I wanted to explore a way of thinking about Rosh Hashanah that occurred to me. I think Rosh Hashanah is the start of a journey – but not a conventional one.
We had a conventional journey 6 months ago, with Pesach. On Pesach, the people had to physically get up and go. It was kind of a national Lech Lecha, mirroring Avraham’s journey to the land that Hashem showed him. We Jews often have to get up and go.
Judaism is a religion about journeys: Lech Lecha, Hagar with Ishmael, Yaakov coming and going to Lavan’s house, the national Pesach, traveling in the Midbar, and entering the Land. All of these involve conventional travel.
But there are journeys that are not geographical.
Consider, for example, that the first chapter of Bereishis describes the world as it was physically created. And then the second chapter, which seems to have inconsistencies and duplications of the events of the first chapter, is actually describing the world’s spiritual creation.
Pesach was a national physical journey, where we got up and started walking. But Rosh Hashanah is different, because it is not a physical journey. Our bodies are not going anywhere.
No. On Rosh Hashanah we begin a spiritual journey. The Jewish New Year is not an anniversary of when the world was created, but instead, like the second chapter of Bereishis, its spiritual birth. That is the version where mankind is created from the mixture of dirt and a divine spark.
That spark is the elusive quality, the essential piece of each of us that makes us capable of being more than animals, of connecting to Hashem and to the souls of each other. That spark, on loan from G-d, is what makes mankind capable of spiritual existence and connection.
Think about a major trip that you have undertaken. A real journey needs to be broken down into its primary steps. First, we figure out that we need to travel. Then we agree on the direction of travel. Then we decide what we are bringing with us, and what we are leaving behind. And then we commence the journey, taking the plunge into the unknown, trusting that we are doing the right thing, for the right reasons, and under the right protection.
We started with Selichos: the realization that we need to travel. And now we are in Rosh Hashanah, where we get our bearings, orient ourselves, and figure out, as any classic traveler did, where the North Star is.
Today is when we start planning this spiritual journey, the journey of the upcoming year. This is not the day in which we concern ourselves with what we are bringing with us, and what we are leaving behind – we do that during the 10 days of teshuvah and on Yom Kippur. And Sukkos is further beyond that point – recreating the spiritual experience of being close to Hashem, as we were in the midbar. By Sukkos we are already on our way, albeit on this spiritual journey.
But today is just the first step in this spiritual journey. Today, we are in the moment: getting our bearings. Orienting ourselves for a connection with HKBH. And that is where our tefilloh needs to be, the kavanah in our hearts.
On Pesach, we have to leave the stuff of Egypt behind – the chometz. We have to clear the decks in order to start being ready to receive the Torah.
On Rosh Hashanah, we do something similar: we have to leave the ideas of the world behind us. Instead, we are to LISTEN. To hear the sound of the Shofar – perhaps as a proxy for hearing the voice of Hashem.
And why do we need to find our bearings? Because over the past year, we have been exposed to all the ideas of the outside world. We have been swimming in the waters of social media and enormous pressures to conform. And that world is immature and generally unthinking.
People don’t step back and ask: what is really going on? What am I trying to achieve, and will this get me there? Instead, we usually seek to know what other people want us to say and act and be and do – and then we follow the herd. This is human nature: most people will change their minds about a topic if they discover that “most people” have a different position.
People are instinctively herd animals.
So it is the Shofar, taken from a ram – a creature that is both curious and headstrong and independent, an animal that arrived on the mountain all alone – that reminds us that we, too, are commanded to spiritually depart from the world around us much like the Jewish people had to physically separate from Egypt. We focus on what matters, and slough off the rest.
Rosh Hashanah is when we try to get out of our heads, and see things from as high a perspective as we can manage. Because the only true North Star is HKBH, and the only true guide is His Torah.
This is a day to reorient, to stop thinking “What will make other people think I am worthy?” and instead ask: “What should I be doing to BE worthy? And especially to be worthy in the eyes of G-d?”
We must consciously internalize the shofar, and understand that the visceral power and message of the horn that reminds us of the Akeidah is meant to open our souls to the divine connection.
And perhaps, because I am a rosy-eyed optimist, we can understand that Judaism is not – and never has been – about having power over others. Instead, the Torah is a guidebook for creating and nurturing holy relationships and personal growth and connection. We absolutely should be positively influencing others, but not seeking to wield power over them.
As you listen to the shofar today, may our spiritual journey for this year find its North Star. May we be able to see from as far outside ourselves as we can manage, so that we can see as clearly as possible.
And may we share many accomplishments and blessings as we seek to strengthen and reinforce our connection to the source of all spirituality, HKBH.
Good Yomtov.