Rosh Hashanah Welcoming Tishrei
Dear Hebrew College community,
At sundown this coming Monday evening—as we light the candles of Rosh Hashanah—we will enter the Hebrew month of Tishrei and walk through the gateway into a new year.
This year, more than most, I have been wondering how we might orient ourselves to that gateway, to a moment that holds so much—memory and tenderness, sorrow and fear, yearning and possibility. For many of us this year, the weight of this moment for our people feels almost crushing—the gateway crowded and cluttered with the debris of collective grief, guilt, and mutual recriminations. How do we begin to pass through?
How do we keep walking—alone and together—through the gateway of this new year?
Perhaps the language of the Torah portion for this Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah—Parashat Nitzavim—can offer us an opening.
Nitzavim comes from the Hebrew root meaning to stand. The opening verses of our portion begin: “You stand (atem nitzavim) this day, all of you, before the Lord your God.”
This covenantal moment—in which every member of the community is included (past, present, and future)—introduces what is known as Parashat Hateshuvah, a chapter describing the collective repentance and return of the Israelite people to God. The biblical context is communal, though I think it suggests a powerful point of departure for our personal process of teshuvah as well.
“You stand today, all of you, before Adonai your God.”
The word kulchem—all of you—is significant, and not at all superfluous. It calls out to each of us, addressing our unspoken fears. “Yes!” It says, “You belong here.”
Whether you feel beloved or betrayed, whether you feel at the center of the community or at its margins, we all stand here together. Each of us and all of us—in our endless complexity and interconnection.
Whether you feel beloved or betrayed, whether you feel at the center of the community or at its margins, we all stand here together. Each of us and all of us—in our endless complexity and interconnection.
What about the word for “standing” itself? It too teaches us something important. The Hebrew word is not omdim, but nitzavim—from the root meaning stable, firm, fixed in place. There is nothing casual or tentative about this posture. Teshuvah beings with the act of standing still—very still—in the presence of God and community. We stand fully present and firmly planted in these relationships—not hiding, or preparing to flee.
But—and this is a big but—the word nitzav also contains a cautionary note. A human being has to be careful not to become too fixed in one place. It is one thing to stand still; it is another to stop moving altogether. The word nitzavcarries echoes of the story of the destruction of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, when Lot and his wife are told to flee. They are specifically instructed “not to look back or stop anywhere in the Plain.” Lot’s wife turns back, and is paralyzed—transformed into a netziv melach, a pillar of salt (from the same Hebrew root). She is still “standing”—but no longer present. Frozen in her grief for all that has been lost, she becomes nothing but salt— the residue of tears. She is a pillar of dry tears, without the water that allows sadness to flow through us; that allows us to continue to move—even through grief and loss—to renewed life.
While the moment of nitzavim—of standing still in the presence of One who sees and cares about us all—is vital, the real story of teshuvah is where we go from there. It is about movement and growth, the unceasing process of becoming, for as long as we are alive.
While the moment of nitzavim—of standing still in the presence of One who sees and cares about us all—is vital, the real story of teshuvah is where we go from there. It is about movement and growth, the unceasing process of becoming, for as long as we are alive.
Perhaps this is the significance of the juxtaposition of Parashat Nitzavim and Parashat Vayelech—two portions that are often linked and read as a double portion, but this year arrive separately, on the Shabbatot immediately before and after Rosh Hashanah, bracketing the holiday. Vayelech literally means, “He went” or “He walked”–translating poetically, I would invite us to think of these two portions as summoning us: “Stand still and keep walking!”
The Hasidic master, the Pri Tzaddik, picks up on the theme of walking in his commentary on Vayelech. He teaches: “All the days of his life, a person is called a ‘walker’. This is the difference between an angel and a human being . . . An angel is called a ‘stander’, because an angel always stands still on just one level. But a human being is not like this . . . A person always has to be walking, always striving to grow and to ascend from rung to rung—until he reaches his eternal resting place.”
As we stand here, facing the gates of the new year, and the bracing call of these two parshiyot—to stand still and keep walking—the following verses near the very end of Parashat Nitzavim can offer us comfort and strength.
“Surely this Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?’ No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.”
Most commentators understand these verses to refer to all of Torah, but Nachmanides reads them as specifically referring to the mitzvah of teshuvah. Hearing them this way, the poetry of the text became unexpectedly tender to me, a gentle voice beckoning us toward the work of teshuvah that lies ahead, inviting us to take the risk of admitting our longings for each other and for God, our longing to become better people.
So I offer these verses, loosely translated, to all of us as an intention and invitation for this season.
Ki hamitzvah hazot asher anochi metzavcha hayom lo niflet hi mimcha, v’lo rechoka hi.
This mitzvah that I am giving you
is within your reach.
Don’t worry if you are baffled and confused
Keep your questions and doubts close to you.
They will help guide you.
Lo bashamayim hi lemor mi ya’aleh lanu hashamayma v’yikacheha lanu.
I am not talking about heaven here.
This is not about being perfect.
You are not an angel, nebuch,
You are a walker on this earth.
V’lo me’ever layam hi lemor mi ya’avor lanu el ever hayam.
Stop looking over there!
You don’t need to be somewhere else.
You don’t need to be someone else.
And no one else can tell you exactly how to do this.
Ki karov elecha hadavar me’od.
No, this thing is very close to you.
It is already inside you.
B’ficha.
It is in your mouth.
Think about the words you already know you need to say
And to whom.
Bilvavcha.
And in your heart.
Pay attention to what is in your heart.
Who do you love and what is precious to you?
La’asoto.
What is it you need to do?
You may not know exactly where you are going but you probably know where to begin.
As we enter the gateway of this year—together and alone— may we stand still long enough to remember what we already know, and may we continue to walk and grow toward all that we don’t yet understand.
Let the new year and its blessings begin.
Shana tova umetukah,
Rabbi Sharon
Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld is President of Hebrew College in Newton, MA.
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