High Holiday Theology: Another Perspective

Our Father, our King, my Rabbi?  by Maya Ungar

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are arguably the most God-centered holidays of the Jewish calendar. Surely the other shloshet haregalim, Passover, Sukkot and Shavuot, also discuss God, but in my opinion, it is more about what God has done for the people of Israel, and less about the relationship itself. Passover is all about God redeeming the Jewish people from Egypt, Shavuot is about God bestowing the Torah to us, and Sukkot is about God protecting the Israelites in the desert. These holidays are rooted in celebrating and remembering historical moments from the Bible that still carry resonance today. In my opinion, these moments on the calendar are relatively simple theologically- they celebrate God as the One who does good to the Jewish people. It’s pure love, uncomplicated. The High Holidays, however, are categorically different. Although Rosh Hashana does celebrate the creation of the world, the two holidays aren’t about what God has done for the Jewish people in history, but rather, about our eternal relationship with the Divine. It is easy to celebrate a God who exclusively does good for us, but far more difficult to grapple with the questions about how we relate to God, and how God relates to us.

In traditional high holiday liturgy, there are two archetypes for how we see God in relationship to the Jewish people. It is encapsulated in the prayer Avinu Malkeinu, translated as “Our Father, Our King”. Does the juxtaposition of these terms suggest contradiction, or does the pairing of the two titles add up to something more than just the sum of two parts? The two concepts of relationship to God, connote entirely different things. Both terms originate from verses in Isaiah, which is heavily God centered in relation to many other books in Tanach. The relationship of Parent-Child connotes a sense of personal connection and love, where the parent devotes everything they have to supporting and loving their child. The King-Subject relationship, on the other hand, is about hierarchy and legal responsibilities. Rabbi Akiva famously said “Our Father, Our King, we have no king other than you. Our Father, Our King, for your sake, have mercy on us”, which has become the beginning of the prayer. We want God to act as a ruler for us, but also as a loving Father who has mercy on us, despite our sins. Rabbi Sacks comments on the order of the two titles, saying that “God is our King, and a king rules by justice. But before God is a king He is a parent. A parent loves. A parent lets love override strict justice. A parent forgives.” I don’t know much about living in a monarchy, but government and law in general rule out judgements, without a personal connection to the wrongdoer. A parent, on the other hand, lets the relationship inform their response, letting the love and affection inform how they react to the situation. To me, the parent-child relationship seems much more preferable to a harsh king. So why do we also desire a monarch? 

In a recent conversation with a British friend of mine, I asked her what she thought about the idea of monarchy, something that was relatively foreign to me. She said that while there was certainly inherent inequity with the idea of a royal family, it also united the British people in a way. She described the way that the entire country followed the royal wedding, and how all the British people mourned the death of Queen Elizabeth. The idea that this family was a staple in the collective memory and understanding of a people, is deeply uniting. There was something regal, and because of its removal from the realm of everyday life, it created a sense of mystery and adoration. In addition to viewing God as the judge who rules out judgement, perhaps the analogy of King encourages the Jewish people to gather together in their feeling of reverence for the Divine. While a child has an intimate and individual relationship with their parent, a constituency that reveres their ruler develops a relationship with one another. 

Father and King reflect two prominent spheres of Jewish life, the family/ home, and peoplehood (and maybe Temple?). However, since the inception of Rabbinic Judaism, there has been another structure of Jewish living, with the leader being the Rabbi. People still had their family as the most intimate form of Jewish community, and still felt a sense of belonging in the greater Jewish people, but there emerged an intermediate circle. The kehilla was the Beit Midrash, where groups of students, ranging in size, would learn Torah from their Rabbis, and work with chavrutas to parse the texts. In more modern times, Rabbis are more commonly thought of as a leader of a prayer community, but I am blessed to live a life where my rabbis primarily serve as teachers and role models (shoutout Pardes!). Students develop a personal relationship to their rabbi(s) and teachers, not only learning text but also asking deep questions and seeking advice. A rabbi has a different and slightly more removed perspective than a parent, and is a perfect person to grapple and think with. A rabbi certainly doesn’t (or shouldn’t) replace the role of a parent, but can serve in a slightly different role that can also be tremendously influential in the students life. And also, the format of the classroom, with the Rabbi/teacher as the guide, forms an intimate type of community among the students. We engage in an ancient Jewish practice together, studying foundational texts and asking deep questions about life. This experience leads to an intense form of a microcommunity, rooted in a shared goal and practice. The way I see it, it’s a microcosm of the larger Jewish people, who are united in the ultimate goal of living meaningful Jewish lives, although it takes many forms. 

If we incorporate the role of a rabbi into our understanding of our relationship with the Divine, we can develop a more dynamic relationship to God, and our communities. I believe that all these archetypes of relationship- family, community and peoplehood, combine to form an ideal form of Jewish living. As the High Holidays approach and we think about our relationships to each other and the One above, let us try to incorporate the various models to live a Jewish life that is meaningful, vibrant, and fulfilling. 

This is Maya’s perspective and hers alone. She does not represent any Jewish denomination. Affiliation and connection with official movements are subject to change as individuals grow and experience different ways of doing and being Jewish. This reflection represents one individual perspective within the diversity and plurality of Jewish expression and should not be understood as representative of any particular movement.

Maya Ungar lives in Jerusalem, where she is a fellow at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies. When she’s not in the Beit Midrash, she enjoys exploring the different cafes in Jerusalem, reading novels, or whipping up baked goods for a Shabbat meal. Maya is a 2025 graduate of Brandeis University, where she majored in Education and American Studies, and before then, SAR High School and the Solomon Schechter Day School (gotta give credit where credit is due!), all of which contributed to her dynamic Jewish identity and love of learning.