Published in ‘Shabbaton,’Parshat Vayishlach, 14 Kislev, 5772.

How should we feel on Rosh HaShanah? Is it a day of fear and trembling? A day of Judgement?  Or, is it a festival?

The answer is that it is both.  And this dialectic is expressed in the halakhik literature.

After discussing the criteria necessary for reciting the Hallel on a festival, the Talmud concludes that it is inappropriate to recite Hallel on  Rosh Hashanah:

The ministering angels asked the Holy One Blessed Be He, ‘Master of the World, why does Israel not sing praise before you on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur?’ He said to them, ‘Is it possible that the King sits on his Throne of Judgement and Israel should sing?’ (Arachin 10b; Rosh HaShanah 32b)

We are filled with uncertainty and doubt concerning our fate.  How can we sing Hallel? How can we even eat? 

Rabbeinu Asher, at the end of his commentary to Chap. 4 of Masechet Rosh HaShanah, discusses the custom that some Geonim record of fasting on Rosh HaShanah.  He cites other Geonim who offer a different approach and concludes that Rosh HaShanah is a festival and fasting is inappropriate. (See also Mordechai to Masechet Rosh HaShanah Chap. 1; Tur Orach Chayyim 597 & Beit Yosef, ad loc.; Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayyim 597:1 & Mishnah Brurah, ad loc.)

Many authorities point to a passage in Nehemiah, which seems to capture the appropriate attitude towards Rosh HaShanah.  The story goes as follows: On the 1^st of the Seventh Month (Rosh HaShanah), Ezra reads the Torah publicly for those who ascended from Bavel.  They are shaken when they realize just how foreign the words of the Torah are and how far they have strayed from it.  They begin to cry and mourn.  Ezra, Nechemiah and the Levites tell them:

‘Today is a holy day to Hashem your God; do not mourn and do not weep.’  For all of the people were weeping as they heard the words of the Torah.  He said to them, ‘Go eat rich foods and drink sweet drinks and send portions to those who have nothing prepared, for today is sacred to our God.  Do not be sad; the joy of Hashem is your strength.  (Nechemiah 8:9-10)

It would seem from this passage that Rosh HaShanah should be celebrated, like all festivals, with festive meals.  The prophet suggests in doing so, we provide Hashem with joy.

In the Torah, Rosh HaShanah is included together with all of the other festivals, and just like them considered a “holy convocation”(Vayikra, Chap. 23). It is even called a festival (Psalm 81:4; Rosh HaShanah 18a; Sukkah 55a; Arachin 10b; Sotah 41a).  In fact, some Geonim record the custom of incorporating the festival liturgy into the Rosh HaShanah amidah (See Rabbeinu Asher, loc cit).

In addition, the joy of Rosh HaShanah nullifies aveilut, the customs of mourning, just like any festival would (See Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah 399:6).

There is a beautiful passage in the Talmud Yerushalmi that expresses our confidence:

 …Who is like this Nation? The practice of the world is when one knows that he is awaiting judgement – he wears black, wraps himself in black, grows his beard – for he does not know what the verdict will be.  But Israel is not like that.  They wear white, wrap themselves in white, trim their beards, eat, drink and rejoice – for they know that the Holy One Blessed Be He will be merciful and forgive them.  (Rosh HaShanah 1:3)

But the potential for hubris is tempered.  While many authorities instruct us to “eat, drink and rejoice,” we are warned not to go overboard, as indulging too much doesn’t befit the seriousness of the day.  (Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayyim 597:1, citing the Agudah).  And while we wear our nice clothes, some suggest we should not wear our finest silk or embroidered clothing, settling instead for simple white garments (Turei Zahav to Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayyim 581).

The Psalmist captures the emotions of Rosh HaShanah when he instructs us to “rejoice with trembling” (Psalm 2:11).  How is that accomplished?  When one stands before Hashem there is tremendous fear, but also tremendous joy.  We relate to Hashem both as our king (malkeinu) and our father (avinu).

Rosh HaShanah is a day filled with uncertainty and doubt; fear and trembling.  But it is also a festival.  And in celebrating it as a festival, we express our confidence; our trust in God.

Reb Shlomo Carlebach once told the following story:

One day, a man was riding the subway on his way home from work.  Looking around the subway car, his eyes met the eyes of a woman and he was instantly smitten.  He knew that she was his “beshert,” the woman destined to be his bride.  This was fate.

Just as he summoned up the courage to approach her, the train stopped at 34^th Street, Herald Square. But before he could get to her, she exited and the doors closed on him.  He got off at the next stop and ran up the stairs, knocking over anyone in his way.  He pushed through the crowd and opened the door to a cab.  Ignoring the couple waiting to enter the cab, he yelled at the driver, “take me to 34^th Street now!”

As he entered the taxi, a police officer who had witnessed the commotion apprehended the man and began to question him.  He tried to explain what was happening, but the cop wouldn’t let him go.  The man tried to run off but soon found himself in the back of the squat car – arrested for public disturbance and resisting arrest.  He spent that night in jail kicking himself and wondering if he would ever see that woman from the subway.

The next morning, he had to appear before the judge.  He was devastated.  His name was called and he looked up at the judge.  Smiling back at him from behind the bench was the woman from the train.

Indeed, Rosh HaShanah is the Day of Judgement- but we know the judge.

In describing the severity of the Plague of Locusts, the Torah tells us, “…Before it there was never a locust-swarm like it, and after it there will not be anything like it” (Ex. 10:14).  The Torah seems to be saying there never was and there never will be anything as severe.  The apparent difficulty is that the book of Yoel, one of the trei assar or twelve prophets, describes a plague of locusts “great and numerous, its like has not been from eternity, and after it there will never again be…” (2:2). How can this be? This seems to contradict the verse in our parsha that “after it there will not be anything  like it.”  The Torah explicitly states that the plague of locusts in Egypt will be unequalled throughout history.

So which plague was worse?

Rashi (ad loc) explains that there was a qualitative difference between the locusts of Egypt and the locusts of Yoel’s generation.  Yoel speaks of four species of locusts:  arbeh, yelek, chasil, and gazam.  It would seem that Egypt was only struck with arbeh.  According to Rashi, each plague is unique and therefore it can be said of each that the world never has “seen anything like it and never will again.”

Nachmanides, in his commentary, argues that the analysis of Rashi is flawed.  He shows how Psalms 78 and 105 refer to the chasil and yelek as having been part of the plague in Egypt.  Nachmanides then goes on to explain that both the Torah and the book of Yoel make their claims to emphasize that these plagues of locusts were not the normal infestation that was very common to that region.  In telling us that “there will never be another plague like it,” both the Torah and the book of Yoel are stressing that their respective plagues were “super-natural.”  Don Yitzchok Abravanel (15^th C. Spain) attempts to reconcile the Torah and Yoel  by stating that both the Torah and the Navi are referring to their respective locales.  He explains that for the Egyptians, no plagues will ever be as bad in Egypt.  And for Yoel’s generation, a plague will never be as severe  in the Land of Israel.

The Chatam Sofer says something profound.  He explains that for the Egyptians, the plague of locusts felt like the most devastating thing ever considering everything else they were experiencing.  Egypt had been struck with six devastating plagues prior to the locusts.  When they were punished with locusts it seemed like something so severe that “after it there will not be anything like it” because they had suffered so much already.  The Chatam Sofer teaches us a valuable lesson in interpersonal relationships.  One must be so sensitive when interacting with another person, because you never what else the other person is “going through.”

People are complex.  Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, compared the human personality to an iceberg.  We only see the tip.  There is so much more under the surface; hiding beneath the veneer.  We need to be sensitive, and follow the advice of our Chachamim: “Do not judge your fellow man until you stand in their place.” (Avot 2:4)

What follows is a fifth expression, “And I will bring you to the Land…”So why don’t we drink a fifth cup of wine at the Seder?

1) According to one version of a beraitta in Pesachim 118a, we should indeed have five cups (Rambam, Rif, Ba’al HaMaor, Ra’avad to Rif), the fifth accompanying Hallel haGadol (Psalm 136).

2) The Cup of Elijah is represents this “Fifth Expression,” the Ultimate Redemption.

3) Some explain that while the Four Expressions of Redemption were lasting, while the Fifth Expression was temporary as we were eventually exiled from our Land.

4) Da’at Zekeinim explains that the Fifth Expression, “And I will bring you to the Land…” is the fulfillment or basis for all the other expressions. It does not require its own cup of wine as all the other Expressions of Redemption are predicated upon it: G-d took us out of Egypt to give us a Torah and bring us to Eretz Yisrael.

5) Kli Yakar explains that in reality this Fith Expression is included in the Fourth Expression, where G-d promises, “I will take you to Me for a people…”

The gift of the Land of Israel represents the intimate relationship between G-d and His People. It is so basic, it doesn’t require it’s own expression through a cup of wine.

In our study of Torah, how are we we to view the Avot and other Biblical figures? Are they to be put on a pedestal? Are they infallible? Or, are they human beings like us, and subject to human frailty?