Rosh Hashanna 5773 - Shofar and God's Love of Israel

On the one hand, the cycle of the Jewish year is predictable and familiar: The solemnity of Yom Kippur, the smells and feel of the Sukka and the 4 species, the warmth and intimacy of Hannnuka, Purim's raucous frivolity, the tunes and tastes of Seder night, the lilt of Eikha on the 9th of Av, and so forth. We know what to anticipate, and we look forward to the special atmosphere that each holiday brings.

And yet, each year is unique. Something is happening in my life this year that is different from last year. As individuals, we face new concerns and challenges; our health, our finances, our family undergo change and development. Our insights expand us, new experiences unlock fresh emotions and understanding. Nationally, the challenges of Israel and the Jewish people shift and fluctuate with time. And so, in some way, each year is experienced anew.

And so, looking towards Rosh Hashanna, I found myself seeking an insight that will generate new kavanna, a fresh perspective to inspire the powerful davening experience of the day. I would like to share the following idea which has excited me this year. I hope it will affect you as well.

Parashat Balak records the famous blessings (that might have been curses) uttered by Bilaam. In those blessings Bilaam praises the unique relationship between God and Israel: 

לֹא הִבִּיט אָוֶן בְּיַעֲקֹב וְלֹא רָאָה עָמָל בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהָיו עִמּוֹ וּתְרוּעַת מֶלֶךְ בּוֹ.

"He has not beheld iniquity in Jacob, Neither has he seen perverseness in Israel; The Lord his God is with him, And the shout of a king is among them." (Bamidbar 23:21)

This passuk is particularly applicable to Rosh Hashanna as it features in the series of ten pesukim recited in the malkhuyot section of Musaf. On first reading it seems pretty straightforward in expressing God's love of Israel in that He overlooks our sins and faults. The verse's four clauses tell us that 1.) God ignores our sins, 2.) He is oblivious to our flaws, moreover 3.) "The Lord God is with him" i.e. with Israel, in other words He actively associates His identity with the Jewish people. But then we have the concluding phrase – "Teruat Melekh" - "and the shout (Terua) of a king is among them" - and this is difficult to understand. What is this "shout" or "fanfare" of the king? And how does it feature in connection with Israel?

Ibn Ezra writes: ותרועת מלך בו: במחנה ישראל וזה ותקעתם תרועה – "The Terua of the king is within him: In the camp of Israel, and this is what is indicated by   'And they shall sound the Terua.'(Bamidbar 10,5)."

Ibn Ezra is quoting a passuk that describes how trumpets were sounded when the Israelites journeyed in the wilderness. But how is this shofar blast demonstrative of God? In fact, when we read the context in Bamidbar, it seems like a signal, indicating to the throngs of Israel announcing that they would be breaking camp. Why is the pre-travel alarm signal defined as "the Terua of the King?"

Sephorno's reading offers one line of interpretation:

הם תוקעים תרועה בנסוע המשכן לשמחה שיגילו במלכם –
"They sounded a [trumpet] blast when the Mishkan traveled to express joy, delighting in their King [God]." In other words, this was a "blast of the king" because the Terua sound heralded the movement of the Mishkan, not the nation. This fanfare underscored God's presence amidst them. Israel's honor was the fact that God established His earthly residence amongst them, so that even when they journeyed, God's presence traveled with them.

These commentaries share the interpretation that the verse refers to an actual trumpet blast blown in the camp of Israel. However, this reading creates an imbalance in the passuk as the first 3 clauses refer to God's action, whereas the 4th clause depicts Israel's act (of sounding the trumpets.)

The Ramban however reads this phrase as God's action rather than Israel's: "ותרועת מלך גבור בו שלא ינוצח לעולם" – "The mighty King's war-shout (Terua) is amongst them, that they will never be defeated." In other words, the "Terua" is not a trumpet blast at all, but it refers to the sounds of war. This phrase states that God will ensure Israel's victory on the battlefield.

But Rashi contributes the most creative and surprising reading:

"ותרועת מלך בו: לשון חבה ורעות כמו רעה דוד אוהב דוד ויתנה למרעהו וכן תרגם אונקלוס ושכינת מלכהון ביניהון" – "A Language of love and friendship, as in 'The friend of David' (II Sam 15:37), [and see Judges 15:6]…"

For Rashi, the "Terua" is not a blast of the horn at all, not for travel or in the battlefield. It is a derivative of the word רעות meaning friendship, affection, fondness for a beloved.

For Rashi, the verse as a whole expresses the love between God and Israel whereby, as in a human love-relationship, objectivity is swept aside, flaws are ignored, and closeness and companionship is sought. Rashi's reading is highly attractive as it remains true to theme:

"He [God] is oblivious to Jacob's sin, and fails to notice Israel's errors, The Lord his God is with him, And the love of the king is extended to him [Israel]."

Here the word "Terua" is transformed from a horn blast to a deep emotion of love. If we can apply this to our Rosh Hashanna – the "Yom Terua;" God commands us to sound the Shofar, but that very word, and hence that gesture is symbolic and expressive of God's friendship and love towards Israel. Traditionally, the Terua instills a sense of dread, a feeling of fear. At Mt. Sinai, the people heard the shofar and trembled. And yet we are proposing a model which is the polar opposite. We sound a fanfare to God, but in truth God is giving us the Terua - a gift of love - which is a divine opportunity to celebrate the special relationship, the eternal love of God for His nation. And as we blow the Shofar of God's devotion and affection, we hope that God, in his love, will overlook the sins of Israel.

Old and Young. Does it make a Difference?

We live in a world that worships youth. Whether in TV or on the catwalk, youthfulness is cool, daring, and attractive. Older people are at times, too old for a particular job, are made to look out of touch in movies, and (some) feel a need to inject themselves with Botox to somehow fend off the years!

In Judaism, we have a sense that age is realted to differently. It is addressed with veneration; it is something that we prize. Sefer Vayikra tells us:

"מִפְּנֵי שֵׂיבָה תָּקוּם וְהָדַרְתָּ פְּנֵי זָקֵן"
"'Rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly" (19:32)

In Judaism we recognize age - זקנה - as related to sagacity and wisdom (age-sage… is there an English connection too?) and we encourage the young to revere and cherish the older generation as an invaluable resource.

זְכֹר יְמוֹת עוֹלָם בִּינוּ שְׁנוֹת דּוֹר וָדוֹר שְׁאַל אָבִיךָ וְיַגֵּדְךָ זְקֵנֶיךָ וְיֹאמְרוּ לָךְ.
Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you. (Devarim 32)

I mention this topic because I had a couple of new insights to the topic this week. We have a family practice of studying Pirkei Avot every Seuda Shelishit during the summer. This week, we related to the topic of old and young in a series of Mishnayot (that I had never perceived as a series until now!)

4:25 Elisha ben Avuyah used to say: He who learns as a child, what is he like? He is like ink written on new paper. He who learns as an old man, what is he like? He is like ink written on "erased" paper.

4:26. Rabbi Yosi bar Judah of Kefar ha-Bavli said: He who learns from the young, what is he like? He is like one who eats unripe grapes and drinks wine fresh from his wine press. But he who learns from the aged, what is he like? He is like one who eats ripe grapes and drinks old wine.

4: 27. Rabbi Meir used to say: Do not look at the flask but at what is in it; there may be a new flask that is full of old wine and an old flask that does not even have new wine in it.

4:25 talks about the fresh mind of children, or is it youths in general, (…or until what age may a person be termed a ילד?) in which every new piece of data makes an indelible mark, in which a child has a special capacity to absorb new information without any interference. The older person, is like writing on paper from which text has been erased. I think this means that the paper is marked, even if it is erased; one finding it difficult to undo previous misconceptions and misperceptions. New information must be configured into an already organized brain and seeks to find its place amongst the existent data.

(Interestingly the Talmud in Chagiga 14a-b records the way that Elisha Ben Avuya had a fatalist attitude, convincing himself that he was unable to change from his heresy and rejection of a Torah lifestyle. This Mishna too, reflects the feeling of "too little too late," and the inability to engage in a full experience of Torah due to the scars of prior experience.)

4:26 Rabbi Yossi bar Yehuda proposes that the old have an advantage over the young. Their minds are mature like old wine. In contrast, the minds of the young are unripe, sharp in taste, sour. Their knowledge is raw, untried and untested, full of unbridled adolescent passion and idealism. But it is as if the youthful minds lack the ability to truly process the knowledge, to understand its far-reaching implications, to foresee its effects. Time allows one discipline to enhance another. The experience of life is the understanding of ideas that have succeeded and failed, a perspective that discerns between that which is fundamental and that which is peripheral. The older a person, the more his knowledge has developed, deepened, undergone a process of integration and cross-fertilization, of thoughtful reflection, of selection and rejection.

This is reminiscent of the Talmudic saying of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar:

If elders say "destroy" and children say to "build" – destroy and don't build, for the destruction of elders constitutes an act of construction, and the building of youths is, in fact, an act of destruction. The indication of this principle is the story of Rechavam, son of Shlomo. (Megilla 31b)

Is Rav Yossi arguing with Elisha ben Avuya? Or do they agree – teach the young, but learn only from the old?

Would the Educational Psychologist concur? Do children and youth exhibit the power of data retention, as opposed to an older person's ability to process and apply knowledge? And should our educational curriculum follow this dichotomy?

In reading Rabbi Meir in 4:27, it would seem that he disagrees with this sharp distinction based upon age. He argues that one must not judge a book by its cover, or a person in accordance with their age. Some young people exhibit extraordinary wisdom, insight and sensitivity. Some mature adults reflect an immaturity and have little to share in knowledge or worldly advice. Rabbi Meir cautions us to afford young people the opportunity to prove themselves, and not to automatically defer to the elderly unless they offer insight and vision.

Why We Stay Awake on Shavuot.

I love this piece from Michael Rosenak (from his article, "The Mitzvot, The Messiah and The Territories", Tradition Spring 1969.)

The Torah is both a yoke and a joy. Shavuot is the day of the giving, more than of the accepting of the Torah, and we celebrate this festival with a wearying all-night vigil of study. Mount Sinai was raised over our heads and we were offered the choice of death or submission. For the Jewish people there is thus no life without it, but our history records how difficult we found it to live with the Torah. From the days in the desert when our forefathers nostalgically recalled the fish that they ate free in Egypt “free of mitzvot,” explains the Sifre, until the various movements of assimilation of our day, we encounter, again and again, the desire of Jews to be freed from the burden of their Jewish tasks. For the Torah is an ever-present task; it makes immediate demands at every moment of our lives, never relaxing its hold — and we are often sorely tempted to seek meaning in nostalgic romanticisms of the past or in future utopias (such as those of our revolutionary assimilationists) rather than in the present situation which demands, first and foremost, not the dream but the halakhah.

And yet, even while it is a burden, the Torah is a joy and a light. Once we bind ourselves to it wholly, it brings the eternal and Divine into our everyday existence. Through the Torah, we find the spiritual stamina to perform prosaic tasks unprosaically. In the knowledge that God is to be found and obeyed in the everyday, the routine becomes sacred. When we live by the mitzvot, we realize that we have been blessed with a Torah of truth, through which everlasting life has been planted in our midst. This is the Torah that was given as though today, to give meaning and a redemptive quality to today’s act. And then we recall that the Torah was not only imposed upon but also freely accepted by our forefathers and that the covenant was made not with our fathers alone but with each of us who is alive this day. And having realized this, we make God’s Torah our own, never tiring of constant repetition, rejoicing on Simkhat Torah that we are privileged to begin it anew at the moment we have completed it.