Rosh haShana is Yom haDin, the day of judgment. We explain that on this important day we must perceive the Synagogue as a court of Justice. Aware that when we hear the Shofar the Court goes into session and we recognize HaShem as our King and Supreme Judge. The Almighty examines the records of our behavior during the past year, and he must decide whether or not we deserve a new opportunity.
What remains for us to explain is what should we exactly do while listening to the Shofar and are judged by God?

Asking God for forgiveness?

In the Teshuba process, which formally lasts 10 days, everything has its time. Once Rosh HaShanah is over, we begin an intense period of repentance, reparation, and apologizing to our peers and to God. This period ends on Yom Kippur, “The Day of Forgiveness”.

But on Rosh Hashana, a request for forgiveness would be premature. That day I must concentrate on judging myself before God. Try to see myself NOT as I normally see myself, but as God sees me.

While listening to the Shofar, I have to look in the mirror and admit my mistakes in my heart (מהרהר בתשובה). This first step, essential for the entire Teshuba process, is called hakarat haChet, “admission of my mistakes”. At that moment I take responsibility for my actions and do not escape responsibility. This self-diagnosis is too serious to be taken lightly and is a prerequisite, a condition sine-qua-non for what will come after Rosh Hashanah: confession, repentance, apologizing, resolving to change, etc.

I am going to illustrate what we should do on Rosh haShana while listening to the Shofar.
One of the most important values ​​in Jewish life is chesed, generosity. Let’s take this value as an example of how I should judge myself in front of HaShem. First I must think about what I did right and what I did wrong in this area: Have I dedicated enough of my money, my time, my effort, and my thoughts to helping other people? Was I there when others needed me? When people ask for help, did I ignore them? Perhaps many people who I knew they needed help but did NOT ask for my help, probably out of shame, and I pretended to be distracted? When I found out someone was out of a job, did I do everything I could to help them? When I found out that someone had nowhere to be, did I open the doors of my house for those who needed it? Have I done for others everything that HaShem expected of me? If HaShem was generous with me, and he granted me the means and / or the talents to help, isn’t he expecting me to share what he gave me wth others?

As you can see, thinking about what I’ve done wrong or about what I could have done right, and I did not, is too serious to be overlooked by a simple: “Oh, by the way, God: I’m also sorry about my failures in the area of kindness”.

My mission of Rosh HaShana is to judge myself while God judges me. Trying to see me as He sees me. And the more real my perception of His perception of me is, the less room to deceive myself, the more objective my self-judgment and the more effective my Teshuba will be. And vice versa.

מי אל כמוך נשא עון ועבר על פשע לשארית נחלתו לא החזיק לעד אפו כי חפץ חסד הוא ישוב ירחמנו יכבש עונתינו ושליך במצלות ים כל חטאותם

On the first day of Rosh Hashana in the afternoon (this year, 5784, Rosh Hashana begins on Shabbat, so the Tashlikh is postponed to the second day) it is customary to perform a ceremony called “Tashlikh”. People approach a source of water: the sea, a river, or even a pool with water. There they recite a series of prayers, including reading the text from the prophet Micha, Chapter 7: 18-19 “Who is like You, O God, who forgives sin and ignores the transgressions of his people [Israel]? [Who is like You, O HaShem,] whose anger does not last forever, because you want to forgive us and [every year] you have mercy on us anew. You ignore our sins [when we repent] and cast all our transgressions to the bottom of the sea.”

ABRAHAM ABINU

Tashlikh is a relatively new tradition. It is not mentioned in the Talmud or in the Mishne  Torah of Maimonides or in the Shulchan Arukh of Ribbi Yosef Caro. The Maharil (1365 – 1427) was the first to mention it, Rabbi Ya’akob ben Moshe Levi Moelin, famous for his works recording the customs of Ashkenaz Jews in the Middle Ages. According to the Maharil, the tradition (not called yet “tashlikh”) consists of visiting a river on Rosh Hashana to remember the sacrifice of Yitschaq. The Midrash relates that when Abraham Abinu was going to Mount Moriah to comply with the Divine order, he found a river—which should not have been there—and when he tried to cross it, the water reached his nose… Despite having the best excuse to suspend the sacrifice of Isaac—which was ultimately canceled by Divine command—Abraham crossed the waters and went ahead with God’s command. Visiting the river reminds of Isaac’s sacrifice on Rosh Hashana and the unconditional willpower of Abraham Abinu to fulfill God’s word. And that is why we mention it in the Tefilot of this day many times Isaac’s sacrifice and we ask HaShem to consider the merit of Abraham’s unconditional obedience to judge us, his descendants with benevolence.

THE MYSTIC ASPECT OF TASHLIKH

Over time, and after Rabbenu HaAri HaQadosh praised this custom, the Tashlikh ceremony was adopted by practically all Sephardic communities. However, the meaning of this ritual was modified, focusing more on repentance than on the memory of Isaac’s sacrifice. The Sages of Kabbalah associated visiting the river or the sea with the Pasuk of the prophet Micha, which we mentioned above, where he says that HaShem “will throw all our transgressions to the bottom of the sea.” What does this idea mean? That when we do Teshuba, by sincerely repenting of our sins, God will completely erase our transgressions, “throwing them to the bottom of the sea”, a metaphorical and poetic expression that denotes a total elimination from the records.

THE OPPOSITION

Some famous rabbis, such as the Vilna Gaon or Rabbi Yechiel Epstein, author of the Arukh haShulkhan, opposed the Tashlikh ceremony. And the same was true of many Yemenite Jews—who strictly follow Maimonides—and the Sephardic Jews of the Spanish-Portuguese community in Amsterdam and London. Why did they oppose the Tashlikh? In some cases, like that of the Spanish-Portuguese community, for example, because they left out of the traditional liturgy, that is, of the formal prayers and the prayer book or Siddur, many of the customs come from Kabbalah. Why? Because after what happened with Shabetai Tzevi—the false Messiah who abused Kabbalah and presented it as superstition to give credibility to his false claims—they decided not to allow exposure of mystical ideas to the public, lest they be misinterpreted by the less informed people.

HOW NOT TO MAKE TESHUBA?

I believe that in the case of the Tashlikh, those fears were not unfounded! Why? Because many people innocently believe that by doing the Tashlikh “they are throwing all their sins into the sea”, and in this way, they are magically absolved of all their transgressions as if the Tashlikh were a replacement for the Teshuba. This is completely false. It is not what the prophet Micha says, nor is it what those who formulated this custom wanted to convey. The Teshuba or repentance process is very serious, and this mistaken—but very popular—view of Tashlikh trivializes it.

GENUINE TESHUBA

Teshuba is a “transformative” process through which we not only change what we do but also who we are. We dedicate Ten full days to Teshuba, from the beginning of Rosh Hashanah to the end of Yom Kippur.

I will briefly describe the main steps of true Teshuba:

1. When I hear the shofar, I must wake up from my spiritual lethargy and visualize that I am in front of God, who is my Creator and also “my Judge” (the one who evaluates whether or not it was worth creating me).

2. I must acknowledge before the Divine Court that I am responsible for my actions.

3. I must admit my mistakes and recognize my bad decisions during the past year.

4. I must also identify my bad habits, some of which are already part of my personality.

5. During the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I must make amends and make amends to those I have wronged. And apologize and apologize to those whom I offended or hurt.

6. On Yom Kippur, I must confess my bad deeds, articulating in a low voice and feeling that I am before God my mistakes, my bad habits and my addictions.

7. I must ask the Creator to forgive me and give me another chance.

8. And finally, I must decide to change and improve and plan a serious and viable strategy so that the changes are real and permanent and that my resolutions are not just empty words.

The popular implicit idea that Tashlikh replaces Teshuba is outrageous and counterproductive. How can we replace this whole process of drawing closer to God, introspection, repentance and growth with the idea that one can “throw all his sins into the sea”?

CONCLUSION

Tashlikh is a deeply rooted custom, especially in Sephardic communities, and I do not intend to question it. However, teachers and rabbinical leaders must explain in their communities that the Tashlikh does NOT magically make our transgressions disappear. We recite the Tashlikh to remind ourselves that if we take the Teshuba process very seriously, repent, and change, God will forgive all our past transgressions, and there will be no records of them. The memory of my sins will disappear “as if the sea swallowed them.”

By Shemuel Bitton (edited by Tehila B.)

We know that Adam, the first person created, lived a long life of 930 years. But our Rabbis tend to analyze every tiny detail in the Tora and ask why Adam did not reach the more “perfect” number of 1000?

There is a beautiful midrash providing us with an answer. Adam Harishon was originally granted 1000 years of life on this earth. He was privy to see all the neshamot which would reside on earth after him; but one neshama was not shining as brightly as the others, it was flickering. Adam asked HaShem about this odd soul. God responded, telling Adam that this neshama belongs to someone who will die immediately after he is born; and what a shame that is, because this soul happened to have great potential. Adam immediately asks HaShem to take 70 years off of his own life and grant it to this neshama, which just so happened to belong to David Hamelech.

Ok, very nice. Adam lived to 930, David lived to 70; together it equals 1000.
But surely there is more connecting these two Biblical characters other than the ages they reached.

Let us look back to the most famous, or rather, the infamous story of Adam. The sin of the forbidden fruit.
Adam and Chava are told that they can enjoy all the wonders of Gan Eden, and take from any tree they want- except for one! And of course, they go ahead and eat from that very tree.

Many Rabbi’s tell us that when HaShem told Adam and Chava not to take from the forbidden tree, HaShem knew they would fail to listen. After all, it is simply within the grounds of human nature to succumb to fault.,

So if HaShem really intended them to eat from this tree- was that really their sin?

Once Adam eats from the tree, HaShem calls out to him asking him what he has done. Adam responds trying to turn the tables on God- it was the woman YOU gave me who convinced me to eat the fruit! Why am I at fault??
He took zero responsibility, and managed to blame HaShem for his own mistake!
Most of us are in shock from this ordeal- how could he blame the faultless Creator? But this is in fact a sin in which many of us are guilty ourselves- we blame the circumstances we are put in (undoubtedly by God) for our own mistakes.

However, this is not something David Hamelech ever did.
Our king David is known for his ability to admit to his sins and apologize for them. After the incident with Batsheva, the prophet Natan goes to David and publicly calls him out, saying he is deserving of great punishment! David could have very logically concluded that he is king, and any man- prophet or not- audacious enough to rebuke him is deserving of death! Or at the very least, he could have kicked Natan out and ignored him. But David opens his mouth, and the first two words which come out are, “Hatati LaHaShem,” I have sinned to Hashem.
David took responsibility for his actions.

Perhaps in his 70 years of life, David did not only compensate for Adam’s 1000 years, but he also in a way compensated for his actions. He mastered the main trait Adam was lacking in.

Every single one of us is going to make mistakes; we are all going to do things that are not ok. HaShem knows that.
So what will we be judged on?
How we act after we make those mistakes.
Do we flail our arms around frantically, pointing fingers at anyone but ourselves? Or do we step up and admit to fault?

Once we recognize our mistakes, we can not only move past them, but learn from them, and we are less likely to repeat them in the future.

After all, this is the whole point of Asseret Yeme’ Teshuva. We first must recognize and admit to our sins, and then make a plan to change and grow from them.

Be’Ezrat HaShem may we all learn from David Hamelech and be able to imitate his humble ways as we stand before God on these precious days.

“When the doors of compassion are opening, on the day that I will lift my hands in prayer to God, please, Almighty, keep in mind on this day of Judgment, the merit of the sacrificer (Abraham), of the sacrificed (Isaac) and the altar (which they built together) ”.

One of the best-known piyutim of the Rosh HaShana Tefilla (liturgy) is “ET SHAARE ​​RATZON”, “When the doors of compassion …”. This poem is recited immediately before hearing the Shofar, which officially announces the beginning of the Divine judgment. At that time, we ask God not to judge us according to the strict letter of His law, but with compassion. And we also ask Him to take into account the merit of Abraham, our patriarch, when he was willing to sacrifice his son Isaac (Aqedat Ytzjaq). We remember this event at this very moment, first, because the Shofar, a ram’s horn, reminds us of the last “test” to which our patriarch Abraham was subjected.

“It was the final test, the last of the ten: “Take your son, the one born to his wife Sarah, whom you love so much, and offer him as a pure sacrifice to God, on the mountain on which the glory of God manifests ”.

The most difficult test Abraham Abinu had to go through was the binding of Isaac.

The biblical text begins with an exceptional clarification: Genesis 22: “And God put Abraham to the test and said … sacrifice your beloved son Isaac.” God was not asking a human sacrifice. The text clarifies that He was “testing” the limits of Abraham’s love and loyalty to Him. It is a “test” —and an exercise that will train the Jewish people for generations. To understand it better, let’s think about the drill that is normally done in a school or a building when the alarm sounds, pretending that there is a fire, and everyone must leave in an orderly manner. This test not only shows if the school, students and teachers are prepared to face this eventuality in real life, but also serves as training for the future: if everyone responds well in this simulation, it means that they are prepared to respond if someday, God forbid, there is a real fire.

With this example in mind, let us now turn to Abraham’s test. What our patriarch learns in this test — and teaches for posterity — is that a Jew must be “willing” to sacrifice everything for his or her allegiance to God. And that is how we Jews did it for generations: Hananya, Mishael and Azaria, refuse to betray the Tora, knowing that they will be sentenced to death for refusing to bow down to an idol. The same happened with Chana and her seven sons, or with the “Hasidim Rishonim” in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes (2nd century BCE). And with Ribba Aquiba and with millions of Jewish martyrs from the Inquisition to the Shoah. All those who were willing to give up their lives – or that of their children – instead of renouncing their loyalty to God in these extreme circumstances were inspired by the test Abraham Abinu went through when he demonstrated that his love for God was absolutely unconditional.

Today, we don’t have to face any of those dire tests. The challenges we must overcome to observe the Tora are ridiculously small compared to the past: I must sacrifice a little of my sleep to pray with Minyan in the morning (especially now in Selichot) or to study Tora at night, or I must sacrifice part of my money to help others, or my business activity to keep Shabbat, etc., etc. Everything is insignificant compared to the challenges our ancestors faced, when fulfilling the Tora might have costed the loss of life …

It is important to keep in mind when listening to the Shofar, that at this very moment, I’m judging myself. I’m trying to recognize what I am doing wrong and acknowledging what I am not doing right  in terms of observing God’s will. And when we judge ourselves we always need a reference, an example with which to compare ourselves. What better reference than Abraham Abinu? If my Father Abraham was willing to sacrifice what he most loved in the world in order to obey God’s will, shouldn’t I be willing to make a few sacrifices to be more careful and vigilant in my allegiance to HaShem?

HARD TIMES
In just over a month we will celebrate Rosh HaShana, the new year 5782.
To officially inaugurate the Rosh HaShana prayer, on the evening of, we read a beautiful “piyut,” a liturgical poem, called Achot Qetana. Interestingly, this piyut does not allude to the Judgment Day or even to the Shofar; it instead focuses on our desire for a better year than the one we are coming out of.
At the end of each stanza, there is a special verse repeated; “tikhle shana veqileloteha,” may the year- and all of its curses- end.
It is at this very moment, right before the official tefilot of Rosh HaShana, during the final minutes of the year 5781, that we are opening up our hearts to HaShem and asking for better times.
Before delving into the piyut itself we should clarify that fortunately, as privileged Jews of the 21st century, it will be quite difficult to relate to the content of this poem, as it describes the terrible “curses” that the Jews of that time were experiencing. However, it is through this piyut, and through understanding the pain of our ancestors, that we will be able to recognize and appreciate all that HaShem has given us today.

The author of Achot Qetana is Rabbi Abraham Hazan from the city of Gerona, Spain. We know almost nothing about him, except that he was a contemporary of Nachmanides (Ramban, 1194-1270).
Fittingly, most of the text in the piyut focuses on the painful and tragic history of the Jews in 13th century Europe. In its nine stanzas, the text describes- by a poetic and somewhat elusive form- the many persecutions and abuses that the people of Israel had suffered at the hands of the other nations with whom they had tried to find refuge and protection. It narrates the nightmare that had come to life for generations upon generations of Jews. In fact, for most of our history in exile our ancestors were defenseless refugees- unwelcome, demonized, abused.

A CINDERELLA STORY
אָחוֹת קְטַנָּה תְּפִלּוֹתֶיהָ
The youngest sister directs her pleas to You, and sings [today] Your praises Oh God, please heal her from all her ailments, May this year conclude along with all of its curses!“

“Achot Qetana” literally means the “little sister,” the youngest of all siblings.
The nations of the world are the older siblings, coming from the same Father; the Creator of our world. Israel, always considered the smallest nation (Debarim 7:7) lives in exile, banished from her land, depending on the mercy of her older siblings. But far from defending and protecting their youngest sister, these siblings are jealous of her. She is the “chosen one,” the most loved.
The beautiful and adored
Cinderella has been abandoned by her Father, and left at the mercy of her evil stepsisters. But unfortunately, this was no Grimm-brothers tale; this was the very harsh, very real experience of our people for millennia.

רְעֵה אֶת צֹאנְךָ אֲרָיוֹת זָרוּ
[Please, Almighty,] tend back to your flock, which has been scattered by the wild lions, [and direct Your anger not towards us], but towards the enemies of Israel, those who shout “Destroy her!” who have uprooted the delicate branch of the vineyard that You planted, who have destroyed and uprooted it, and have not had compassion even for its little grapes.

Israel is the flock, and God the shepherd. But this flock has strayed from their protector, and now the sheep are scattered, more vulnerable than ever. They have run away to exile, to escape the claws of the cruel lions who took over their land. Israel is also compared to a delicate vine, planted by God. But the enemy has trespassed into the vineyard; not only to steal the grapes, but also to uproot the vine, to stop it from ever growing again. The enemies have destroyed the tender plant, and have not even allowed the “olelot” to survive. “Olelot” refers to the small baby grapes which have not yet ripened; a metaphor to the Jewish children, taken from their parents’ into slavery, or forced conversion. Ripped away from their vine before they were allowed to grow.

חֵילָהּ קָבְעוּ הַגּוֹי כֻּלּוֹ
They dispossess her … they degrade her … and from the pit of her exile her soul is consumed … she has become the poorest of the poor … When will You pity her and when will You rescue Your little daughter from her dungeon?

The youngest daughter sought refuge in Europe. Yet she suffers constant persecution and expulsion; Europe has turned into a prison… but ironically it is the walls of this horrible dungeon that protect her from her enemies. What can possibly be worse than this prison? Being thrown out, having absolutely nowhere to go, no home to return to. Being humiliated and exposed to her enemies that seek her complete destruction. Israel has no army, no base, no power, no political influence. She is completely alone…

FINAL REFLECTION

Reading and singing ACHOT QETANA nowadays leaves me with a bittersweet taste. On the one hand, it is impossible to ignore all what our ancestors went through for 2,000 years… And on the other hand, remembering their suffering helps me to have a better perspective of our contemporary problems as diaspora Jews- which seem so insignificant after reading this poem. Most importantly, Achot Qetana fills my soul with the enormous satisfaction and endless joy to see that after so much suffering, finally, the Youngest Sister is back home! And against all odds, she sees that the prophecies that announced a redemption which seemed impossible even to visualize, are finally realized in our privileged times!

שנזכה לגאולה שלמה, אמן

To be continued

Rabbi Yosef Bitton