A sermon by Rabbi Gary M. Bretton-Granatoor
Congregation Shirat HaYam, Nantucket
Erev Rosh HaShana 5785
HaYom Harat Olam — Today is the birthday of the world – actually, today the world was conceived.
There is a discussion in the Talmud about blowing the shofar during the Jubilee year, and Rav Shmuel bar Yitzchak, asks, “In accordance with whose opinion do we pray today on Rosh Hashanah, saying: Zeh hayom t’khilat ma-asekha, zikhron l’yom rishon, ‘This day is the beginning of Your works, a commemoration of the first day?’” And the reply is, “In accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Eliezer, who said: ba tishrei nivrah ha olam, ‘The world was created in the month of Tishrei.’ We therefore mention on Rosh Hashanah, that it is the first day.” (Rabbi Susan Elkodsi)
Conception is the beginning of a hopeful process that leads to birth. And throughout the days of creation, God begins with a wind of God blowing over the primordial waters, v’ruach Elohim mirachefet al pnei tahom”. Then the world is pregnant with possibilities – God separates waters from dry land, God separates Light from Dark. God called upon the world itself to give birth to living creatures and vegetation. On the 4th day God said, t’dasheh ha-aretz desheh, essev, mazriah zerah. “Let the earth sprout vegetation, trees, and seed-bearing plants.” On the fifth day, God said, yishr’tzu hamayim sheretz nefesh chayah, “Let the waters multiply swarming living beings. And on Day 6, totzei ha-aretz nefesh chayah, “Let the earth send out living beings.” Then, consulting the heavenly hosts, God set out to create humanity – which is animated with the breath of life. Then God puts humanity in charge of the world and makes humanity responsible for its upkeep—going so far as telling humanity to name all the elements of creation. And throughout the process, God evaluates, “V’hinei tov.”
So, God creates, distinguishes, names, and assesses. In like manner, we, the stewards of the world, are charged to create (procreate), discern right from wrong, name (give meaning to life) and assess the work of our hands.
October 7 turned that all upside down. Everything we, as Jews, counted on, was thrown into flux. We believed that the State of Israel would be able to keep its borders safe. We believed that our amassed strength would be able to vanquish quickly any enemy. We believed that we, and the greater world, could easily distinguish good from evil. We believed that academic institutions and social justice agencies would cry out against the wholesale slaughter of innocents dancing at a festival or working the fields. We believed that we could conquer the world’s oldest hatred: antisemitism. We believed that Jews would never again become the prey of haters. We believed that we would do anything to rescue those held hostage. We believed in the world’s greatest democracies would pursue justice at all costs.
In the days and months that followed October 7, we feel unmoored, confused, dejected. Our hopes and feelings are frayed.
When Adam and Eve were at their lowest (after they were banished from Gan Eden), it says that God gave them clothing. Rabbi Meir describes this as an act of Chesed – lovingkindness. They may have already covered themselves in leaves, but God gives them clothing at their most vulnerable point. In the midrash (Yalkut Shemoni 34), instead of describing the clothing as Or (spelled with an ayin – as in leather) the midrash spells the word with an alef, as in Light. God gave them clothing of light. God gave them hope.
Rabbi David Wolpe considered the question: “How does the prophet respond when the people are suffering?” (in his commentary on Parasha Ki Teizeh published by ADL) He answers:
Isaiah says, speaking in God’s name: “For a moment I hid My face from you, and with everlasting kindness will I have compassion on you (Isaiah 54:8).” Our hearts remain burdened with grief for the hostages who were murdered and one of the places we turn for understanding is to our ancestors, who again and again endured the pain of persecution and loss. So how did the sages who came before us, who also suffered unimaginable losses, understand this verse? {Looking} at the commentaries {there is} a recurrent theme. In every generation, from rabbinic times until today, commentators acknowledge the pain expressed by the first half of the verse. For a moment, God is – or at least feels – absent, and in that dark void the most terrible things befall us. Where was God in the camps or in the tunnels? There is no fully adequate response. Sometimes we ask these questions not to elicit answers, but to express anguish. Yet those same commentators turn to the second half of the verse and affirm it as well. Yes, the pain is real, but so is the promise. We will always feel the loss. That loss will also permit us to understand things that move us forward: As Rabbi Johanan points out in the midrash, our eye has a light part and a dark part, but we can only see through the dark part (Midrash Tanchuma, Tetzaveh 6:6). In failure, loss and grief, in God’s hiding, we often see more clearly; we glimpse our deepest concerns and most fervent loves.
Considering our trauma, we stand on the cusp of a new year. Can we use this as an opportunity to return to the charge that the conception of the world offers? As God created, distinguished, named, and assessed – can we follow suit and make something of the year that is being conceived at this very moment.
We create – We are reminded that we were created b’etzem u’v’tzelem Elohim – in the likeness and image of God. And that God is a God who creates. So, we are creators. We are charged to build and care for our families and plan for the future. We create community – building and strengthening the people we care for and about. We create opportunity – supporting those who need our assistance and guidance. We create hope by building a meaningful future.
We distinguish – through our discernment and our critical thinking, we distinguish between evil and good, just and unjust, fair and unfair, hopeful and hopeless, meaning and vacuity. We look around and seek opportunities to lift up those things, those projects, those needs, that will bring greater good into our world. We value our time and use that time wisely rather than in pursuit of vain or venal ends.
We name – In the Bible, to know one’s name was to know that person or thing’s essence. Adam and Eve were given the opportunity to name all the earth’s inhabitants. We, too, can give names to things that reveal their qualities. When we name our children, we often use names of those who have gone before us or inspired us – in the hopes that this new child will inherit and embrace the qualities of the person whose name they take on. But we can also name the evil around us. And by doing so, we can call it out far and wide. But we also name ourselves as we learn in Midrash Kohelet Rabba, which teaches, “A person has three names: one that is given by one’s parents, one given by one’s community, and one that is acquired by one’s own actions and impact.” How are we known in the world? What are we named?
We assess – It is not enough to be in action all the time. At the end of each day of Creation, the Holy One stopped and assessed – and then pronounced a verdict: “V’hinei tov” or “V’hinei tov ma’od” (‘it is good’ or ‘it is very good’). These Aseret Yamai Teshuva – Ten Days of Repentance – are part of the assessment process. We look back on the past year to evaluate the effectiveness of our actions, the strength of our convictions, the kindness and generosity of our spirits. What are the verdicts we render for ourselves. And through the assessment process, how do we reset our priorities, our behaviors, our judgement, our effectiveness, our value, our worth.
But there is another aspect to the notion of God birthing the world on this day. Like all expectant parents there is a mixture of hope and fear as one begins the journey into parenthood. We hope that our children will experience the wonders of the world, live up to or exceed their potential, realize their hopes and dreams (and ours). But we also fear. We fear the pain they may experience, or even inflict on others. We fear for their safety, their health, their wellbeing, their future. On this day, God too experiences hope and fear. Hope that we, God’s children, will live up to or exceed our potential, will finally follow the path that God has planned for us. Hope that we can bring about the peace that we are charged to make real. And God fears, witnessing the pain that we have experienced, and we have inflicted. And just like the joys we experienced when the seas parted and our people escaped Phaorah’s grasp, God saw the Egyptians, also God’s children, perish in the sea. And God sent Jonah to prevent the Ninevites from descending into sin and destruction. And God must weep at all the young lives lost in the conflagrations in Gaza, Ukraine, and….
A year has come and gone since our world was turned upside down. A new year waits to come into being – about to explode forth into endless possibilities. We are the architects of what is to be — and while we cannot predict what good or evil may yet befall us, we can prepare ourselves to move our reactions and responses in new and hopeful ways. And like God, we create, we distinguish, we name, we assess. And God? God waits….
Shana Tova u’Metuka!
(Grateful to Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, Rabbi Susan Elkodsi, Rabbi Gordon Tucker, and members of the NYBR for discussion)