How do we say Shana Tova this year? First night Rosh Hashana Sermon
Shanah Tovah,
This Rosh Hashanah, it seems like the simple wish for a
"good year," a shanah tovah, feels more complicated? I wonder if
anyone else feels the same. At first, it was very hard for me to say it because
I realized that when we said Shanah Tovah last year around this time, I don't think
we could have imagined everything that would unfold in the year ahead.
Now, I know some of you are saying to yourselves,
"Rabbi, you’re overthinking it. It’s just a greeting. It’s just
words." And you are right. The main point of saying these things is to get
a response back, a smile from a friend or a stranger, a nod from a neighbor, a
human connection because we share a bond. It’s to offer your best wishes, a
blessing that we say to each other because, while we cannot control what
happens, it can't hurt to send someone good vibes and let them know you care. But
I think taking extra notice of even these casual blessings, like little prayers
we say to each other, reminds us of an important lesson, that when we come
together to pray, we come to prayer together for ourselves but also for each
other. It’s part of building a warm spiritual community.
Still, even as we share these greetings, it's impossible not
to reflect on how much has happened since last Rosh Hashanah. When we said
'Shanah Tovah' last year, I don’t know if any of imagined
…that the Jewish people would endure the worst single attack
since the Holocaust,
...that we would spend the entire year praying for the safe
return of hundreds of hostages
... we would witness such largescale loss of innocent lives amidst
widening fears for the region,
…or the sharp rise in antisemitic incidents and hate crimes
... or the deepening internal divisions over Israel in the
Jewish community
… or the news of constant evacuations
… or the violence by extremists within our own ranks,
... all of that in addition to losses closer to home. That
last year, the Hudson community still had Rabbi Fried, of blessed memory, whose
leadership and presence we deeply miss today.
There is no one size fits all answer to this question, but I
think we can look to tradition to gain insight in the way people talk about
good fortune and bad fortune.
The first story I want to share is from China originally and
isn’t a Jewish one, although there are Jewish sources that have similar
messages, but I think it beautifully captures one way that people across
cultures have tried to make sense of life’s ups and downs.
There was once a farmer who lived in a small village, and
one day, his horse ran away. The villagers came to offer their sympathy,
saying, “What bad luck!” The old man simply replied, “We’ll see.”
A few days later, the horse returned, bringing with it
several wild horses. The villagers were amazed and said, “What good fortune!”
The old man again replied, “We’ll see.”
Soon after, the old man’s son tried to ride one of the wild
horses, but he was thrown off and broke his leg. The villagers came to express
their sorrow, saying, “What bad luck!” The old man calmly responded, “We’ll
see.”
Not long after, the army came through the village to
conscript all the able-bodied young men to fight in a war. The old man’s son
was spared because of his injury. The villagers exclaimed, “What good fortune!”
The old man, as always, simply said, “We’ll see.”
There’s definitely a lot of truth to this story—life is
unpredictable and things change constantly. Sometimes we need patience and perspective
when we label things as either good or bad.
But when I think about everything we’ve gone through this
past year, this approach doesn’t feel satisfying. It’s simply not enough to
just say, “We’ll see” in the face of severe tragedy.
Our tradition offers other approaches. For example, our
sages taught that there was once a famous rabbi named Nachum Ish Gamzu.
According to our sages, Nachum was called "Ish Gamzu," “a man of
Gamzu,” because he would always say "Gam zu l'tovah" which means "This
too is for the good."
The story goes that Nachum was once sent by the Jewish
community to present a chest filled with precious jewels to the Roman emperor.
Along the way, he stopped at an inn, and while he slept, the innkeeper secretly
emptied the chest of its jewels and replaced them with ordinary dirt so it
would weigh the same and he wouldn’t notice.
When Nachum arrived at the emperor's palace and presented
the chest, the emperor opened it and became furious to find it full of dirt.
His advisors said he should execute poor Nachum for insulting the emperor. But Nachum
only responded, "Gam zu l’tovah"—“This too is for the good."
Now, the sages had a legend that Abraham was able to defeat
four mighty kings and rescue his nephew Lot because he had this miracle dirt, that
like a superpower, would turn into arrows when thrown. So, at that moment, the
prophet Elijah appeared, (he doesn’t only go to seders and brisses) disguised
as one of the emperor's advisors and suggested that maybe this is that same
kind of dirt. The emperor decides to test this theory in a battle against. The
dirt miraculously turned into arrows, leading the Romans to victory. The
emperor, overjoyed, rewards Nachum with great riches and sends him back to his
community in honor.
There’s also some truth in this story too. Hope is
essential, and there’s power in staying positive, even in tough situations.
Nachum’s belief that “this too is for the good” reminds us that sometimes, a
positive outlook can lead to unexpected good. It doesn’t mean everything will
always turn out miraculously well, but it does show the strength that can come
from holding onto hope.
Still, this approach can similarly leave us wanting. How can
we say everything is ultimately for the good, in the face of overwhelming
tragedy? Not everything can be explained as part of God’s plab.
A better fit for us might be the words of Kohelet, in the
Bible, who said that there is, “A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to
mourn and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3:4)
This verse from Kohelet argues that we should cry and mourn
when bad things happen, and laugh and dance when good things happen. It’s a
simple acknowledgment that life brings both joy and sorrow, and each response
is natural and appropriate to its time. It reminds us that taking it one day at
a time, crossing each bridge when we get to it, is sometimes exactly what we
need and the only thing we can do.
But what then do we mean when wishing someone a shanah tovah?
We can’t just hope that people will only have reasons to celebrate, not this
year. Because, even if everything improves tomorrow and the best outcomes we
can imagine occur here and around the world, the world has changed. We will still
need time to cry, to mourn, and to reflect on the tragedies we are witnessing.
The three perspectives offered in each of these traditions,
the lessons of the old farmer, of Nachum Ish Gamzu and Kohelet, are valuable at
different moments of life. And, I said at the beginning there isn’t a one size
fits all answer to our question. But I will offer as an example my own
interpretation and you are welcome to take what works for you and leave behind
what doesn’t.
When I wish you a shanah tova, whether I just say shanah
tovah or I offer you the full phrase"—"May you be inscribed and
sealed for a good year"— this is what it means to me.
L’shanah tovah - May you be inscribed and sealed for a year
where you have no new reasons to mourn or cry and many new reasons to laugh and
celebrate each and every day.
L’shana tovah - May you have the perspective and the
patience ,when you need them, so that you can celebrate despite the circumstances
this past year has left to us.
L’shana Tovah - May you have hope and faith when you need them
to look at the world around you and see that there are still many reasons to
celebrate, people to celebrate, and blessings that surround us.
L’shanah Tovah - May you find the healing, the comfort and
the strength you need to enjoy everything good this upcoming year will give you.
May you be inscribed and sealed for the good things that you
want and need, to live a good life each and every day of the year, both in your
personal lives and in this sacred community here in Hudson.
Finally, may we all see the return of all hostages, and an end
to the wars, the terror, and the destruction, the hate, the extremism and the
violence that has plagued us and instead see a world of promise, a world of
life, love and care. A good world. L’shana tovah tikatevu vitehatemu.
Rabbi Dave Almog
Congregation Anshe Emeth
Rosh Hashanah Oct. 2, 2024
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