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September 14, 2001/Elul 26, 5761, Vol. 54, No. 1
Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur - Talmudic trivia and midrashic miscellanyOZZIE NOGGIt's probably OK for a layman to write about minor Jewish festivals and fast days. Explaining the history of Tisha B'Av or 17 Tammuz, for instance, takes no special knowledge. And a person can't get into deep trouble discussing Purim, Hanukkah or Passover, even if that person has no Ph.D. in Judaic Studies.Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, on the other hand, should be approached with caution. We amateurs who choose to write about sin, repentance, judgment and forgiveness run the risk of committing very grievous theological or philosophical gaffes. And so, when dealing with these awesome days, I'll stick to the relative safety of Talmudic trivia, midrashic miscellany, customs and folklore. I know my limitations. For openers: Is Rosh Hashana really the birthday of the world? Well, the Hebrew letters in the word bereshit (in the beginning) can be rearranged to make the words 1 Tishri - the date of Rosh Hashana - so who needs more proof? Then again, another midrash says the world was created on 25 Elul, making Rosh Hashana/1 Tishri fall on the sixth day of creation - the day God made man. The logic being that the beginning of humanity marked the real beginning of Creation. Now, we can't discuss the New Year without discussing the shofar, said to echo the conscious-stricken human voice. Think about it. Tekiah is a deep moan. Teruah, a wavering sob. And Shevarim, a broken groan. Getting even a few squeaks out of the shofar - let alone the regulation 100 - isn't easy, and an accomplished ba'al tekiah (the one who does the tooting) is a treasure. And now, let's talk Tashlich, the Rosh Hashana ritual that involves a hike to a stream or to a river with fish in it. Once there, we say some verses about casting sins into the sea, shake out our pockets or toss bread crumbs into the water and ZAP! All the crummy things we did last year are washed away. And why Tashlich, altogether? Pick your midrash. We, like fish, are helplessly caught in the net of life. The fish, whose eyes never close, symbolize God who never sleeps. We visit water to give gifts to the spirits who live there, to ensure they won't harm us in the coming year. Some New Year culinary customs: Don't eat nuts on Rosh Hashana. Why? Because the Hebrew word for nuts - through some Gematric trickery - has the same numerical value as the Hebrew word for sin. And why apples and honey? Because God's presence, according to the Zohar, is like an apple orchard. When making tzimmis, cut the carrots in rounds so they look like coins. That will bring a sweet year and a prosperous year, as well. The challah should be round, too, so your year will roll by smoothly with no unhappy bumps. In the shtetl, the highlight of the 10 days of repentance between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur was Shabbat Shuvah -the Sabbath of Return. That's when the rabbi gave THE sermon. A scathing harangue during which he mercilessly berated the congregation for their sins. The people wept. The sermon took hours, and why not? Back then, the rabbi spoke only twice a year, at Passover and on Shabbat Shuvah, so he had to make up for lost time. To give tzedakah before a holiday is important. To give tzedakah before Yom Kippur is imperative. Charity, along with prayer and repentance, is central to Yom Kippur. So pick your favorite cause and send a check. Remember, if a person comes to you before Yom Kippur and apologizes for a wrong he committed against you, you must forgive him. Don't hold grudges. And don't seek vengeance. If you don't forgive those who did you wrong, your prayers will not be heard on Yom Kippur. And you can ask forgiveness even of the dead. Just go with 10 men to the grave of the injured party and ask forgiveness while you walk around the grave three times (barefooted, preferably). If the grave is too far away for you to visit, you may send others to offer your apology. All of which proves it's never too late to make peace with neighbors and family. Okay. Now, for any of you unfamiliar with schlogging kappores, here's the simple formula. On the day before Yom Kippur, swing a live hen or rooster around your head three times while saying, "This is my substitute, my atonement. This bird will die but I will live a long, pleasant and peaceful life." Having thus transferred your sins to the fowl, you slaughter the traumatized bird and give its meat to the poor. Today, charity money wrapped in a handkerchief is commonly used instead of the rooster, but without the flying feathers the whole ceremony loses most of its charm, if you ask me. Kol Nidre: The prayer that stirs our souls and psyches is really just a legal statement releasing us from all vows and obligations made from this Yom Kippur to the next. Rabbis have long debated the merits of Kol Nidre, feeling its intent can be misunderstood by Jew and non-Jew alike. Does Kol Nidre allow us to blithely make promises we don't intend to keep? Do the words mean Jews can't be trusted? How can we vow "unwittingly," and how can Kol Nidre cancel vows made to this one but not to that one? There are rabbinic explanations for all of this, of course, but maybe we should just follow the advice of the Talmud and not vow at all. Al Chet (for the sin) is one of the most important prayers of Yom Kippur. Interestingly enough, the word "chet" doesn't mean sin, but "to miss the mark." In other words, we're not wicked. We're just a bit off target. Near the end of the Ne'ilah (Closing) Service of Yom Kippur, the words, "Adonai Hu HaElohim" (The Lord, He is God) are repeated seven times. Curious as to why? Tradition says the seven times corresponds to the seven heavens above which God dwells. Or could it possibly correspond the "seventh heaven" we feel we've reached, having just make it through another fast? And another year? One last thing. It's customary to start building your sukkah immediately after you get home from Yom Kippur services. Just hammer in one nail. It show that our devotion to God never stops and that our observance of God's mitzvot is continuous. Le'shanah tovah tikatev. May you be inscribed for a good year. And Gemar hatimah tovah. May the final verdict be a favorable one. And, "next year in Jerusalem," or - lacking that - may you find yourself in a warm, dry place with family and friends around you. Peace, peace, everyone. To the far and the near. Ozzie Nogg is a free-lance writer living in Omaha, Neb. |
