A New Year's Day Fast

For the first time in recent memory, the minor fast day of the Tenth of Tevet coincided this year with the first day of the new solar year, yielding an arguably odd integration of the secular and religious. This curious combination draws a few observations into stark relief.

While Judaism marks its new year, Rosh Hashanah, as a joyous celebration, one where families gather for prayer and meals and reflect on our hopes for the year to come, it is surely also a solemn time. Rosh Hashanah demarcates the beginning of the Ten Days of Penitence, the period of reflection and introspection leading to Yom Kippur. The former is clearly an introduction to the latter, a day on which we afflict our souls with the hope of achieving spiritual cleansing, when we appeal to the Qadosh Barukh Hu for another chance, for an opportunity to move forward with a clean slate even though we are not worthy.

Compare that with our modern conception of January 1st. How do Americans mark this transition? By celebrating with no higher goal than partying with abandon. Yes, there may be some who make resolutions for self-improvement, but one must wonder how deeply these resolutions penetrate the soul of the resolved.

Meanwhile the Tenth of Tevet, one of a handful of minor fast days sprinkled through the Jewish calendar, commemorates the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem at the hands of the Babylonian empire in 587 BCE. Nineteen months later, Nebuchadnezzar’s forces destroyed the First Temple, laid waste to the rest of the city, and exiled the Israelites to Babylon (today Iraq). But we live in a world with a Jewish state in the traditional land of Israel, a much-rebuilt Jerusalem under Jewish and democratic sovereignty. There are those that say that we ought to dispense with fasts related to Jerusalem laid waste; we are no longer lamenting like Jeremiah, or yearning like our ancestors did for 2,000 years. The flip side of the Tenth of Tevet, the Seventeenth of Tammuz, and the Ninth of Av is Hatikvah, the national anthem of the State of Israel.

And so, on this particular fast day, we may recall the opportunity for a second chance that the Jewish New Year promises, an added foil to the debauchery engendered by the secular new year. As we look toward Tu Bishvat and Pesah, which the Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 1:1) identifies as two of the four Jewish new year dates, we remember that we do not live from party to party, but from milestone to milestone and season to season as we continue to rebuild.

Why Is This New Year Different From All Other New Years? - Tuesday Kavvanah, 3/27/2012

On Shabbat afternoon at minhah / the afternoon service, I had just concluded my private recitation of the Amidah when I looked over my shoulder and noticed the tree outside the chapel in full spring bloom.  Having just passed one of the four New Years of the Jewish year — the Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 1:1) calls the first day of Nisan, the first month of the Jewish calendar, "Rosh Hashanah limlakhim velirgalim," the New Year for kings and festivals* — I am reminded that this is the more sensible choice for the beginning of the year.  Spring is the time of renewal: cleansing rain, cheery flowers, the scents of wet sod and decaying leaves.

There is a berakhah / blessing to be recited upon seeing trees in bloom for the first time in the spring:

ברוך אתה יי אלהינו מלך העולם, שלא חסר בעולמו דבר, וברא בו בריות טובות ואילנות טובים להנות בהם בני אדם

Barukh attah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, shelo hissar be'olamo davar, uvara vo beriyot tovot ve'ilanot tovim lehanot bahem benei adam.
Praised are You, Adonai, our God, who rules the universe, which lacks nothing; for God created fine creatures and pleasant trees in order that humans might enjoy them.

As we recited this berakhah together, my thoughts returned to the coming festival.  Pesah is heralded by the Earth's return to life, like the royal trumpets that would have been sounded long ago at this time.  The trees explode in colorful harmony, and a new year has begun.  Happy spring!


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson



* So called because for Jewish kings, the next year of their reign always begins on Nisan 1, even if they ascended to the throne a day earlier, and it is also the deadline for fulfilling a vow to bring a dedicated item to the Temple in Jerusalem.  Neither reason is applicable today, of course; there has been no functioning Temple since 70 CE, when the second one was destroyed by the Romans, and there has not been an Israelite king for nearly 2600 years.

Elul 15: New Year of the Soul

While the secular New Year falls in the middle of winter (well, in the Northern Hemisphere anyway), when the earth resets itself, the Jewish New Year comes in the fall, just before the traditional harvest time. People come home from summer vacations, school starts up again, and wham! We're hit with the Ten Days of Repentance. Perfect timing, I think.

Now is the time, as we are preparing for what most of us think of as "the year," that we need introspective moments. Vacation is over, and it's back to the grindstone; what better time to take stock, to engage in heshbon ha-nefesh (accounting of the soul), to examine our relationships. The next big vacation is ten months from now, and from this point to that will be a blur of activity. Better to enter it with some deep, probing consideration.

January 1 may be a new year of the Earth, but Rosh Hashanah is more a New Year of the soul.

Elul 3: Teshuvah inventory questions

For the purposes of introspection, here is a list of ten questions that we might consider for the next four weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah:

In the past year, have I...

... taken care of the people around me enough?

... sought reconciliation with loved ones whom I have struggled with?

... improved my connections with others?

... tried to focus on personal behaviors that I would like to change?

... sought humility?

... evaluated how my actions affect others?

... volunteered my time for the betterment of society or the environment?

... mistreated anybody, deliberately or not?

... not fulfilled promises?

... considered ways to improve this world, and taken appropriate action?


Writing this has given me plenty to think about! Feel free to add your own introspective questions in the comments below.

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This is the fourth in a series of thoughts for Elul. Here are the three previous ones:

Rosh Hodesh Elul: What's more important than electricity?

Elul 1: Resonances of the Shofar

Elul 2: The Spaces In-Between

Follow these and many other daily posts on Twitter with the hashtag #BlogElul.

Rosh Hodesh Elul: What's more important than electricity?

The first day is sort of fun: flashlights, candles, ice cubes. The second day is mildly annoying: trying to eat stuff in the fridge that isn't going to last, worrying about charging the cell phone. The third day is downright frustrating: OK, so I really need to check my email and work on my sermon, not to mention the eulogy I have to write for tomorrow's funeral. OK, so I'm not a coffee drinker, but here I am with a latte in hand at a major chain outlet. A congregant offered me a seat at his table, so I'm thankful for that, and hopeful that the lights will come on before dinnertime.

As we usher in the month of Elul, I am mindful of the fact that not only are many people in my community without power, but also, if the people at NPR are to be believed, somewhat near 5 million people all up and down the Eastern seaboard. Given that Elul is the time to start taking stock of our souls in preparation for Rosh Hashanah and particularly Yom Kippur, I am reminded about what are the important things. And let's face it: wi-fi is not an essential. Even without a refrigerator, life goes on. But connections with people - family, friends, neighbors, colleagues - we cannot live without those.

Sometimes it is a radical change that helps us to understand who we are. Reflecting back on my remarks following last week's minor earthquake (already a distant memory, no?), being shaken up is occasionally good for the soul. Especially during Elul. As such, it is a perfect time to be without power for a few days.

I have (somewhat loosely) committed myself to Rabbi Phyllis Sommer's Twitter/blog-based project called "Blog Elul," and as such will try to post a little something each day to nudge the introspective process leading to the High Holy Days in a month. Tomorrow is Elul 1, when we begin sounding the shofar, summoning forth all of the reflective sounds of the New Year; let the blogging begin (and let's hope I get my electricity back soon).

Friday Morning Kavvanah, 12/31/2010 - Teshuvah in January?

This being New Year's Eve (which, ironically enough, is called "Silvester" in Israel, named for Pope Silvester, who died on Dec. 31, 335 CE), I will surely be wished a "happy new year" several times today. I don't mind the good wishes, but I often have to stop myself from reminding my co-religionists that 5771 began nearly four months ago, and all of the cleansing and repenting that comes with the passing of the Jewish year has long since faded from my short-term memory.

On the other hand, Judaism has four new years, so defined in the opening Mishnah of tractate Rosh Hashanah: the first of Nisan (the beginning of the cycle of months), the first of Elul (the date upon which the annual cycle of tithing animals begins), the first of Tishri (Rosh Hashanah), and the fifteenth of Shevat (Tu Bishvat, the official birthday of the trees). What would be so bad about reconsidering the teshuvah (repentance) that we performed in Tishri on January 1 as well?

The problem is, of course, that the wider society does not celebrate the new secular year in a way that encourages teshuvah - quite the contrary.

In any case, as Dec. 31 is a Friday, I'll be in synagogue for Shabbat, and schluffing (sleeping) up a storm by the time midnight rolls around.