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.

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.

Mishteh Shimshon 5770

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?

At its very essence, it is a message of teshuvah: The people of Nineveh are told that if they continue on their path, “In forty days Nineveh shall be overturned” (3:4). Their response? Fasting and repentance: Man and beast alike abstain from food and drink. The King of Nineveh himself rises from his throne, dons sackcloth and sits in ashes. G-d sees their sincerity and they are spared. In fact, the Talmud (Rosh HaShanah 16b) cites this story as a proof text that one can change their fate by changing their actions. Such is the power of teshuvah. We even use the approach of Nineveh to teach how we should behave on a public fast day. (See Mishnah Ta’anit 2:1)

But why the story of Yonah? Many narratives in our Tanakh express sincere repentance.

And why, on Yom HaKippurim do we read the story of Nineveh, a gentile community engaged in teshuvah? Are there no stories about the Jewish Nation engaged in teshuva that could serve as an inspiration and teach the power of teshuvah?

The Rav, Rabbi Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik believed that the story of Yonah teaches a profound lesson: Concern for humanity.

While the sailors of the storm tossed ship cry out to their gods in fear, Yonah, in the holds of the ship, descends into a deep sleep; an escape of sorts. He is criticized by the captain who asks, “‘How can you sleep so soundly? Arise, call to your G-d! Perhaps G-d will pay us mind and we will not perish!’” (1:6) The captain’s call is a wake up call to understand one’s role in the world; One’s responsibilities to his fellow man. Can we sleep soundly while others suffer? Do we remain silent?

In fact, Yonah’s flight was more than a rebellion against G-d. Yonah’s flight represents a rebellion against society. Yonah shakes off the burden of mankind when he shakes off the burden of prophecy. This is his sin.

Yonah’s lack of empathy is most clearly expressed at the end of the sefer. Yonah is grieved after the city of Nineveh repents and is saved from destruction. Our Sages explain that Yonah is upset because he knows that the backsliding Jewish Nation will suffer greatly if compared to the people of Nineveh and their teshuvah. This was, in fact, the reason for Yonah’s flight. Now Yonah sits alone in his sadness. G-d creates for him a kikayon tree. It provides him with shade and gives him much joy. The next day at dawn, a worm attacks the tree and the tree dies. A hot wind blows in from the East and the sun beats down upon Yonah’s head. He is now even more despondent. He wants to die and says, “‘…death is better than my life’” (4:8). The kikayon, of course, was a lesson for Yonah. Tragically he did not comprehend its symbolism; the message lost.

At the end of the sefer (4:10-11), God Himself condemns Yonah’s lack of concern for humankind and says:

‘You took pity on the kikayon for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow; it lived one night and perished after one night. And I, shall I not take pity upon Nineveh, the great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and many animals as well?’

The Talmud teaches that empathy is central to the Jewish experience: When the People of Israel fought Amalek in Rephidim (Shemot 17:8-13), their success depended on the hands of Moshe being raised. (Of course it was not his hands but the realization of God above them, as Moshe’s hands pointed heavenward). The Torah describes how, “Moshe’s hands grew heavy, so they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it…” (v. 12) Our Sages ask, “Did Moshe not have a mattress or pillow upon which to sit?” and answer, “Rather, Moshe said ‘Since the Jewish People are in pain, I too shall be in pain.” The Gemara continues, and states “One who suffers with community will merit to witness the consolation of the community.” (Ta’anit 11a) Despite what Simon and Garfunkel might have you believe, no man is a rock and no man is an island. We have a responsibility to share in one another’s pain.

There is a story about a Chassid who had left the fold. He moved out of the shtetl, leaving his fellow Chassidim and beloved Rebbe for the big city in search of fame and fortune. After several years, he returned to visit his Rebbe. The former Chassid joined his Rebbe who was sitting by the fire. The Rebbe said nothing as time passed. As the two sat together quietly, the Rebbe took a piece of coal out of the fireplace with his cane and dragged it to the middle of the floor. They both sat silently watching as the single piece of coal began to sputter out. The message was clear: one needs community. We are social creatures. We have a responsibility to the community. As Hillel taught, “Do not separate yourself from the community.” (Mishnah Avot 2:4)

The liturgy of Un’taneh Tokef, the emotional climax of the Mussaf, reminds us that all inhabitants of the world pass before God like “members of the flock.” We express uncertainty and doubt over which nations are destined for “…sword and which for peace, which for famine and which for plenty.”

And while it is a day for reflection, Yom HaKippurim is not just about the individual. We have an obligation to pray for the entire world; to consider what we can do for our community and what we can contribute to society and to humanity. We must express our sincere concern for our fellow Jew, but also our fellow man, created in the image of God.