Rosh HaShanah Morning 5774 September 5, 2013 / 1 Tishrei 5774 Reflections Shofar Blasts and Boston Strong Rabbi Jeffrey Wildstein

Transcription

1 Rosh HaShanah Morning 5774 September 5, 2013 / 1 Tishrei 5774 Reflections Shofar Blasts and Boston Strong Rabbi Jeffrey Wildstein EARLY: Are you ready for the Shofar? That s the highlight of this morning, right to hear those Shofar blasts, and to be pulled into the New Year? LATE Wasn t it great to hear the Shofar? That s the highlight of this morning, right to hear those Shofar blasts, and to be pulled into the New Year? But, why? What is it about these sounds that create such a stirring within us? Surely, part of it is the deep, mournful tones that nothing natural besides a ram s horn can produce. But, also, part of it is 1

2 exactly what we are listening to when we hear the Shofar. The Talmud teaches us that the shofar blasts we are hearing are expressions of the deepest emotion a human can make long sighs or piercing cries. In this case, the Talmud equates the Shofar with the long sighs or cries of a woman. (Rosh HaShanah 33b) But, which woman? [pause] Is it any woman, or someone specific? For we Jews, a people so strongly tied to our history and our Scripture, a people with a Midrashic tradition, we would expect that the Talmud is referring to a specific Biblical figure, and in one opinion, the Talmud does name a specific woman whose cries are captured by the Shofar. So, whose cries are we hearing that can so affect a people for generations? One would think that this woman would be someone connected to these High Holy Days. So, certainly, the crying woman of the Shofar might be Sarah. As we read in this morning s Torah portion, the Akeidah, Abraham has taken his and Sarah s beloved son, Isaac, to 2

3 Mount Moriah to sacrifice him according to God s command. We might be hearing Sarah s cries as she learns of this, her worst nightmare come true. Or, this woman might be Hannah. For, as we hear in this morning s Haftarah, Hannah, barren and disappointing to her husband Elkanah, cries in bitter grief to God for a son. Perhaps we are hearing Hannah s prayer and cries in the Shofar blasts. Or, perhaps we are hearing the cries of Hagar, for in traditional synagogues, Hagar s story is read on Rosh HaShanah. Hagar was Sarah s handmaiden, and Sarah gave her to Abraham to produce an heir when it seemed Sarah would not. After Sarah gave birth to Isaac, she had Abraham cast Hagar and her child, Ishmael, into the desert. Hagar cries out in frustration and despair, believing she and her son would perish. Perhaps we are hearing these cries of Hagar in the shofar blasts. 3

4 We might even be hearing the cries of Miriam, for Miriam is also connected to the High Holy Days. Miriam complains about Moses s wife, a Cushite woman. So, God punishes Miriam by giving her leprosy, and she cries. Moses pleads with God, three times asking God to heal his sister Eil na r fa na la. which is the source of the commandment to us to ask for forgiveness as many as three times for our wrongs. Perhaps the shofar blasts are Miriam s cries, reminding us of our obligation to seek teshuvah. The Talmud says no. The shofar blasts are not Miriam. They are not Hagar. They are not Hannah or Sarah. Instead, the Talmud connects the shofar blasts to another woman. It connects the Shofar blasts.to Sisera s mother. Sisera s mother. Let me have a show of hands who remembers who Sisera s mother was? OK, does anyone remember Sisera? No? A few? Let me tell you what the Bible says about Sisera and his mother. 4

5 Sisera is a figure in the Book of Judges, and is a part of the story of the prophetess Deborah. The Israelites had fallen under the rule of the Canaanite king, Yavin. Sisera was the captain of King Yavin s army who, as we are specifically told, strongly oppressed the Israelites for twenty years with nine hundred iron chariots. The Midrash teaches us that Sisera was brutal and powerful, conquering every nation he ever fought. His voice alone was so strong that it would cause strong walls to collapse and the wildest animal to drop dead. (Yalkut Shimoni Shoftim, Perek Dalet, Remez 43) Deborah finally convinced a man named Barak to lead an army against this mighty leader. Through divine intervention, Sisera s army is defeated, but Sisera escaped until he was enticed into the tent of a woman named Ya el, who killed him. (Judges 4) Following Sisera s defeat and death, Deborah sang a song. In that song, Deborah mentioned Sisera s mother: The mother of Sisera looked out the window, And mourned through the lattice. 5

6 Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why are the hoof beats of his steads so late? (Judges 5:28) The sages note that the Hebrew word used for Sisera s mother looking out the window, vateyabab, is virtually identical to the word used for the proper length of a shofar blast, yabab. Grammatically, Sisera s mother is thus connected to the Shofar sounds, and in the Talmud, if things are connected grammatically, they are connected contextually as well. So, according to the Talmud, the woman s sighs and cries we are hearing when we hear the shofar blasts are those of Sisera s mother, mourning and longing for the return of her son, the brutal oppressor of the Israelites. How can this be? Why would we possibly be asked to recall the mother of a brutal oppressor at the holiest, most meaningful, most spiritual, most emotional time of the year? It seems illogical, and unreasonable. Indeed, Deborah s song goes on to describe Sisera s mother as asking, Hasn t my son and his army been victorious and 6

7 gathered the spoils of war? (Judges 5:30) This is not a sympathetic image. Why should we hear this woman s cries year after year? Why should we care about her? But, this is exactly what the rabbis are asking us to do to think about someone as unsympathetic as Sisera s mother, and to care about her even with all of her and her son s faults and evil acts. At the moment when we could be concerned only with our own pain, our own fears, and our own hopes for repentance, we are called to think and care about the same drives in others. We are called and reminded especially at this crucial liturgical moment to be a holy people to have compassion for all God s creations, to love our neighbors as ourselves, to care, to acknowledge pain no matter who suffers it, to seek peace and pursue it. The shofar s allusion to Sisera s mother reminds us that, at a moment when we might choose to only look inward and think about ourselves, we are commanded also to look outward to all others. 7

8 We are reminded not to be selfish. We are reminded to be human. We are reminded to be holy. Does this concern for all people mean that we cannot defend ourselves and seek justice against those who wish us harm? No, of course not. The Torah calls for responsibility and justice, and we certainly cannot continue as an eternal people in covenant with God unless we defend ourselves. After all, there are plenty of stories in the Tanach of justice imposed and the Israelites defending themselves the story of Deborah, Ya el and Sisera is just one example of this. But, the connection of the shofar blasts to Sisera s mother is a reminder that while we defend ourselves and seek justice, it is easy to lose ourselves in the emotions of the moment, to overreact, to begin to hate. And if we do that, we lose our holiness, and we lose our humanity. We become precisely the evil we seek to eradicate. And, in losing our standing as a holy people, we could lose a future reward as well. For the Talmud teaches us that, as bad and awful as Sisera might have 8

9 been, his descendants eventually studied Torah in Jerusalem. Eventually, a better time did come, but it could come only because the Israelites maintained themselves as a holy, caring, compassionate people. (San. 96b) This is so important for us to remember as we reflect upon our past year here in Boston. Patriots Day and the Boston Marathon are a huge part of our tradition and community. And, as we all know, this past April, on this day where we all come together to celebrate, we were attacked. At first, we reacted with shock and fear and anger. We mourned and sought justice. Those first few days shook us to the core. But, then, something amazing happened. We turned to each other. Our resolve to overcome our fear outpaced just about every other concern. We embraced each other. We dedicated ourselves to making sure that we were not changed by this attack. Story after story emerged of people who were injured and families who lost loved ones determined to recover as much as possible. Runners who did not 9

10 complete the Marathon met one week after the bombing and finished the last mile, just to show that they would not be stopped. We donated to the OneFund. We helped each other. And we pledged to make Marathon Day of 2014 bigger and better than ever. Things didn t need to happen this way. We could have forgotten our holiness and our humanity. We could have remained in fear and anger. We could have turned on each other, and stereotyped, and blamed innocents along with the guilty. We could have despaired; instead we aspired. We could have held on to hate; instead, we held on to hope. In short, we were, and are, Boston Strong. And this is what the shofar on Rosh HaShanah calls for us to be every year, but especially this year. To be strong. To be strong of spirit. It takes strength to keep hope and rebuild in the face of tragedy. It takes courage to maintain humanity in a place where others act inhuman. The shofar s blast is a call to teshuvah to return to move 10

11 away from the dark and turn to the holy to remember that we always believe that the good in us will win and that the day will come when we all will live in peace and none shall be afraid if we refuse to allow ourselves to be taken from the path of kindness, compassion and community that God has set before us. If we remain strong. We will need this lesson in the future as well as now, for we know the imperfect world we live in. We know we will be tested again. Maybe not as badly, or maybe worse. But, if we stay strong, the same way we did this past year, we will persevere. There is a statement we make when we complete a book of the Torah or a course of study, to encourage us to keep going, even if we tire or become discouraged. Chazak, chazak, v nit chazek - be strong, be strong, and may we be strengthened. May we continue to be strong and be strengthened for a good year, a better year, together. Chazak, chazak, v nit chazek. Ken y hi ratzon May this be God s will. 11