Here I am

On Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur, the Hazzan chants a special prayer immediately before the repetition of the Amidah in the Musaf service, called “Hineni” in which the Hazzan leader begs God to accept the leader’s role as spokesperson for the community, the shaliach tzibur, even though the prayer acknowledges the speaker as unworthy. It some congregations, the Hazzan begins this chant from the rear of the sanctuary, walking slowly down the aisle towards the bimah, often in a very still, quiet voice. The prayer begins:

            “Here I stand, impoverished in merit, trembling in Your Presence, pleading on behalf of Your People Israel even though I am unfit and unworthy for the task.”

            The word itself, “Hineni” is one with powerful echoes in the Bible. When God calls to Adam, he responds “Hineni.” When God calls to Abraham, he, too, responds “Hineni.” When God calls to Moses, he responds “Hineni” as well. It is more than “I am here.” It connotes “I am prepared to follow Your will.”

            When God calls us to do important and difficult tasks on behalf of the community or the Jewish people, the answer must be “Hineni.” Here I am, here I stand, even though I may lack merit to represent anyone beyond myself. Even when we merely assume the role of an active member of the Jewish community, we again state “Here I am, Hineni.”

            In either case, however, we are obligated to must retain the humility expressed in the Hineni prayer, and remember our own limitations.

            And yet. Yom Kippur means many things to many people, with its overt emphasis on fasting and recounting one’s sins. Will we live or die? Will we prosper or face challenges? I choose, however, to focus this year on “Hineni” and pledge to “be here” for those facing crises so much greater than my own: to the orphan, the widow, the stranger, the aging neighbor, the victim of natural disaster, of political retribution, of prejudice and injustice. For them, as well as for ourselves, we say “Hineni.”

Shanah Tovah

             The central concept of the season is t’shuvah, which we usually translate as “repentance,” although the Hebrew word’s origin is closer to “turning.”  There are many different motives to encourage repentance. We might be motivated by regret, by a sense of inadequacy, or by loss. We can also be motivated by fear, as this clever story illustrates (as told by Rabbi Marc Israel, while he served at Ohr Kodesh Congregation):

            A woman received a parrot as a gift. The parrot was fully grown and quite beautiful but it had a very bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary. Every other word was a curse word; those that weren't profane were, to say the least, rude.

            The woman tried to change the bird's attitude by constantly saying polite words and playing soft music, anything she could think of. Nothing worked. She yelled at the bird and the bird got worse. She shook the bird and the bird became even madder and ruder. Finally, in a moment of desperation, the woman put the parrot in the freezer to get a minute of peace. For a few moments, she heard the bird swearing, squawking, kicking and screaming. Then, suddenly, there was absolute quiet. Frightened that she might have actually hurt the bird, the woman quickly opened the freezer door.

            The parrot calmly stepped out onto the woman’s extended arm. Perfectly calm, the parrot said, "I am very sorry that I offended you with my language and my actions and I ask your forgiveness. I will endeavor to correct my behavior, and I am sure it will never happen again."

            The woman was astounded at the changes in the bird's attitude and was about to ask what brought about the sudden change of heart when the parrot continued, "May I ask what the chicken did?"

            (Please pause and groan or laugh here.)

            Because of t’shuvah, Rosh Hashanah is the holiday which offers us the possibility of hope: hope that we can overcome our fears and weaknesses, hope that the coming year will be better. We seek the potential of closeness with others, with God, and peace within ourselves. While the Jewish calendar has several other “new years” (for trees, tithing, Passover) Rosh Hashanah is the most universal in outlook, celebrating the creation of the world. As the world itself is in effect re-created, we are offered the opportunity to look deep within ourselves and go about the task of re-creating what is missing in our lives. While we strive to repair the world (tikkun olam) we also strive to repair our inner world. There is despair at our failings, but there is also hope. Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Psiscke is quoted as suggesting: "Keep two truths in your pocket: the world was created for my sake and I am but dust and ashes.”

            On the one hand, we are crowns of creation; on the other, we are worthless. This dissonance is the essential core of the Days of Awe we now commence. It also symbolizes that we always have another chance to do better and to live better. May the coming New Year be one of re-creation, of life, sustenance, and happiness to all.