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Holidays

Yom Kippur sermonette Embracing Earth – by Miriam Belov

October 5, 2017 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

In the 1st paragraph  of Unetanneh Tokef it is stated

“”Let us now relate the power of this day’s holiness, for it is awesome and frightening. On it Your Kingship will be exalted; Your throne will be firmed with kindness and You will sit upon it in truth. It is true that You alone are the One Who judges, proves, knows, and bears witness; Who writes and seals, Who counts and Who calculates. You will remember all that was forgotten…

…And the great shofar will be sounded and a still, thin voice will be heard. Angels will be frenzied, a trembling and terror will seize them — and they will say, ‘Behold, it is the Day of Judgment, to muster the heavenly host for judgment!’ — for even they are not guiltless in Your eyes in judgment.”

 

In 2014 Rabbi Lord Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the U.K. said about  “A great shofar sounds, and a still small voice is heard.’, here is God Himself, blowing the shofar. He doesn’t scream in your ears; it’s a still small voice. And then it says, ‘The angels tremble.’ That still small voice is what terrifies the angels. Not the big noise. But if God whispers in your ear and tells you you’re an angel, that’s terrifying. You think to yourself, ‘Wow, I could be that big and look how small I am.’” [23]

 

At the end of the 2nd paragraph we read that: But Repentance, Prayer, and Charity annul the severe Decree.”

 

Rosh Hashanah was the birthday of the world, the day that Adam was created.  We now are the stewards of this creation, of our fragile planet.  Sadly, the accelerated effect of various components, especially by our own species, has created unprecedented events.  We can easily see these in the brutal hurricanes Harvey, Irma, Jose and Maria during the hurricane season of 2017. Also during this summer, there was record breaking heat in western Europe and the northwest of America. The global experiences of fracking-induced earthquakes in the US midwest plus the melting of the ice sheet of Greenland as well as the tsunamis of southeast Asia all add up to the results that we are now living: radical shifts in nature.

 

In the NYTimes on September 12, 2017, David Brooks quoted Rabbi Lord Sacks who said that there is no Hebrew word for “obey”.  Instead the verb the Torah uses is shema/lishmoa, “to listen, hear, attend, understand, internalize, respond.”

 

Please allow me to share with you a prayer I recently composed that concerns this Divine physical creation, our world.  It is called “Embracing Earth”and is in memory of The Holocaust and my parents, Kate and Mathew Klein.  As many of you know, my father was a pioneering environmentalist here in NJ.  “Embracing Earth” is in the form of a meditation.  I do hope you will listen to and internalize it.  Below are a few quotes from it – and Anne Frank and Albert Einstein relating to nature.  Perhaps you shall even hear your own small voice while you are being still this Yom Kippur.  Then perhaps our repentance, prayer and charity – and good deeds of environmental sustainability – can annul the severe decree.

 

For it is written in Genesis ix:12, “I have set my rainbow in the cloud.  It shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth.”

Anne Frank wrote: The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be. 

The very centre of each and every cell in your body vibrates with peace, love and health. You are peace.  Your cellular consciousness is released: illuminating your soul, filling your whole being here and now.  It surrounds you in a glow of green light. You are in your circle of power: you emanate loving rejuvenation – for yourself and for the earth..

As your breath helps to relax your body, now it will help you to focus your mind.  Please see the planet earth in your mind’s eye.  Allow your mental distractions to easily float by as gentle clouds in the sky.  When you inhale, focus on the planet by coloring her with the healing green.  As you begin to encircle the globe with this light, may your meditation ascend in prayer empowered by your sincerity – straight from the heart!

Albert Einstein wrote:  Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

Please see this powerful Light, Force and Consciousness flowing in a clockwise direction, encircling the globe: bathing all sentient beings, all of Nature.  Radiating out to all peoples, birds and the sky, horses running wild, the forests of old growth trees, dolphins swimming in big pods, large cats stalking the savannahs as herds of elephants roam.

Also include the creations of the ancients: the Great Wall of  the undulating dragon, the vortex of golden Jerusalem, Stonehenge, Machu Picchu climbing upward to the heavens.

As we embrace earth, both planetary and in each of our bodies –we pray for Peace and for the Divine compassion to stop the ecocide and revitalize the environment.  

Feel with total certitude and joy this happening now! It is the truth of the moment.

Pure water/clean air, blue sky/green grass, rich soil, vibrant health and strength saturating everyone, every species so precious to the ecological web. See this Golden Consciousness flowing around and through our fragile globe, Mother Earth, and your own being—as Matter and Spirit unite, evolving by the Supramental Light.  Embracing earth: be peace. Amen

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: earth, High Holidays, unetanneh tokef

IS REDEMPTION POSSIBLE? A HASIDIC TALE OF Y.L. PERETZ – Rabbi Len Levin

September 28, 2017 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

IS REDEMPTION POSSIBLE? A HASIDIC TALE OF Y.L. PERETZ

Sermon for Yom Kippur 2017 | Lenny Levin

 

Gemar chatima tova—may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

On Rosh Hashanah I promised you a story on a prayer in the early part of the service. Today I want to make good on that promise. The prayer is on page 444 of the prayer book. If you want to follow it, find page 444 now and put it away until I get to it.

The story is from the Yiddish writer Yehuda Leib Peretz. But first I want to say who Yehuda Leib Peretz was, who we are, and why I think he is an appropriate guide for us.

Who are we? We are all Jews of modernity, confronting the Jewish tradition from an existential place in the modern world. Whether we call ourselves modern Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal, secular, just-Jews, or fellow travelers of the Jewish people, we are children of the modern world. When I say, “may you be inscribed for a good year,” you don’t believe there is an actual book in Heaven in which our fates for the next year are inscribed. It is a symbolic figure of speech. The same applies more or less to the greater part of the religious vocabulary we employ. As moderns, we view religious traditions as symbolic structures that speak in coded language about our hopes and aspirations and the values we live by. We live in the real world. Politics is part of that real world. Our religious values have implications for how we will act in that real world. But the religious framework is meta-political. It is midway between heaven and earth, and as such, one step removed from these messy problems. If we are properly grounded with the right values imbibed from that tradition, we will hopefully go down into the real world and achieve change. But the message from the tradition about how to achieve that is indirect. If you want more direct advice from me, look me up on Facebook.

Yehuda Leib Peretz (1852–1915) belonged to the generation that made the transition from the world of traditional Jewish life to the world of modernity. He grew up in the Polish shtetl of Zamośź in the second half of the 19th century, and he died in 1915. He was a younger member of the first generation of modern Yiddish literary writers, who addressed the east-European Jewish community on how to manage that transition into the modern world. He identified as secular-Jewish. He had three political identifications: (1) As a young man, he campaigned for Poland to regain its independence from Russia (which it did not achieve until after his death, in 1919). (2) As a socialist, he campaigned for the advancement of the working classes and a world in which greater economic justice would prevail. And (3) as a Diaspora Jewish nationalist, he advocated for a European regime where small nations like the Jews would be able to maintain their cultures and national identities based on their own languages and cultural traditions. He paid a price for these causes; he lost his job as a lawyer in Zamośź for political activity and later spent three months in jail for his socialist activity.

As a secularist, Peretz did not believe in the literal reality of heaven and hell, of angels and demons, and of a book in which our deeds are written. But he was steeped in the cultural background of Hasidism, which was based on the living faith in these realities. He believed that to be a modern Jew, one could draw on these traditions as speaking symbolically about living a life committed to moral values and the redemption of society in the real world.

As a writer, Peretz used the resources of the modern literary craft to rework the personalities, themes and motifs culled from the Jewish tradition into parables that spoke simply and elegantly to the timeless issues of good and evil, alienation and redemption, for the benefit of an audience with roots in the Jewish people but living in the modern world. Maybe you have come across his most famous story, “Bontshe Shveig,” about a poor man, who eked out a meager living as a porter, until he died in the street. He was greeted in Heaven with the highest pomp and circumstance and told he could have whatever he wanted as a reward for his righteous life on earth. But all that he could think to ask for was a hot roll with butter every morning. I believe that this was Peretz’s plaintive protest against a society so rife with injustice and inequality that it crushed the spirit out of people, and once that happened, no remedy could help.  All the more so, then, that we need to correct the injustice here on earth, so the human spirit can be saved.

The story I am about to tell speaks mostly for itself. But there is one detail that can benefit from some explanation. That is the figure of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak was a real personality (1740–1809), a Hasidic rabbi of the second generation of Hasidic leaders, who served as a charismatic leader after the death of the Baal Shem Tov. But he comes across in stories as a unique personality, a trifle bit crazy in a good way, resourceful and inventive of off-the-wall solutions to vexing problems. He is kind of a cross between Elijah the Prophet, Don Quixote, and Chagall’s fiddler on the roof. His hallmarks were compassion, forgiveness, a sense of humor, and chutzpah in dealing with God and human beings alike.

One of my favorite stories about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak tells of when he met a Jew who was smoking on Shabbat on the streets of Berditchev. He said to the Jew, “Reb Yid, perhaps you forgot that it is Shabbos today.”

“No Rebbe, I know that it is Shabbos,” the Jew replied.

“Perhaps you did not realize that you are smoking,” the rebbe asked.

“Rebbe, how could a person not know that he was smoking?”

“Perhaps you forgot, or perhaps you never learned, that it is forbidden to smoke on Shabbos.”

“Of course I know that it is forbidden to smoke on Shabbos,” the Jew said, cutting off the last possible defense.

At that point, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev turned his gaze upwards and called out, “Ribbono shel Olam, who is like Your people Israel? Even when I gave this Jew every opportunity to lie and mitigate his offense, he refused to do so. Where is such scrupulous honesty to be found? Such a level of honesty is not for this world; it belongs in the World of Truth.”

So now that you have been introduced to Peretz and to Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, let me proceed to the main story. It may not provide us with an operative solution to our present problems, but I believe that it offers hope on a deep level. (Story is adapted from Maurice Samuel, Prince of the Ghetto, JPS, 1948, pp. 181–88.)

* * * * * *

It was Rosh Hashana, and the rebbe was leading the congregation in prayer. All day long his voice poured out supplication and praise. As he stood there, serving as messenger between the Jewish people and God’s throne, his voice was like a pathway from earth to heaven.

And then, suddenly, a dreadful pause, a break. He had reached the prayer on page 444, L’eil orekh din — to God who sits in judgment. The words rang out clearly. But those that followed —  He probes all hearts on the day of judgment; he reveals the concealed in judgment — he uttered with hesitancy. And when he came to the verses toward the end — He is aware of all mysteries on the day of judgment, and l’koneh avadav badin (whatever that means) — his voice broke completely, and a frightful silence followed.

Parenthetically, you will see that the translator of this Machzor evades the issue on that last key phrase. “He accepts those who serve Him, in judgment” is a halfhearted translation. L’koneh avadav badin means literally, “To him who buys his slaves in judgment.” God buying slaves! That is what had the rabbi so mystified. What could that possibly mean?

One second, two seconds, three — and every second an eternity. Terror spreads through the congregation; people faint from shock.

And then the Rabbi wakes up. He comes to. A shudder passes through his body, and he resumes joyously, He has mercy for His people on the day of judgment. And he concludes the Shaharit service, up through the Torah reading, with renewed strength.

After the Torah service, before Musaf, during the break, he explained what had happened.

When he got to the words, l’koneh avadav badin, it occurred to him that the words made no sense. “To him who buys his slaves in judgment?” What could it possibly mean? And so he stopped his prayer until he could figure it out.

As you may well imagine, the rabbi’s sudden silence was noted at once up in heaven. Our rabbi’s prayer suspended! Couldn’t happen. Immediately, they decided to reveal to him, in a vision, the meaning of his words, so that he could continue.

And so the rabbi went into a trance, while the heavens opened up. And this is what he saw:

The heavenly courtroom. It is still empty. The prosecutor, the defense attorney, and the judges have not yet arrived. There are five doors: On the extreme right, one with the sign, “Counsel for the Defense”; on the extreme left, “Prosecuting Attorney”; three doors along the back wall; and in front of them, a table with a huge brass scale.

The closed middle door in back bears a plaque, which reads: “The Heavenly Hosts.” The other two back doors are open. Through the right-of-center doorway the rabbi sees paradise. The righteous sit at long tables, their faces radiant, studying Torah. No judgment day for them. Through the left-of-center doorway, the rabbi sees the fires of hell burning, but the souls of the damned have a day off from punishment. The demons, who usually torture them, have a special assignment for the day.

Now the extreme rightmost door opens, and the counsel for the defense enters, carrying under his arm the records of the good deeds of mankind for the past year. Alas, a very small sheaf. It has been a terrible year.

The extreme leftmost door is still closed. An ominous sign. It is taking them too long to collect their records. The harvest of mankind’s misdeeds fills the granaries of hell. The counsel for the defense drops into a seat and closes his eyes sadly.

Finally the extreme leftmost door opens, and two demons enter, staggering under the load of their first bundle. They throw it on the left balance of the scale and one of them says, “That isn’t even a tenth of the harvest. Wait for the rest!”

The defense counsel groans. He feels all alone, forsaken.  Nobody hears his plight — or so it seems. But he is mistaken. One person cares — Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. He hears the groan of anguish from the defense counsel’s lips. He leaves his cozy seat in paradise to join in the action. He has not forgotten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; he remembers that for them, on earth below, there is still a judgment day, and so much is at stake.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak creeps into the courtroom and sizes up the situation. On the right, such a slender sheaf; on the left, heaps upon heaps. It takes him just an instant to decide. He bends down and, straining himself to the utmost, he picks up the bundle of accusing records and flings it through the left-of-center doorway, down into the flames of hell.

Again, two demons enter, bent double under a load of records for the prosecution. The moment they leave, Reb Levi Yitzchak deals with this bundle as he dealt with the first, And so with the third, and the fourth, and all the others.

Finally, it is the Devil himself who enters, a broad grin on his face. What is this? Help! The records! Not a sign of them. He looks around, and sees the last bundle burning in hell. He looks around again, and sees Rabbi Levi Yitzchak sneaking back toward paradise. He runs over, grabs him by the arm, and yells:

“Stop, thief!”

The cry resounds through all the seven heavens. Patriarchs and saints interrupt their studies and rush into the courtroom. The center door at the back opens and the members of the court file in. Counsel for the defense stands up. Pandemonium reigns.

The chief justice calls for order. Suddenly, all is silent.

“Will you please tell us what has happened?”

The Devil declares how he has caught Reb Levi Yitzchak red-handed. He points to the fires of hell where the last bundle is still smoldering.

Truth is truth! Rabbi Levi Yitzchak confesses.

Justice is justice! The Devil is asked what he demands. He quotes Scripture (he would!) “The thief shall be sold for his theft.” Let Reb Levi Yitzchak be sold as a slave, in public auction, to the highest bidder! The Devil will of course join in the bidding. It will be worth his while, no matter how much it costs, to own Rabbi Levi Yitzchak as a slave!

Father Abraham makes his offer, with his merit for brit milah, the covenant of circumcision, and hospitality for wayfarers. Isaac offers his pain and suffering for nearly being sacrificed on the altar.  Jacob weighs in with the long years of labor he endured. The matriarchs register their tza’ar giddul banim, the fortitude and patience they exhibited while raising the whole household of Israel, without which none of us would be here. Row upon row, the merits of the saints pile up on the right side of the huge scale.

But they are bidding against the Devil, and he has treasures beyond measure. He ransacks porcelain vases from China, and gold, silver, and diamonds from the deepest mines, not to mention oil rigs and tanks from the ends of the earth. The left side of the scale sinks lower and lower. Finally, he throws his crown on the bundle to top it off. The scale hits bottom.

A crooked and vindictive grin spreads over Satan’s lips. Oh, what a catch! Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, to be a captive in hell! As the left side of the scale touches the ground, the Devil puts his hand on Reb Levi Yitzchak’s shoulder, points to the left doorway, and says: “This way, please.”

A gasp of horror runs through the ranks of the blessed. What! Reb Levi Yitzchak damned for eternity? It cannot be! But what is to be done?

Finally, a voice thunders from God’s Throne of Glory:

“I buy him. For Mine is the earth and all its fullness, and I give the whole world for Reb Levi Yitzchak.”

The Devil’s face blazes fiery red, and he turns away, defeated.

Gleefully, the Hasid finished the story:

“That’s what the Rabbi told us in the pause between the Torah reading and Musaf. Do you non-Hasidim understand what a tremendous joy that was for us? First, there was the destruction of all our sins, burned to ashes. That’s a good-as-gold guarantee of a happy and prosperous New Year, like money in the bank. Second, Reb Levi Yitzchak saved from the schemes of the Devil. And third, best of all, we all learned the meaning of that baffling text, ‘To Him who buys His slaves on the day of judgment!’ ”

Who could ask for more?

Gemar chatima tova.

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: heaven, High Holidays, yom kippur

Strive to Be Upright (Pilates) — On the Yom Kippur Confessional: by Treasure Cohen

September 17, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

Yom Kippur Divrei Torah– 5774/ 2013    Introduction to the Confessional-revised

by Treasure Cohen: treasurehope65@gmail.com

Once a year–on Yom Kippur– we get an opportunity to look into a virtual mirror and examine our imperfections (and if we need help identifying them, the Vidui or confessional gives us both a short and long list of suggestions.)  We confess our sins, ask God for forgiveness,  and resolve to change.

Divrei Tora-KOL RINAThis year I got a head start.  This summer, with a gift certificate provided by our children to the local Pilates exercise studio, I went for a full body assessment.  I had to look in the mirror, and was then given an analysis of my imperfections–many of which I was not even aware of:  I do not stand up straight, my spine is crooked, and I have weak core muscles–and that just for starters.  I was told that if I didn’t make changes,  things would only get worse– but if I did, I could start to turn things around–or in the words of our tradition–do teshuva/ return.

Indeed, I resolved that I did not want to be a  bent-over old lady, but hard as I tried, I could not seem to  overcome what years of gravity and bad habits had wrought– the perpetual slouch.  Every week I would go to the trainer and with more excuses than resolve, I would complain how hard it was, and she would assure me that change is gradual so I shouldn’t give up.  It took several weeks before I actually had an understanding of what it even felt like to stand up straight.  And only with that awareness could I begin to move forward.

Now,  I know that on Yom Kippur we are not talking about posture or imperfections of body, but rather imperfections of behavior–yet I discovered that they  employ the same vocabulary.  Our tradition describes an exemplary person as “Yashar” or upright.  The word for sin  avone— literally means “bent or crooked.”  And we refer to people who have stumbled or fallen–ethically as well as physically– as noflim.   And to those of us in the middle– neither the yesharim nor the noflim, we are the k’foofim—  the bent over, the slouchers– those who tend to resist change.

But this is a holiday about change.  So for the past few months I have been looking for inspiration and motivation to help me make changes, both physical and spiritual, in my life.  One came from a friend at a women’s study group.  Every session started with an ice-breaker and this one was “advice from your mother;”  Finish the sentence:  “My mother always said . . .”:  As we went around the circle,  women responded:  “Study hard,” “Be respectful,” “Mind your manners,”   (“Wear clean underwear”) and  when we got to Ellen, she said, “My mother always said stand up straight”  and we laughed!  But it wasn’t until now that I understand that her advice had a double meaning.  Standing up straight is not only about good posture, good health, facing the world  with confidence,  it is also about aiming to be upright– yashar–adhering to strong moral principles, being righteous.

We try to aim high, but inevitably, at least sometime during the year, we will deviate from the straight and upright, to the bent and crooked, the avone–making mistakes– the theme of this confessional.    Sometimes we are noflim–we fall, but–this I learned from hearing a dancer interviewed on NPR– what makes for success in dance,  and in life, is the ability to fall and get up again.  From experience, we know that stumbling often provides the most long-lasting lessons.  And therefore our mistakes can be our best teachers, helping us to change and grow.  And as our tradition says, God is there to help us:  Every day we say in our prayers, God supports the fallen (somafe noflim) and raises up the bowed down, the slouchers (zokafe k’foofim).

But how do we bring about more long-lasting change?  This is what I learned from my Pilates classes :  You need to strengthen your core.  In Pilates language, that means doing all sorts of exercises–pulls and stretches–to strengthen the muscles that help us to stand up straight.  But in the language of Jewish tradition, it means improving our inner core–our hearts, souls, and minds– by adopting new behaviors and mitzvot that stretch us, strengthen us, and inform our actions.  And every year on the High Holidays, we are given a prescription for enduring change:  Teshuvah— return, Tefilah— prayer, and Tzedakah— deeds of lovingkindness and righteousness.

Paradoxically, I just learned that my Pilates Studio is closing its doors today–Yom Kippur, so I cannot be sure how well I will improve my posture this year.  But I do know that my experience trying to improve myself over the past few months has given me insight into the process of teshuva/return, which I share with you today:

Strive to be upright, and try not to slouch;
Pick yourself up when you fall;
Learn from your stumbles;
and most important,  Strengthen your core. 

 May we all be sealed for a good year– G’mar hatimah tovah, Shana Tova, and Shabbat Shalom!

 

 

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: Jewish, yom kippur

Introduction to the Haftarah, Day 1: By Treasure Cohen (Rosh Hashanah 2013)

September 10, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

Introduction to the Haftarah—Rosh Hashanna

Treasure Cohen—Sept. 5, 2013/ 5774

Shana Tova!  Today is a powerful  day in our Jewish holiday cycle– the birth of a new year for our people and an opportunity for re-birth  in our personal lives.  So it is not surprising that both the Torah and the Haftarah tell stories about birth– The birth of Isaac, Abraham and Sarah’s son in the Torah reading, and the birth of the prophet Samuel in the Haftarah.   And we are reminded that neither birth comes easy:  both stories contain elements of pain and longing, loss and sacrifice, and yet open up new beginnings in the life of our people.

Divrei Tora-KOL RINALike the Torah reading, our  haftarah–which takes place almost 600 years later– begins with a family story:  This  man  Elkanah  has  two wives, Peninah who has many children, and Hannah–his favorite– who is childless. Hannah is deeply despondent.    Her sister-wife taunts her that God has closed up her womb, and her husband cannot comprehend her pain:  “Why are you so sad?  Am I not more devoted to you then ten sons?”

When the family makes their yearly sacrificial pilgrimage to Shiloh, a depressed and distraught Hannah visits the Temple alone and  unburdens herself to God, weeping as she prays– ” Adonai Tzevaot, if You will look upon the suffering of your maidservant and remember me, and if you grant your maidservant a male child, I will dedicate him To Adonai all of the days of his life . . .”

The priest Eli watches her but cannot understand why her lips are moving and no sound is coming out of her mouth.  He assumes she is a drunk, and reprimands her.  Her response:  “On no, my lord.  I am a very unhappy woman.  I have drunk no wine but I have been pouring out my heart to Adonai. Do not take me for a worthless woman; I have only been speaking all this time out of my great anguish and distress.”  Eli recognizes her sincere devotion, blesses her, and she leaves–now able to eat, no longer depressed, and within the year, her prayers are answered and she gives birth to a son Samuel, meaning, “I asked Adonai for him.”

And based on this poignant scene, the Rabbis have credited Hannah with introducing a model of personal or private prayer.

As you are well familiar-as you balance this heavy High Holiday prayer book in your hands, we have inherited a substantial legacy of prayers that resonate through their beautiful melodies and powerful poetry.  Sometimes these words touch our hearts deeply and enable us to pray with a single-minded devotion. And when we join our voices with others, we gain strength from the power of praying with our community.

But sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes the prescribed liturgy even creates barriers to prayer–if we cannot understand the language or are unable to find a personal connection to the words.  And sometimes we are so overwrought with our own feelings and cares, that we have a compelling need to share with God the raw emotions and passionate voices that cry out from within us—like Hannah.

Our Jewish tradition embraces both public and private prayer.  We pray together and we pray alone.  We are guided by the set words in our prayer books, and we compose our own spontaneous prayers that can change for every occasion, mood, and need.  Even this Haftarah contains examples of both:  Hannah’ s powerful but silent outpouring to God at the beginning, and the ten formulaic verses of praise and thanks to God at the end, prefaced by the words, “And Hannah prayed.”

We will be spending a lot of time praying during this High Holiday season. We will have many opportunities to turn the pages of this book and say the words that have echoed throughout the generations as together we inaugurate the Jewish new year.  But this is also a time of intense soul-searching in which each of us strives for internal change with prayers that are private and personal.  Inspired by Hannah, may the power of our prayers, whether the ones in the book or the ones in our heart, draw us closer to God’s holiness and to our own, as we seek change and growth, renewal and rebirth in the coming year.

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: Rosh Hashanah

Introduction to Shofarot in the Musaf: By Jeff Bruckner (Rosh Hashana, 2013)

September 10, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

  • Around 1850, Schopenhauer pronounced noise to be the supreme archenemy of any serious thinker. His argument against noise was simple: A great mind can have great thoughts only if all its powers of concentration are brought to bear on one subject, in the same way that a concave mirror focuses light on one point. Just as a mighty army becomes useless if its soldiers are scattered helter-skelter, a great mind becomes ordinary the moment its energies are dispersed.
  • Even though we may not be a great mind thinking great thoughts like Schopenhauer, we are similarly affected by noise.  He further said that “even people who are not philosophers lose whatever ideas their brains can carry in consequence of brutish jolts of sound”.
  • Another example of the search for silence:  Shimon bar Yochai, the author of the Zohar (the foundational work of Kabbalah), hid in a cave for thirteen years studying the Torah, according to Jewish legend. I think we can safely assume that there were no Shofarot in his cave.
  • Certainly the Shofar is noise –  and I think we can all agree that it  interrupts our thoughts. Following the logic, therefore, the Shofar is the archenemy of thought.  What wisdom within Jewish tradition embraces such a paradox?
  • Doesn’t wisdom require thought?
  • Doesn’t spirituality require thought?
  • During these high holy days, we are encouraged to think about our transgressions in order to prepare for our year to be written into the book of life. Why does the Shofar interrupt our serious work?  Isn’t the thinking of such thoughts, after all, one of the central pillars of the Rosh Hashanah (and Yom Kippur) services?
  • Perhaps we should conclude that the purpose of the Shofar is to keep us from thinking.  Why? Let me offer some possibilities; perhaps you will find one of them useful as you participate in the Shofar Service:
  1. Shofar-Kol Rina - An Independent MinyanThe Shofar is to remind us of a specific thought – the presence of G-d.  The corollary – the thoughts of the Torah are to be preferred over our own.  Think of the Shofar as a guide for our thoughts, not something that prevents or destroys them.
  2. The Shofar is meant to bring us out of the realm of thought and into the realm of community.  In other words, don’t get so caught up in in the Kavanah (intention) that you forget about the Keva (routine).  Or perhaps better said, this is not just a personal journey, but a community affair, and the Shofar is reminding us to look around us and connect with each other.
  3. The Shofar is a call to action. The Shofar connects us to our ancestors though ritual, and rituals contain power.  Simply by doing what has been done for thousands of years give us, the community, power – power than can be used to do something that matters.  What might that be?  As Dave Gray (contemporary thinker and author) has said: “… there are only two conversations that matter. Everything else is just noise [no pun intended]. The first conversation is the one that frames or re-frames people’s view of the world. The second is the one that moves them to action.” What will we decide to do this year?
  4. Finally, perhaps the whole point of the Shofar is not to interrupt us, but to get us to practice returning to where we left off.  In other words, the Shofar is helping us practice remembering. Consider this Hasidic teaching: “Existence will remain meaningless for you if you yourself do not penetrate into it with active love and if you do not in this way discover its meaning for yourself.  Everything is waiting to be hallowed by you; it is waiting to be disclosed and to be realized by you. For the sake of this your beginning, God created the world.” Rather than an attempt to steer us, the Shofar knows that we already know the way. It knows that life is a series of interruptions that distract us from our true purpose, and it is trying to teach us.  The Shofar is saying, “If you can remember who you are after my interruptions in the service, then you can remember who you are after you leave this sanctuary and reenter your life”.

 

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: Rosh Hashanah, Shofar

Remarks Before Shofar Blowing: By Dan Anbar (Rosh Hashana 2013)

September 10, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

Today we are commanded to hear the sound of the shofar.  This commandment first appears in Leviticus 23:24-25.  It says: “In the seventh month, on the first of the month, it shall be a Sabbath for you, a remembrance of the shofar blast; a holy occasion.”  In the next verse the scripture continues: “But on the tenth of this seventh month, it is a day of atonement, it shall be a holy occasion for you; you shall afflict yourselves.”

The immediate proximity of these verses suggests that the two Holy Days, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, are linked through a single idea.  The blow of the shofar, representing this idea, is the thread connecting the beginning and the end of this period and makes it one whole.  This ten-day period starting with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Yom Kippur is referred to as Yamim Nora’im – Days of awe. The period starts with the blow of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah and ends with the blow of the shofar at the end of Ne’eelah as we usher Yom Kippur out.

What is this single idea, and what is the significance of the shofar?

Shofar-Kol Rina - An Independent MinyanThe central theme of Yamim Nora’im is the idea of repentance. We live our lives interacting with people, making choices, saying words and making decisions.  We sometimes make poor choices offending people and God.  Yamim Nora’im is when we take “time out” to reflect on how we conduct our lives and have the opportunity regret, and repent, and correct the wrongs we committed against God and our fellow human beings.  The shofar blast is what our ancestors heard as Moses delivered the commandments at Sinai.  The scripture tells us that the event was accompanied with “a very powerful blast of a shofar” and that “the sound of the shofar grew increasingly stronger.” Moses spoke and God answered him with a voice; a sound, rather, as Rashi interprets the text (“Be’kol” = a sound that has the quality of a voice).  So as Moses was reading the commandments God was confirming them “with a voice” – the sound of the shofar.  The shofar is the most powerful means of communicating with God.  The Leviticus text is using the phrase “a remembrance of the shofar blast.”  The word is “Remembrance” not “Reminding.”  It is not to remind God about God’s revelation to Moses.  Rather, it is for us to remember the defining event in our history and the commitment we made as a nation at that time: “So Moses came and told the people all the words of the Lord and all the ordinances, and all the people answered in unison and said, “All the words that the Lord has spoken we will do.”” (Exodus 25:3)

Our sages added a symbolic meaning to the mitzvah of blowing the shofar.  The shofar is a ram’s horn,   Thus, the shofar blasts remind God of the ram that Abraham sacrificed in Isaac’s stead.  This, we hope, will remind God of Abraham’s faith and his complete obedience as reflected in the Akedah story.  Perhaps this memory will give us credit in God’s eyes that we as Abraham’s descendents too are capable for complete and full repentance.  Perhaps it will remind God of His own regrets of even having the idea of asking for sacrifice of Isaac?

It is the tradition in some synagogues to blow the shofar every morning during the month of Elul up until the day before Rosh Hashanah. This is intended to remind the congregation of the coming of the Day of Judgment and urge them to prepare themselves.  The Hassidim have an additional explanation for this custom: It is to confuse Satan who comes before God during the “Ten days of Awe” to play the Accuser’s role.  Blowing the shofar during the month of Elul will, they hope, confuse Satan and he would lose track of the counting of the days. Stopping the blowing the day before Rosh Hashanah will make him to think that Yamim Nora’im are over and so we will have God’s full attention on Yom Kippur without Satan’s interference.

Today and tomorrow we will hear 100 blasts of the shofar.  It is a mitzvah to hear at least 30 of these blasts.  So if you miss hearing some of them today you have another chance tomorrow to fulfill the mitzvah.

Ketivah veHatima Tova!

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: Jewish, Rosh Hashanah, Shofar

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