The Holiest Eight

Sukkot concludes with a connected and, at the same time, disconnected Holy Day. We peer over the set table to the One who is everpresent:

A long time ago, Rabbi Simon the Righteous revealed, ‘King David used to sling his harp above his bed. There it would hang suspended as David left for the world of dreams. Every night a north wind would gently caress the strings of the graceful harp. Gently the thrumming woke David from his slumber. In the still darkness of Jerusalem, David anticipated the task ahead. Immediately he would gather his heavy tomes and begin to study the holy words of the Torah.’1
Now inspired, David approached his table. Uncorking the ink and taking up his reed David set down his powerful and timeless words. Their inspiration has stirred readers through centuries that have stretched into millennia. The pious have found hope in those one hundred fifty poems. The afflicted have recovered broken parts of their souls. Celebrants have found reason to dance and laugh. The shunned have found an understanding heart.
Tehilim, Psalms, is the record of David’s midnight ruminations on God and Torah.
Each psalm is a poem requiring thoughtful reading and consideration. It s not always clear at first the actual goal of any particular psalm. Sometimes David seems to be speaking of his earlier life experiences. At times he is the voice for Moses, our teacher. In yet other places, David seems to know what lies in our heart and pierces it with his incisive words. While there are times when his exuberance for God is so great that it is difficult to key into the depth of his feelings; other times David is the voice of our soul.
It is believed that King David wrote a single chapter in his Psalms devoted to the brit milah, the covenant of the flesh that began with Abraham, our father. While there is little disagreement that David wrote a chapter about the covenant there is much discussion about which psalm is the one as none of them make overt mention of the brit milah.
Some believe the chapter of the covenant is actually the twelfth psalm. They base their claim on the introduction where David wrote, “An ode for the victorious on the Eighth, a psalm by David.” The brit milah takes place on the eighth day after birth. Would not this would be the allusion to the covenant? What else could the “Eighth” be if not the brit? Yet there is a larger problem with this: no other mention is made of the brit milah throughout this entire psalm.
Perhaps, suggests sage Rabbi Eliahu Gutmacher, the reference lies in the sixth chapter, not the twelfth. The sixth psalm opens with the words, “For the victorious one who plays the song on the Eighth.” We sing songs and praises when the brit milah is performed as another Jew comes into the holy covenant. Could this Psalm be the one because mentions the word 'song'?
What does the number ‘eight’ signify? It is the first day of humanity’s earthly existence. Remember that the seventh day is the Shabbat. That too was a creation of the Holy One. Shabbat is volitional not passive. Shabbat did not occur because God’s creative processes had stopped. On the contrary, the Shabbat was the final act of the One. The Shabbat was as much a creation as the moon.
Not until the first Shabbat ends is man on his own. Until then the process of creation have continued seamlessly. From the swirling chaotic mass of the cosmos to the seas teeming with life to the act of the Seventh Day, God has endeavored to craft both time and space. Eight is then when life stands of its own accord outside the borders of God's Creation. The eighth day after Creation is really the first day of humanity. The day of the brit milah, the eighth day after a life has been born, is likewise the first day of its Jewish life. Mimicking the seven days of Creation, the newborn waits for its moment which arrives on the morrow.
Shmini Atzeret, the least well-known of all the holy days, also arrives after a full week of celebration of the connective holy day, Sukkot. After seven days of singing Hallel; sitting, eating and rejoicing under the sun and stars in the Sukkah; shaking the four species, we conclude our Festival. Now, like the eighth day after Creation we are bereft of the guiding arm of the mitzvot of Sukkot. There is no waving of the etrog and lulav. There are no more blessings in the Sukkah. We are done. It is complete.
There is only a single moment – this Shmini Atzeret --before we reclaim our lives and move on. Where do we go? How do we proceed? That is the likeness to the eighth day after the Creation: we now choose our path. All the structure and practices of Rosh Hashanna, Yom Kippur and Sukkot come to a crashing halt. We choose like Adam and Eve emerging from Eden on the eighth day.
Perhaps the missing psalm of David is a paean to Shmini Atzeret. Could the most hidden of all the psalms be the one that challenges us to start over? A new beginning? Might the last of the holy days be a gift where we can put into place all the sorrows, vows and tears of the previous month? The ultimate new start.

1 Berachot 3b

Living Now

The Rebbe of Ropfchitz gathered his followers together. "Let me tell you a holy tale," he began.

"The Czar was once riding in a long procession. On one side of the Czar were the high walls of a fortress. On the other side were the poor people massed beside the road to watch the colorful parade of soliders passing by. They clapped and cheered.
No one knew that behind one of the slits on the high wall was an assassin waiting for an opportunity to kill the Russian leader.
One of the alert soliders of the Czar saw the glint of the steel arrowhead jutting out from the wall. Not knowing how to stop the arrow he shouted as loud as he could. The sudden and fearful voice made the Czar's horse rear. Just then the arrow came down like a blur and landed just inches from where the Czar stood one moment before.
Seeing how the brave solider had acted to save his life the Czar summoned the man to stand before him.
"You have saved my life," he said. "What can I do for you? How can I reward you?"
"Well," thought the solider. "Our sergeant is a mean-spisitred man. He abuses us. He hits and curses us all the time. Can I be transferred out of his regiment?"
"Is that what you want?" asked the Czar.
"Yes. That is all," he replied meekly.

"Do not be afraid," Rebbe of Ropfchitz told his acolytes. "Do not fear to speak before God. Imagine if the young solider had asked to be made a general himself. Perhaps he could have asked the Czar for great riches. Instead, all he asked was for a simple reprieve.
"Speak with God and do not be ashamed to ask. The fate of the universe might rest on your shoulders."

Sukkah: The Meeting Place for God

Having lifted the kiddush cup, blown the shofar, davenned, fasted and cried we come to the intimate time of resting in God's delightful shade. The Festival of Sukkot commences shortly. A look at some of what it brings:

“I saw the Lord,” states the prophet. 1

Throughout the long epochs and covering the globe, the goal of every God-fearing Jew has been the same; to peer at the Infinite One. Songs of yearning reach upward from the Shabbat table every week as we loftily sing of the possibility to connecting with God. Prayers reverberate throughout yeshiva study halls and shuls as Jews try to will the event into being. The longing to be touched by the Holy One is so compelling that we even celebrate those who were blessed with many opportunities to see God in their lifetimes.

On the Festival of Sukkot we welcome the dead into our ramshackle huts. Through successive evenings they come. The first to arrive is Abraham, then Isaac is welcomed, then comes Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Joseph and finally David. According to the mystic work, Zohar 2 each of these ancient ones are invited to each Sukka to bless the waiting people in them. We even recite an Aramaic formula begging the long dead to grace our table. We wait for their approach the same way as when we placed Elijah’s cup at the center of our tables at the seder and watched for his arrival.

We want their blessing because of who they were; namely people who were close to God. From the first to the last guest, each figure had an intimate relationship with God. Giving them a special designation, Ushpizin, we hunger for them to accept our invitation. Even more, we cling to the hope that part of their holy encounter will be left at our table. Perhaps a fragment, even a crumb, of their connection with the One will fall in our Sukkah and so come to us.

One of the Hasidic masters, Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Kotsk, was told of another tzadik who said that he sees all seven Ushpizin in his sukkah each year. “They come to visit me each night. It is so holy.”
Menahem Mendel could only sigh. Lifting up his eyes, he remarked: "I myself don't see them, but I nevertheless believe that our sages, of blessed memory, had the great gift of witnessing the Ushpizin come to their Sukkah. It is through this faith that I see more than they do with their eyes!"

How did they see God?

“Each of the prophets saw the Holy One, blessed be he, through a smoked glass.” 3 That is they perceived God dimly. God was not distinctly seen by Joseph, David or the others. Only Moses had an unimpeded view of God , through a clear glass. 4 There was no barrier between Moshe Rabbenu and the Lord. That is why the Holy Torah states that Moses had “rays of light” beaming from his face as he descended Mt. Sinai. The encounter left Moses aglow with Divine sparks. No other prophet was so privileged to stand that close to the One. That is why the Talmud speaks of Moses peering at God through a clear lens.

What did Moshe Rabbenu see that left him with such radiance? The Zohar 5 tells that Moses saw what the prophets saw. They all witnessed the Infinite One in His glory. Each felt the tremendous awe of standing in the presence of the Lord God. Where there is a difference is which aspect of God they beheld.

The prophets saw God’s lowest projection into the universe, what is called the Shechina. The Shechina hovered over Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and focused their lives. They felt its command and responded with utter joy. It informed their words, movements and life. The Shechina sated them with power and purpose as it covered every one of the prophets with its light. However, the Shechina is not an absolute view of the Holy One, blessed be He. It is a slightly refracted or dim view of God. That is why the Talmud tells us that all the prophets, with the exception of Moses, looked at God through this clouded or smoked lens.

What about us? We are not so privileged as to get a full view of God’s Teferet, like Moses. We may not even merit the more indistinct view of the Holy One’s Shechina like the other prophets. That is why we sit in our Sukkot on the Festival and welcome in the Ushpizin of long ago. We ask them to attend to our Sukkah. We ask their blessing and we hope they might leave some of the sparks of their holy encounters with the One.

Reb Zusia loved to be the first to arrive at the synagogue each morning. He would rise early and rush to put on his tefillin as dawn came to the world. One day Reb Zusia was late. His students grew uneasy. This was not like their master. Finally, just before noon Reb Zusia staggered in the synagogue. A worried, concerned look was on his face. Finally they prayed.

When the prayers had ended the students approached their master and asked, “Why were you so late this morning, Reb Zusia? What happened?”

Zusia answered, “I will tell you, my students. Remember the prayer, modeh ani, “I will give thanks to You….?” This morning as I began to say the modeh ani I stopped when I came to the word “You.” The thought struck me: what is “I?” And what is the “You?” Who am I? Who am I to address the You of the universe? Who am I to talk to the Craftsman of All?
“I started the prayer again and I was drowning in an infinitesimal speck of nothingness. Who am I? I am nothing to call upon the Holy One, Master of Everything-that-is. I could not go on. I could go no further. It took me the rest of the morning to just get through that prayer.”

We venerate those who have come before us. They leave behind many great gifts. They left us a path to follow. That is why we invite them, the Ushpizin, to join us during Sukkot. Yet, like Zusia and Menahem Mendel perhaps their legacy is rich enough to find the Holy One treading our own path.


1. Isaiah 6:5
2 vol. 3, 103b
3 Taanit 49b
4 Ibid.
5 Zohar 1:120a

Cain, the First Murderer

Barely does the Torah begin to tell the narrative of life when there is a brutal murder. The reason for the act is not clear. Perhaps it does not matter. In the aftermath of such a deadful deed what is left? One man's physical life is over. Another man's future has been extinguished. Cain is scarred by his own act. What chance does Cain have? What hope can he latch on to? Is there redemption for such a man? Is Cain destined for endless wandering, emptiness and pain?
After the death of brother, Abel, God places a mark upon Cain's forehead. Reb Mordecai asks: "Why did the Holy One place such a mark on Cain? The outward sense of the Torah indicates that the sign was to prevent anyone from killing Cain out of vengeance or righteous indignation. Is this what the Text really means? Did the Holy One have the visible mark placed on Cain prevent more pain from entering the world?"
"No," said the Reb Mordecai.
"The reason for the mark was so that no one would defeat Cain's spirit of hopeful return. No one should say things that would detour Cain while he was intent upon teshuva, repentance."

Eating of the Tree and the Redemption

They gazed at the Forbidden Tree and were silent. The oppressive quiet that hovered a round the two people betrayed their inner nervousness. Their hearts fiercely beat against the walls of their chest. Inside, they yearned for the light of knowledge. They hungered to know! Excitement and anxiety mounted as they continued to look at the Tree as their ultimate liberation.
The Garden was perfect but, they assumed, there had to be something even greater than this. Why else would the Master have placed it in sight? In the center of the Garden? Why would He even have thought to create it?
There was an unspoken agreement that neither one would touch it because of the Master’s decree. Still, they wanted and watched. The desire grew. Glancing sideways, they wondered who would be the first. Adam played feigned disinterest. Pretending to look elsewhere his mind was fixed on the Tree of Knowledge and the great promise it held. Havvah was more openly curious. And brazen. There would be repercussions. How could there not be? If the Master decreed it should not be touched… But the issue of punishment and blame was further away from the tantalizing prospect of complete understanding.
Adding to the pressure were the words of the serpent. The long, narrow creature knew things that Adam and Havvah did not. He used it to his advantage. The serpent promised untold possibilities if they had the courage to step one foot closer. Then all they had to do was touch it. Then…

The ultimate truth revealed was that the knowledge gained was deceptive. To be sure, it held great promise but that promise was illusory. The civilizations spawned gave rise to great tomes of learning. The eyes of humanity tilted upward and imagined what the distant galaxies must hold.
Ideas became theories that were tested. Those theories proved powerful forces that changed the course of human development. Yet, along with all the inventions and unlimited curiosity came death and emptiness. The great and wisest king Solomon lamented, “All is fleeting. All is vapid and barren.”
Eating from the Tree gave powerful external vision at the expense of internal searching and understanding. The brilliant luminaries of every generation since the expulsion seek to find the hidden Eden.
On Yom Kippur, we gaze inward once again. We force our bodies to bring the mind back to the edge of real understanding.
In Leviticus 16 – which we read on Yom Kippur - a verse states that we must “atone our sins so that we can become purified.” Rabbi Eliyahu Munk said that the Day of Yom Kippur is a time when each Jew seeks purification and atonement. The first only happens when we make a move to come closer to what we could be. We know what that means. We must change. We need to become whole in our eyes. The process of purification occurs when we admit that knowledge has not redeemed us. Often time, in fact, it has served to only confound us and obscure what we know to be true in our hearts. Atonement happens at that moment. Purification begins when we initiate the process of change. When the Holy One peers into us and perceives sincerity, we are aided; we are granted atonement.
May the next day’s journey see us walking with God.

Yom Kippur and Our Angel

“Come let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” 1
In this single, terse, statement God reveals the first stirrings of the primal being called the Adam. Deliberately, the Text tells us that this Adam-being was modeled after God’s image. There is much discussion throughout the epochs about what this means. For those who say that we are crafted in an image or likeness, what kind of image do we reflect? A physical likeness? A freedom of mind that other creatures do not enjoy? Rashi, the medieval rabbinic genius, says that the uniting factor between people and God is the fact that we speak. The subject of how we resemble God has generated a lot of discussion, and a lot of heat, throughout the ages. Another outstanding, unanswered question is: To whom is God speaking? Not clear.
The verse quoted above seems to implicate another being. After all, who is the “us?” Who is God talking to? Some interpretations believe that the use of “us” is like the royal “we.” This may be true. Some other, more ancient sources indicate that the “us” is God talking into His counsel. These were an earlier creation, the Angels. When God declares that man is to be created by an “us,” the Holy One is involving His chief counselors in the highest spheres.
Who or what are the Angels? Like the rest of the universe, the Angels were cast into being by a Divine decree. Like the water and luminaries; like the animals and the foliage the Angels were brought into existence by the Word of the Almighty.
On the second day of Creation God made a “firmament.” It is not clear what this firmament is except that it is some sort of boundary. In Hebrew rakia, is the firmament which became the boundary between the upper and lower universe. This is not a physical division like that air that separates water from the sky; it is a split of dimension. The rakia maintains a barrier between the physical realm and the other which lies just beyond out tactile senses.
According to Rabbi Acha ben Jacob, there is only the barest hint of a division between the upper and lower realms. Rabbi Acha tells us that the rakia, the point of separation, is as “narrow as a hair’s breadth.” 2 The once seamless universe was thus separated by this thin veil that spread across the cosmos. What was the purpose of the rakia? Why did God need to create it on the second day? That was the same day that the Holy One brought Angels into existence. The Master wanted to ensure that those celestial beings did not interfere with the life that He was about to bring out of the earth. Angels were to inhabit the upper sphere while humanity lived in the lower sphere.
In fact, one of the early sages of the Second Temple era indicted that such diametrically opposed creation was necessary. “God made one as the other,” he said quoting Ecclesiastes. 3 In other words, everything that God created has its mate, complement or opposite. The most obvious example in the Creation tale is the Man and Woman. Before the emergence of the Woman the Man is destitute. The Bible tells us that he search throughout creation to find the complement to his soul but he could not locate a “helpmate against him.” 4 Note that the Man does not seek companionship. The Adam converses with the animals of the Garden. The come to him. He names them. Yet, nothing comes close to finding his true opposite. Only when the Adam finally sees the “helpmate against him” does the man become whole. The two creations balanced one another. Each creation has its counterpart. “The Garden of Eden had Gehenom.” “The mountains have the hills. The oceans have the rivers.” 5
Two universes were created and divided. The rakia, firmament, was the barrier that kept them from intermingling. The lower universe is our universe. The upper universe is the dominion of the celestial creations. Even though the rakia is thread-thin it acts as an effective barrier to limit our vision and keep us focused on the physical realm.
The Hebrew word for Angels is melakhim. That is the same word for messengers. In fact, the Angels are the faithful messengers of the Almighty. Doing His bidding, the melakhim are dispatched by the Master. They frequent both universes as they rush to complete His will. As the Angels forever carry messages, they are true, devoted and loyal servants of God.
One day each year we draw proximate to the border of the rakia. Our soul becomes elevated. One day each year we closely resemble the inhabitants of the upper reaches. It is our great opportunity to cross the firmament. Yom Kippur. The great day of awe.
The Me’am Loez quotes the Angels on high as lauding the Jewish people on Yom Kippur. The Angel looks out over the sea of people garbed in white, their tallitiot (prayer shawls) draped over their shoulders crying out for forgiveness and mercy. “On this Day humanity is not far removed from the angelic beings,” an Angel begins.
“Just as we Angels pay no heed to our dress, wear no shoes, so too, Israel on this day stands before You in like manner.”
“Just as the Angels do not eat or drink so the people of Israel neither eat nor drink.”
“Just as the Angels wait upon the Lord and do not sit so Israel does not sit and remains attentive throughout the long day.”
“Just as there is no squabbling between Angels so there is peace among Your people.”
“Just as Angels are free of sin so Israel is clean of all sin today.”6

On this Day of Atonement the counsel of the Angels is validated. God asked them for their advice at the inception of the universe. “Come let us make man in our image, after our likeness,” He uttered to His Ministering Angels. When we come before God contrite, trembling, hungry and in need of forgiveness we rise to a grand level of holiness. “Little lower than Angels.”




1Genesis 1:26
2 Hagiga 15a
3 Ecclesiastes 7:14
4 Genesis 2:21
5 Hagiga Ibid
6 Aharay Mot

Rosh Hashanna, a primer

RELIGIOUS LITERACY ROSH HASHANA
We Celebrate the World's Birthday

Wednesday, Sep 12, 2007
By JONATHAN CASE
TIMES-DISPATCH COLUMNIST

The teacher was standing at the front of the room. He asked, "Does anyone know why we celebrate birthdays?' No one answered. It seemed too simple and must therefore be a trick question. An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room.

Gazing around at the averted eyes the teacher went on. "We celebrate your birth date to show that the world changed for the better on the day you were born. That is a reason to celebrate! The people who love you throw a party once a year just to show how much richer their lives are because you are in them."

For Jews, Rosh Hashana is a birthday, of a sort. It celebrates the emergence of the universe. Tonight is the anniversary of that birthday. One of the oldest prayers that Jews recite as the Holy Day begins, "Today is the birthday of the world!" Like any other birthday party, this one celebrates the anniversary of the Artist having completed the canvas.

One of the traditions of Judaism is that we eat apples dipped in honey and often hallah dipped in sugar on Rosh Hashana. This is the "cake" of the party. We eat these foods as a celebration of the Earth while thanking God for the sweetness that inheres in the world and in our life.

THERE IS more, however, as the prayer continues, "On this day every creature of the universe awaits judgment." Rosh Hashana is also a time when the Artist reviews His work and closely examines it for imperfections, discoloration, and deterioration. Peering at every living being, God makes a determination whether His creations are responsible stewards or reckless destroyers. The evidence is scrutinized. Judgment is made.

A medieval scholar pondered, "Why does the Bible bother to tell the story of creation?" After all, the first chapters of Genesis do not reveal anything meaningful about the role and task of humans in the universe. It does not tell us much about God either. All Genesis really tells is a rather frugal, hard-to-follow narrative about the formation of the cosmos culminating in the creation of life on Earth. "Would it not have been a much better story if we skipped to, say, Exodus?"

"Yes," they answer. But then we would miss a subtle and critical point: We would overlook the gestation process and, more important, the ultimate goal of creation. Humanity is the pinnacle of all the Master's actions. The final achievement of God, man and woman were endowed with qualities that the psalmist later labeled "little lower than angels."

In fact, in one ancient source, God asked His ministering angels how they thought He should infuse His breath into the primordial man. Finally, God decided to blow His animating "breath of life" into the nostrils of the nascent being. The act is deliberate and powerful. This man now has a soul, a part of God, placed into him. With that act came responsibility. We are not mindless creations. We have a conscience that takes direction from our soul. That is why once a year the Holy One comes to examine us. He evaluates what we have done with our gift.

If all our actions were to be placed on two sides of a balance, which side would be heavier? Have we given or caused more evil than good? Have we become purveyors of lies or have we trafficked in honesty? Have we wreaked havoc upon God's canvas by destroying large swaths of our garden? Or have we tilled and nurtured the soil? Have we made our Father in heaven proud? Or ashamed? The Master looks at the evidence and makes a determination.

FOR MILLENNIA Jews have passed before God, coming to synagogues in droves for the Holy Days. Knowing that we stand before God with our deeds splayed before the Master, we also judge ourselves. If, after fiercely and bravely looking at ourselves, we do not like what we see it is time to (1) throw ourselves on God's mercy and (2) make a vow to change our behavior.

With all the introspection, Rosh Hashana is also a festival celebrating our universe. The tone of the service is at once serious and joyful. The ram's horn is sounded to bring our soul closer to God. Exchanges from people we have not seen in a year are full of love and goodness. We wish one another a "good and sweet New Year" and, at the same time, look around for the faces that were here last year but are no longer in the land of the living.

The ultimate goal of Rosh Hashana is wishing God a happy new year and behaving in such a way that will make Him proud of His children. God then rejoices.
Rabbi Jonathan Case is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Atid in Richmond.

The Journey

A journey cannot be aimless. That is merely blind wandering. We journey towards a destination. We must first therefore know where we are going. David, the Psalmist, asked "Where is the Place of His glory?" David was not simply wondering where He was. He wanted to find the Place where God could be found. He therefore had a goal, a destination. With that destination in mind, he began his journey.

All journeys commence with the same question, 'Where am I going?' If we would not leave home without a map when going on a long trip, why would we begin life's most critical journey without a focus?

In Genesis 12, Abraham is told by God to undertake a journey that would at once sever his boyhood roots and all that was familiar. The journey would bring him to a new promise. Upon arrival, after a very long and dangerous journey, the Holy Writ tells us, “He built there an altar to God Who appeared to him.”

For Father Abraham, the journey was understood. He listened and responded. The joy of his arrival, though, was not missed. He knew that the destination was just the first stop on the road of personal development. Some people, when they finally get to their destination, there is only sadness because the adventure has ended. For Abraham, the overwhelming joy of having meted out the Will of God caused him to rejoice by building a place to thank Him.

We learn: Not only is it necessary to have a destination but we also rejoice in undertaking it for the sake of God.

I am me

Thoughts of Ellul....

Two things cannot occupy the same space. In the same way two disparate notions cannot exist within the mind at the same time. For example, it is not possible to be both joyful and depressed at once. You cannot harbor feelings of inadequacy while feeling empowered. You cannot be strong and weak in the same moment.
Idea: We can exert control over how we feel and present ourselves to the world if we are conscious in searching out God and accessing our highest self.
A prayer to begin moving our self towards strength:
"The life You have given me is exquisite in detail. I am an integral part of the endless tapestry of life. I can focus and deliberate on the wondrous gifts You have given. I can taste the food with all its delights; I can roll In grass and meander through the hills; I have the ability to gasp in wonder at the flight of a single insect which is also part of this universal weave; the many parts of my self work in tandem because of Your breath, dear God. I am born of love."