us proclaim the sacred power of this day: it is awesome and full of dread. For on this day Your dominion is exalted,

Your throne established in steadfast love; there in truth You reign. In truth You are Judge and Arbiter, Counsel and Witness, You write and You seal, You record and recount. You remember deeds long forgotten.

In the words of Rabbi JJ Schachter, this prayer speaks the language of "radical anthropomorphism." That anthropomorphism troubles us as our prayer speaks graphically of God judging us. Let's face it - We don't like to be judged. Our prayer does not stop at God's role as "Judge and Arbiter, Counsel and Witness." As the first part of the prayer reaches its climax, it states: "You open the book of our days, and what is written there proclaims itself, for it bears the signature of every human being."For the Rabbis this day is not just about standing before God in judgment. We must also stand, openly and honestly, before ourselves. We must hold ourselves to account. We judge ourselves. How do we engage in judging ourselves, uncomfortable as that may be?

In a recent article Rabbi David Wolpe writes: "When reading a novel, we almost invariably flip the pages to see how many remain until the end. For we always know when stories of imagination will end. The movie will run a few hours, the book so many pages. We do not know how they will end, but we know when. This is," writes Wolpe, "a major difference between a true story and an invented one: in life we cannot count the pages or check the clock. The end of our story could come at any moment, or not for years."

It is this reality which confronts us today. On this most holy of nights in our Jewish year, we come face-to-face with our mortality; with the frailty and uncertainty of life; and with our heartfelt desire to seize hold of our time and make the best possible use of it. As we yearn and pray for a fresh page in the Book of Life - in the Book of our life. We simply do not know how many pages remain for us. So many aspects of our observance during these days make us focus on our mortality: our liturgy, the act of fasting, and even the white robes worn by those who serve as shlichei tzibbur, prayer leaders during these Holy Days. If we were gathered in a traditional synagogue this night, we would notice not only the clergy dressed in white, but quite possibly many in the congregation as well. As with most things in Jewish life, there isn't one simple explanation for the white robes worn during these Days of Awe. One interpretation is that the wearing of white clothes on Yom Kippur likens the community to angels. Yet another suggests that the white garb represents the pristine state to which we seek to return as we are cleansed and refined, forgiven and renewed through our observance of these Holy Days. Perhaps the most well-known explanation is that they are a reminder of death. According to tradition when someone dies, he is buried in simple white shrouds or a kittel. The white robes represent these shrouds. Why a symbol of death on a day when we are meant to focus on our lives? We wear white, especially on Yom Kippur, to bring us face-to-face with our mortality. The white robes represent the fragility of life. They are a reminder that at some point, our story too, will end. The Rabbis believed facing our mortality forces us to examine our lives. How do we do this? What questions should we be asking ourselves as we engage in such self-reflection? Turning to the wisdom of the Talmud we read that the 3rd century sage Rabba said, "When a person is led in for Judgment he is asked the following four questions: Did you conduct your affairs honestly and with integrity? Did you fix times for learning? Did you engage in building relationships, and in strengthening your family? Did you anticipate redemption?" I believe these four questions are as relevant for us today as they were over 1,700 years ago when Rabba first posed them. I believe they are questions we should ask ourselves on this most holy and solemn of days. These are questions worthy of our consideration as we face our mortality, as we humbly ask for the blessing of yet another year in the Book of Life.

The first question asks, "Did you conduct your affairs honestly and with integrity?" We live in a world in which we read and hear daily of malfeasance and misdeeds. We wonder what's happening to the world? Rabbi Mark Greenspan notes that, "The institutions upon which we once depended have failed us -- we feel powerless and alone. Less than a decade ago, America's CEO's were our cultural heroes. But greed has taken a toll on our society. Today we feel betrayed as we witness the large amounts of money these leaders have taken while 'John Q' struggles with the knowledge that his retirement fund is worthless. Even our religious leaders have failed us -- the scandals affecting the Catholic Church have had a devastating effect on all organized religions. We wonder who we can trust and to whom we can turn." Rabba's first question, "Did you conduct your affairs honestly and with integrity?"is an important one each of us must ask ourselves. While we may not be fully able to answer for the malfeasance of others, we must recognize that honesty and integrity are vitally important ingredients in determining the quality of our character. They are important qualities in more than just the "business" of our lives. They are equally important in all of our interactions. As we examine our souls, our words, our deeds, we should each ask ourselves: In the various interactions of my life - with my family, with my community, with my professional colleagues, with my friends - Have I conducted myself honestly? Have I acted with integrity?

Rabba's second question, "Did you fix times for learning?" is no surprise coming from one of the giants of early Rabbinic Judaism. For the Rabbis, all of life is predicated on the importance of learning. In a passage from the Talmud which has become part of our Morning liturgy on Shabbat morning, and which we will recite tomorrow morning we read: "These are the obligations without measure, whose reward, too, is without measure: To honor father and mother; to perform acts of love and kindness; to attend the House of Study daily; to welcome the stranger; to visit the sick; to rejoice with bride and groom; to console the bereaved; to pray with sincerity; to make peace where there is strife." In the end we are taught that "The study of Torah is equal to them all." Learning not only informs living - it energizes and invigorates us. What a blessing it can be to wrestle with the teachings of our ancient tradition, drinking in the wisdom of generations past as we add our own voice for today and for generations yet-to-come. It matters not how much text, or even what you study. What is important is that learning is a vital part of living. The Midrash teaches: "If you have acquired knowledge, what do you lack? If you lack knowledge, what have you acquired?" While our Rabbis are keenly interested in Torah learning, I suggest we can read Rabba's question more expansively, for in truth all learning is important. Think about the last time you undertook to learn something new. How did it make you feel? One way to make ourselves come alive in this new year is to set for ourselves the goal of learning.

On a literal level, Rabba's third question specifically asks whether one has engaged in "being fruitful and multiplying." But the Rabbis never read words only in their narrowest sense. Therefore, once again I suggest we expand the literal meaning of his words, which ask about bringing children into the world, to include the broader matter of building and expanding relationships. "Did you engage in strengthening family, and in building relationships?" Judaism teaches us that life is lived in the contexts of family and community. As we examine our lives, it is important that we explore the ways in which we have utilized our time, energy, words and actions to create meaningful relationships. In his book, When All You've Ever Wanted Isn't Enough, Rabbi Harold Kushner writes: "I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children playing in the sand. They were very hard at work, building a sand castle . . . when they had nearly finished their project, a wave came along a knocked it down. I expected the children to burst into tears . . . But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realized that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy building, are built on sand. Only our relationships to people endure. Sooner or later the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When this happens, only the person who has somebody's hand to hold will be able to laugh." How we engage in building, enhancing, healing and nurturing our relationships - with our spouses, partners, children, parents, friends, colleagues, and neighbors are important ingredients in the quality and character of our lives. Yom Kippur offers us the chance to examine our efforts as we resolve to improve our relationships as we head off into the as-yet young New Year.

Rabba's final question is powerful and, in some ways, may be the most important: "Did you anticipate redemption?" It could easily be phrased, "Do you have hope?" Week-by-week I listen to parents speak from this bimah to their daughters and sons on the occasion of their becoming bat and bar mitzvah. I often hear parents express concerns as their children face their on-coming adult lives in a complex, confusing, and often frightening world. As I discussed on Rosh Hashanah, we live in a world in which we see evil all around us. There are so many challenges we face that it can sometimes seem daunting to face the future with hope: Corruption, violence, hatred, a devastatingly poor economy which has wrecked havoc with the lives and dreams of so many in our midst, and so much more. We are a nation at war on multiple fronts, and a nation divided over the quality of the leaders who serve us. It is easy to understand why so many in our midst look to the future with pessimism. Yet, even as our Jewish tradition calls us to face our world with open eyes and honestly, it does not permit us to give in to despair. Ours has been a history filled with cause for despair. Yet, even in the darkest nights of our people's journey, one of the strengths of the Jewish people has been our stubborn refusal to give up hope. For the past two millennia hope for a better tomorrow, faith in our ability to improve - our world, the plight of those who suffer around us, and our own lives - has been at the core of living a life informed by Jewish values and teachings. On this sacred night, as we face our own mortality, as we face all that may be broken or imperfect in our lives, all that is broken in our world, we are nonetheless, called to face tomorrow, and a year of tomorrows spread before us, with hope. We need hope! Whatever the past year has laid before us, this night we are at the beginning of a new chapter of our lives. Tradition teaches us to approach this new chapter with hope, even with faith, that it can be better.

During this long day of reflecting on our mortality and future, as we are judged and judge ourselves, let us look deeply into the recesses of our hearts. Let us each use this day as an opportunity to wipe clean the slate of old embitterments, grudges, failings, and resentments. In short, let us rid ourselves of all that has poisoned - our words, deeds, and relationships in the year gone by. Let us ask ourselves Rabba's questions - not simply with an eye to the past - but more specifically with an eye towards the future: "In the New Year, will I conduct my affairs honestly and with integrity? During 5764 will I fix times for learning? Will I engage in building relationships, and in strengthening my family? And finally, will I hope and work for redemption?" The Hasidic master Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk taught that there are three responses to the doing of an act: "Some day I will do it" - this is self-deception; "I want to do it" - this is weakness; and "I am doing it" - that is the right way" for it leads to change, it leads to action. G'mar Chatimah Tovah.