Erev Rosh Hashanah – 2023

Great songwriter Leonard Cohen put to words in his 1993 novel beautiful losers, what I view  as one of the challenges of not only Rosh Hashanah, but the entirety of our High Holy Days: “How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?” How can we remember, even honor, and put in its place our past, some of which can be painful or difficult, honor this day and this moment, and move forward into the future? How do we reconcile all of that?

Our famous and powerful Untaneh Tokef prayer says to us: “Let us proclaim the power of this day–a day whose holiness awakens deepest awe.” How do we celebrate the power of this day, and all the days that make up our High Holy Days? We hear prayers and some melodies that we recognize and remember- that harken all the way back to many of our childhoods. Some of these memories are perhaps more clearly profound than others. I always think of my mother describing her childhood High Holy Day experience with a smile. She vividly expresses her memories of sitting in synagogue counting ceiling tiles and lights with her sister during her High Holy Day experience. She can also specifically describe the pain of trying not to laugh uncontrollably during the most somber moments of services–the clear creator of a future Rabbi! One of the themes of the High Holy Days is Zichronot, or Remembrances. God is said to Remember how our actions have impacted others over not only the past year, but throughout the history of creation. No pressure. How do we maintain the beauty of our memories and tradition, and also become active and dynamic in the process of celebrating and moving forward, as Leonard Cohen alluded to? How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?

Let’s talk about the right now as a start. How do we live in the spiritual awe of these moments together without them becoming performative, stale, or something to “get through unscathed?” Does the Divine worry about our pronunciation of the Hebrew we are speaking during an Aliyah or an English reading we have agreed to? Do we get bogged down in these types of anxieties, even in our daily lives? Do we ever get lost in the minutiae? Do we ever do what I did when my wife Meghan brought me to a painting class in Saratoga Springs earlier this year. Do I work on one “wrong” tree for an hour, while neglecting the entire landscape? Do we ever become bogged down with the branches while the forest needs attention? What puts you in touch with the power and awe of this day? Many holy arks have written above the place where we keep our Torahs, the Talmudic adage “Dah Lifnei mi atah omed- know before Whom you are standing.” While this might sound a bit foreboding, perhaps the God we are standing before is a God who longs to hear from us. This is not a threat or an intimidation. This is an invitation. Perhaps it is not about “getting it right,” but about our intention, our kavannah. If this is your first time or 100th time in Temple this year, it does not matter. We are here, right now, together, be it in person or virtual. What are the odds that we have all come together to pray, to sing, to simply be congregated for common purpose? One of the great Jewish minds of the 20th century, Abraham Joshua Heschel, tells us that we can live life in “radical amazement” if we try. Everything is phenomenal, and nothing is casual. The great Hasidic Rabbi Nachman of Bratslov advocated for the practice of “Hitbodedut” or self-isolation. Please do not be alarmed by the term “isolation,” as I know we have had more than enough of that during the past few years with the horrors of COVID. This type of prayer simply involves talking to God on our own terms, forgetting the possible pretense and scriptedness of some of our prayers, and just letting go. Perhaps we can practice this type of prayer over the next ten or so days? We are allowed to talk to God anywhere, anytime, in any melody, in any voice.

So, How about all of those yesterdays that Leonard Cohen reminds us that we are so full of? In his work Zachor (“Remember”), Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi tells us that Jewish memory is actually a connection of past and present. Memory is not something that happened, or our ability to recall something. but it serves as a means to act in the present. We remember our deeds from the past in order to fuse them with our actions now. We are also a link in the chain of collective and active memory. Our footsteps in Judaism are not by the water’s edge. They have weight and gravity. They do not fade with the rising and lowering tides. They are etched in marble, sometimes even morphing to support the footsteps of those who have yet to come. Our recitation of Kaddish, observance of Yahrzeits, attendance at Yizkor services, recognizes the power of the past to connect with the present and even create a pathway to the future. 

Speaking of the future; can we use these High Holy days as a springboard into the future? Even packed with the baggage of yesterday, we can use our experiences to learn and grow. In the Torah, before Jacob died, he wanted to bless his children. He said,  “Gather around so I can tell you what will happen to you in days to come. Assemble and listen, children of Jacob; listen to your father Israel.” According to our great commentator Rashi, “Jacob wished to reveal what would happen in the future, but in that moment the Divine presence was removed from him.” Jacob wanted to be able to tell the future, but he was unable to do so. Why is this an important detail? The High Holy Days give us the opportunity to live in the moment, learn from the past, and shape the future. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, spoke on this exact topic. He said, “ We make the future by our choices. The script is not yet written. The future is radically open.” Jacob couldn’t tell the future, because it had not yet been written. When you pick up your pen after today, what will you write? 

We have stressors, we have anxiety, we have responsibilities in the secular world. We come so full of yesterday, and with the anxiety of tomorrow. Living in the here and now, and where our feet are can become quite challenging. I like to think of the Yamim Noraim (the days of awe), as one long day wherein we are given the holy permission to remove ourselves from separating past, present and future. We can live in all of these moments at the same time, fusing ourselves with tradition and memory, and hope for brighter tomorrows, all within the context of the holiness of the now. 

Let us allow the calls of the Shofar to transport us into a different consciousness. The call ‘Shevarim” literally means broken. I look at this positively. We break down the mirage of disconnection, and begin to piece together the puzzles of who we are. I believe that our active celebration during these High Holy Days is practice for all the rest of the days of the year. If we believe the great aforementioned Rabbi Heschel, who tells us that celebrating is giving attention to the meaning of one’s actions, we are here to look inward, to leave behind a bit of the secular, and to give ourselves permission to look at why we do what we do, and if we want to continue doing it. Do we want to change something this year? Are there aspects of our lives we can approach differently? This introspection is a holy type of celebration. Can there be joy in the temporary discomfort of change?

“How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?”—Perhaps by honoring that yesterday, letting it inform our actions now, and actively creating the future as we move forward.

I want to leave you with a very short story from our tradition. There is a midrash, or a Jewish story if you will, about a man named Nacshon ben Aminadav of the tribe of Judah. It is said that during the Exodus when the people of Israel were stuck between Pharaoh and the vengeful Egyptian army and the Sea of Reeds, the sea did not just part because Moses raised his hands and his staff.. Nachson ben Aminadav walked into that sea. Only once he was fully immersed in the water, did the sea part. Nachson believed with his whole heart that his actions would shape the future. He left the past of Egyptian bondage, had faith in the gravity of the moment, and this created a future on the other side of the sea. It starts with one step. Let us have faith as we enter the sea together. “How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?” How can anything be new without yesterday? Let’s connect the past, present and future together. Let us combine those flames into one beautiful and radiant light. 

Shana Tovah 

– Rabbi Josh Gray