September 15th: Rosh Hashanah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Though we use words as though they have set meanings, many words wander around and meander in curious and sometimes amusing directions. A case in point is the word awesome which achieved new lives in the hands and mouths of teenagers and other cool people in the 1980s. From its traditional definition of “extremely impressive or daunting, inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear,” awesome was transformed to a slang word for anything positive. “Awesome car!” “Awesome concert!” “Awesome pizza, dude!” Those more expert than I may trace this usage to the “Valley Girl” culture, or to Surfer Culture or perhaps even to Cheech and Chong’s takes on drug culture, but my point is simply that the definition changed.
As it turns out, Rosh Hashanah is an excellent time to reflect on the old meaning.
In the Biblical idiom, awesome means much more than excellent or pleasurable. It describes something that is impressive but much, much, much more than the usual impressive things in life. It also describes something so impressive that our admiration is mixed with fear—with terror. Imagine the Israelites crossing the Red Sea—a story we moderns know so well that we can forget the absolute terror of the situation. When our ancient ancestors looked up and saw the Egyptians thundering toward us, we were facing certain death. It was not a ride at Disney World. It was not a concocted sense of fear in an action movie. We were facing our murderers, and things were hopeless. Then the miracle, a miracle of such unexpected and awe-inspiring grandeur that we were dumbstruck. We stumbled across the sea between the walls of water, tingling with a disquieting sense that reality had suddenly become vastly different, very scary, very purposeful. While we usually try to understand our environment so that we can work within it or manipulate it, this was something totally different—something in which a power beyond our understanding or imagining was at play.
The Egyptians were quick on their feet and adapted their battle plan. We’ll just chase them into the this (newly formed) roadway and kill them there. “I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil; my desire shall have its fill of them! I will bare my sword—my hand will subdue them!” (Exodus 15.9) But then, this world to which the cavalry so quickly adapted turned—changed drastically and overturned them. “They went down into the depths like a stone.” And we, we who were still dumbfounded and stumbling through the passageway, did not know what to think. It was all so far from what we knew of life.
When words were finally put together to describe the events of that day, one used was awesome, in Hebrew nora.
“Mi chamocha ba’elim, Adonai?!
Who is like You, O Lord, among the celestials/gods?!
Mi kamocha ne’dar bakodesh!
Who is like You, majestic in holiness,
NORA tehilot, oseh fele!
Awesome in splendor, working wonders!” (Exodus 15.11)
We had encountered a Presence of immense and jaw dropping power, a power and purpose both incredibly impressive and incredibly fear invoking. The power had worked for us that day, but it was not under our control. This was something both to appreciate and to fear. This was something demanding deep and profound respect. This was and is serious—awesome!
Few of us approach the High Holy Days with this kind of deep and foreboding reverence—and I do not see this as a problem. There is much to celebrate in our lives. There is much to contemplate in the wisdom of our Tradition. And, we are assured, forgiveness is within our reach. As we shall read several times, “It is not the death of sinners You seek, but that they should turn from their evil ways and live!” (Ezekiel 18.23) If we do the work of Teshuvah / repentance, we will be forgiven.
Nonetheless, there is a reason the High Holy Days are traditionally called The Days of Awe / Yamim HaNora’im. The importance of our gathering is not to be underestimated. We matter. Our lives matter. Our deeds matter. Our thinking matters. Our prayers matter. What we are doing—as we contemplate and navigate life—is of great importance. It is obviously important to us, but it is also important to the people who love us, the people who know us and interact with us, and to our Creator, the Presence in which we find our existence. As Martin Buber observed, we learn in the Torah that each one of us was created for a reason, for a purpose. Each one of us is God’s stake in the whole world.
So, when we hear the musically trepidatious words, “Un’taneh tokef kedushat hayom ki hu NORA v’ayom. / Let us proclaim the sacred power of this day. It is AWESOME and full of dread,” let us remember that we are involved in serious matters. What we do matters. What we think matters. How we navigate our lives matters. Let us pay attention.
As Sa’adia Gaon observed, the Book of Life is not so much written by God as by us. Let us write good years for ourselves and everyone else.
L’shanah Tovah Tikatevu!