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Look to see opportunities
Torah Study
RABBI ISMAR SCHORSCH
Rosh Hashana
The 20th century American artist Georgia O'Keefe, known for her enlarged and stylized flower studies, once said: "Nobody sees a flower really - it is so small - we haven't time, and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time."
Whatever else our High Holidays might be, they are surely about helping us sharpen our vision. If I had to reduce the drama and choreography, the prayer and music of this protracted season, to a single, encompassing goal, it would be to enable us to catch another glimpse of what has grown dim. Because seeing afresh cannot be hurried, we must slow down and withdraw, gradually diminishing the bombardment of distractions.
The Torah reading for the first day of Rosh Hashana takes up the subject of seeing. It tells of the expulsion of Abraham's concubine Hagar, who bore him a son with Sarah's consent, while Sarah remained barren. Yet once Isaac appeared,
Sarah could no longer suffer the presence of either Hagar or Ishmael and demanded that Abraham cast them out.
Assured by God that they will survive, Abraham sends them forth into the wilderness with provisions. But Hagar goes astray and soon runs out of food and water. In her distress, she lays Ishmael beneath a bush and removes herself, so that she might not hear the searing sounds of his death. God, however, tells Hagar to return to her boy, for he, too, like his half-brother, shall sire a great nation.
"Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water" (Genesis 21:19). The well had always been there; overcome by panic, Hagar had simply failed to see it. It was her inner state - not her surroundings - that God transformed.
We are confronted with this tale at the very outset of these Days of Awe to remind us that we, too, are oblivious to the wells of salvation that lie within our reach.
Judaism does not aspire to see God. Judaism is a this-worldly religion. Our gaze should be fixed on the world in which we live. Each day in the opening blessings of the morning service, we thank God, after another night's sleep, for restoring to us the inestimable gift of sight. On a deeper level, I have always felt those words included a plea for depth vision, to see the nature of our lives and of the world as truly constituted.
This is the profound yet realistic goal of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Repentence and redirection do not spring from divine grace, but human effort. The vast compendium of the Mahzor is designed to imbue us once again with perspective that might lead to action. The profusion of prayers turns on but a few grand themes.
The liturgy is an exercise in shrinking our ego. Repeatedly we intone the majesty and supremacy of God to whom we are subservient and accountable. We remind ourselves of our insufficiencies and muster the candor to confess our sins. The introspection is driven by facing reality. We have squandered another year, and the time of our death draws ever closer.
The blast of the shofar summons us to live as God's partner and not adversary, as the human condition cries out to each of us to make a difference. Repeatedly, the Mahzor affirms that the choice is ours alone. It resides neither in our genes nor in our circumstances.
Atonement and not forgiveness is what we seek. The consequences of our actions can be mitigated, but not wholly reversed or erased. "Penitence, prayer and good deeds can annul the severity of the decree," but no more than that. God awaits our return, but we must take the initiative to heal the rupture. At one with God again, we can set about to assuage the hurt we have administered to others.
Such is the theological matrix for our annual spiritual inventory. Judaism offers no instant gratification, no deathbed conversions, only an arduous process of self-correction, studded with slips and setbacks. The path is also embedded with recurring opportunities to turn intention into action, and thereby to reinforce the inner transformation underway.
If we take the time to experience the High Holidays fully, they will endow us with the vision and momentum to lift our lives to undreamed of spiritual heights.
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City.
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