Posts Tagged ‘Rosh Hashanah’
Unity and Disunity: my New Year Resolution
1: So I come home from synagogue after an intense three days of Rosh Hashanah plus Shabbos, with the New Year liturgy endlessly reverberating around my head, sharply focused on humanity and universalism, on examining the human condition and human potential, and on yearning for a world in which every human being comes together in recognition of a universal siblinghood under the reign of a single God whose core values are compassion, understanding and mercy.
2: And I reopen my computer and look at the news and my social media feeds: and everything is about taking sides – and I’m not on your side unless I hate everyone else as much as you do. I cannot see your right unless I see everybody’s else’s wrong: any attempt at shade, nuance or balance is seen as disloyalty to your fundamentalism.
3: And an enormous amount of this hatred and division is in the name of unity: show your solidarity with this group by condemning that group; stand with this group by condemning that group; take up this cause by denouncing that cause. Everywhere I look I see experts (most of them self-appointed) in politics, military strategy, international history, statecraft, diplomacy and every other area of expertise imaginable – and in each case their knowledge or lack of knowledge points inexorably in one direction: sectarian hatred and intolerance of one kind or another.
4: So I close my eyes and try to recapture the message of the last three days in synagogue. Abraham brought two things to the world: belief in a single God, and kindness (chessed). And the connection is obvious: if there are lots of Gods, I want to know whose is most powerful and can “beat” the others: if there is one God who created us all, we are all siblings, and we have the most powerful possible reason to show care and compassion for all humanity.
5: The sound of the shofar is the purest form of prayer possible: the unrefined cry of a lost and bewildered child. And the enduring images of the Rosh Hashanah liturgy are of Yishmael crying out and being heard by God simply because he is a child in distress; of Hannah being listened to by God and having her prayers answered simply because she is a person in distress; of Noah’s ultimate moral failure because of choosing self-righteous certainty over compassion for the weak who lack in moral direction; and on and on and on until the Messianic promise of peace on earth and a Third Temple which is “My house which shall be known as a house of prayer for all peoples”.
6: And so I come to my New Year’s resolution. This year I will try to show unity (achdus) with every group that needs my support: but I will not show you support if it requires me to hate others, or even if it requires me to exclude others.
7: No orphan’s cry pierces the Heavens less powerfully than any other’s. No widow’s or widower’s tears arouse more compassion in the Heavens than any others’. No captive dragged from their home and family, not because of what they have done in the eyes of the law but because of who they are in the eyes of those who hate, deserves more pity than any other.
8: So I will rally to any banner that shows humanity and pity, if it does not lead to hate: but if you want me to hate in the cause of unity, whoever you are, you are the problem and not the solution.
9: My solution this year will be to try to focus on others’ loss, pain and suffering as widely and as universally as possible: to ask myself each time I listen to one person’s cry: “Who else is experiencing the same or similar suffering?” I will try to balance my concern and compassion so that I am seeing the widest possible picture: not strengthening sectarian walls between groups however defined or classified, but simply building bridges between human beings.
Cutting pieces from the Machzor
- As shuls all over the world prepare for the Yomim Noro’im, the perennial question is raised at board meetings and between honorary officers: should we shorten the services by leaving out parts of the machzor that nobody finds important or inspiring?
- Particular targets for omission are the piyutim – liturgical poems interpolated for yomim tovim between parts of the regular daily prayers – which are generally replete with obscure Biblical or midrashic allusions and written in poetic language which is hard for all but expert scholars to understand and appreciate.
- Whether it was permitted to interpolate these poems was originally a halachic debate. See, in particular, Shulchan Oruch Orach Chayim Chapter 68 and compare the attitude of Rabbi Yosef Caro, who is inclined to discourage these additions, with that of Rav Moshe Isserles who notes that for the Ashkenazim at least they have become traditional.
- The Chofetz Chayim discusses these different attitudes to the piyutim (Mishneh Brurah note 4) and concludes that the most important principle is not to depart from the established traditions of each shul. In the biography of the Chofetz Chayim by his son, however, we learn that the Chofetz Chayim himself did not try to say all the piyutim prescribed by the traditions of the shul in which he was praying, but would focus intently on the meaning of a smaller number.
- There is no contradiction between what the Chofetz Chayim writes and what he practised. The former is the correct rule for the shaliach tzibbur or chazan and for the formal order of service in each shul: not to depart from the established local traditions. For each individual, however, it is impossible to concentrate intently upon every single prayer of the yomim noro’im, and what is important is to pray at a rate, and with a liturgical rhythm, adapted to each person’s linguistic capabilities, spiritual needs and personal circumstances.
- For a shul formally to omit a passage from the service is to assume a frightening responsibility of deciding what is important and inspiring for all congregants. But what inspires one person may leave his or her neighbour cold. And what inspires me today may not do so tomorrow.
- Those who attend orthodox services do so because they wish to be part of a chain of liturgical history. A man or woman may attend shul only once or twice a year: but it would be an error to assume that he or she must therefore wish the service to be as short as possible, or “modernised” by the removal of obscure passages. It may be that what moves the occasional attender most about the shul experience is the feeling of timelessness, and the knowledge of participating in the same service as that enjoyed by his or her parents and grandparents. Who knows what parts of the liturgy will be most reminiscent for that person of his or her childhood visits to shul, and how can I take the responsibility of “removing” from the service an obscure passage that may catch the imagination and open the heart of someone who has never prayed properly before in his or her life?
- For Ashkenazim, our yomim noro’im prayers will start properly next weekend with the first slichos service. Between then and the final strains of tefilas geshem on shemini atzeres, the machzorim will place in front of each of us the annual range of ideas and emotions, hopes and fears, lessons and aspirations. May we each find the right selection and balance among the available prayers to fashion into the most appropriate dialogue with God to build a good foundation for the coming year.
The Sceptic Blog 