For more discussion about selling synagogue honors see this post at On the Main Line about 18th century London, and this post at Failed Messiah about more recent practices in the Hasidic world.

Paying for religious services was a part of traditional Jewish life. The following is from the Yivo Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe.

In addition to the above, and to the ordinary round of domestic expenditures, families also had to find money for notable life-cycle activities involving schooling, marriage, and death, each of which required its own set of expenses, marked by particular money traditions. Funeral and mourning customs might require, for example, the “renting” of a quorum during the week of mourning, or the hiring of a kadish-zoger—someone to recite the memorial prayer (Kaddish) on one’s behalf. But it was the burial costs themselves, or kvure-gelt, which were notorious as an object of resentment, with the burial society frequently accused of “fleecing the dead and the living” (raysn fun toyte un fun lebedike). And in spite of centuries-long efforts to regulate fees, people often endured inflated and indiscriminate charges. Hence the proverb, “Owning a home brings with it two worries—paying for it, so that you have a place to live, and paying for your burial plot, so that you have a place to die.” School tuition or kheyder-gelt was an essential part of the family budget. “There are two requirements in life: to eat and pay tuition,” says the reigning folk wisdom.

Selling honors in Ashkenaz was common in the Middle Ages. See the following comments by this article by Simcha Assaf.

One of the honors that was sold was to sweep the synagogue. This is probably any synagogue executive-director’s dream, to have people pay to help clean up. See Assaf’s article for more discussion of the history of these practices.

The bottom line is that the synagogues must be paid for, and each community has to figure out its own way to balance between the financial and spiritual realities. The Knesset doesn’t seem like the place to find that balance.

In the always helpful Keter Shem Tov I found the following: (6:272)

Herbert C. Dobrinsky in his book, A Treasury of Sephardic Laws and Customs wrote the following in the section on Syrian Jewish customs for Yom Kippur: (p. 333)

Minḥa is prayed on Ereb Yom Kippur early in the afternoon between one and four o’clock. All the men put on tallit and tefillin (with berakha) to demonstrate to the Almighty that, should they have been neglectful in the performance of this mizvah during the course of the year, this extra effor to put on tefillin on this day is to prove their sincerity in desiring to do teshubah.

This custom is also mentioned here.

Cohen wrote at length about two articles that appeared in this issue. The first is by Mordechai Akiva Friedman and is about the possibility that other shofar blowings for Rosh ha-Shannah existed in the Rabbinic Period, and these eventually ceased to be observed. The second is by Robert Brody and relates to the dating of the Stammaitic (anonymous) strata of Talmudic literature.

Yondov Kaplon has recently published Meimcha Eilecha: Sefer ha-Shabbat. (hat tip) The book is based upon the traditional liturgy for Shabbat, and it includes commentaries, both ancient and modern, stories, poetry, etc. This is similar to the popular mahazor that Kaplon edited for the Yamim Noraim.

Furthermore did they ask [R. Eleazar]: How about going forth [on the Day of Atonement] in sandals of bamboo? — Thereupon R. Isaac b. Nahmani stood up and said: I saw myself R. Joshua b. Levi going forth in sandals of bamboo on the Day of Atonement. I asked him: How about [on public rain] fast? He answered: There is no difference. Rabbah b. Bar Hanah said: I saw R. Eleazar of Niniveh who was going forth in sandals of bamboo on a public [rain] fast, and I asked him: How about the Day of Atonement? He answered: There is no difference. Rab Judah went forth in [sandals made of] reeds; Abaye in [such made] of palm-branches; Raba in [such made of] twisted reeds; Rabbah b. Bar Rav Hunah tied a piece of cloth around his legs and went thus forth.

What was it about all of these types of Jews that these sages wore? While they weren’t made of leather, they do seem to offer in the very least protection, if not some level of comfort. According to the Rambam (Hilchot Shevitat Asur 3:1), whose opinion is not accepted by most authorities, one of the requirements of footwear that one is permitted to wear on YK is that the person be able to feel the ground.

Another source which I read in S.Y. Agnon’s Yamim Noraim over the holiday is from the Mordechai on Yoma.

One bring pillows and cushions to the synagogue to stand on them because there are people who have pain in their feet and the cold is difficult for them, since even though one is forbidden to wear [leather] shoes it is said that Rabbah bar Rav Hunah (he then goes on to quote Yoma 78b)

Jeff Woolf discussed the issue at My Obiter Dicta and one of the things which bothered him was the subjectivity of the decision. Just because Rav Elyashiv thinks that Crocs are comfortable, does not mean that everybody thinks so. One person’s shoe of comfort is another person’s shoe of discomfort. Subjectivity is not foreign to questions of Jewish law. One example which may be relevant for some of us in the next few days is whether one is מצטער, uncomfortable, when sitting in the Sukkah. Someone who is uncomfortable is exempt from sitting and eating in the Sukkah, but there is no one-size-fits all definition of what qualifies as “uncomfortable.” Subjectivity, when not arbitrarily used and forced upon others, should not necessarily be seen as a weakness and sometimes it shoes the strength of a legal system’s ability to adapt to different circumstances and situations.

The late Yair Rosenblum composed a haunting new melody for the piyyut, combining vocal and instrumental motifs from the Ashkenazi and Eastern cantorial traditions, adding just the right measure of tension, turning it into a lovely and brilliant musical creation that gives rise among its listeners to the sense of trembling, mystery and exaltation of a genuine prayer of the heart. The renewed version of “Unetaneh Tokef” as sung by a member of Kibbutz Beit Hashitah, which lost many of its sons in the Yom Kippur War, raised the piyyut to the level of a truly popular prayer, in the true meaning of the term. In recent years, as the holidays of the Hebrew month of Tishrei draw near, Yair Rosenblum’s “Unetaneh Tokef” is played on the radio and now occupies a respectable place among Israel’s unique and select national songs, and has also found its way into the liturgy of traditional synagogues.

Here is Yair Rosenblum’s version of Untaneh Tokef, also see this post at the blog Teruah. May everyone have a meaningful fast.

Update: Maariv has an article on the shofar blowing this past shabbat in Jerusalem.