Jonah's Ambiguity, and ours

    At the afternoon (mincha) service on Yom Kippur, we read the Book of Jonah. Jonah is an unusual prophet. He is reluctant and tries to avoid God’s instructions. He addresses his message to non-Jews. After succeeding, he becomes distressed that the citizens of Nineveh actually listen and sincerely repent.

            Most of us assume that the story is read to stress the possibility of repentance: the people of Nineveh repent from their sins and are saved from destruction. But there may be another reason we read this book on Yom Kippur, just before the gates begin to symbolically close during the ensuing Neilah service: Jonah represents us. Like Jonah, we are reluctant to face up to the demands that are made of us, even when they are proper and appropriate. Sometimes it seems that the responsibility is too great, but other times we become fearful of failure, or fearful of success.

            We are like Jonah when we are filled with doubt, and we are like Jonah when we brood about the consequences of our own actions. Like Jonah, our faith is tested, and our faith does not always receive a passing grade. We are like Jonah when we are forced to confront our fears. We may try to run, but Yom Kippur forces us to stop and look inside of ourselves, and ask, as the sailors ask Jonah, “Who are you?”

            Like the Book of Jonah, Yom Kippur does not end with certainty.  At the Book’s conclusion, Jonah repeats that he would rather die than live. He remains unclear why his mission was undertaken and uncertain as to why it succeeded. At the very end of the Book, God instructs Jonah on the need for mercy ("Should I not spare the city of Nineveh with 120,000 inhabitants?") We do not hear Jonah's response; the Book ends with ambiguity.

            We, too, are left with ambiguity. How will we be judged? Jonah didn’t know, and neither do we. However, we do have something which Jonah lacked: hope that things will be for the best. I offer my own hope to you and yours that  the coming year will be for all of  us one of health, happiness, sustenance, and a growing awareness of who we are and who we want to be.

Shana Tovah and Shabbat Shalom

Rosh Hashanah starts tonight, but I also wanted to send around a d'var for this coming Shabbat. Have a wonderful and meaningful holiday, and Shabbat Shalom.

Ha'azinu

Deuteronomy 32:1-52

Précis: The parasha, the shortest in the Five Books, containing only 52 verses, begins with the “Song of Moses,” a hymn sung by Moses within sight of the Promised Land. The song contrasts God’s fidelity to the faithlessness of the People, and the need of the People to learn from their history under God’s care. Moses predicts that Israel’s enemies will be overcome. Moses is told to climb a mountain to see the Promised Land he will not to enter, as he prepares for his death. This is the last parasha read on Shabbat in the annual cycle: the final parasha (V’zot Habracha) is read traditionally on Simchat Torah.

Deut. 32:1   “Listen, skies, so that I may speak and let the earth hear what my mouth says.”

                Yael Splansky teaches [10 Minutes of Torah (9/24/12)] that Moses’ speech abilities were transformed during the 40 years in the Wilderness. The man who was reticent about speaking to Pharaoh in Exodus 4:10 ("Please, O my Lord, I have never been a man of words… I am slow of speech and slow of tongue”) has been transformed into a loquacious and elegant speaker of words (Deuteronomy’s Hebrew name means “Words”). In the cited verse, the introduction to his final speech to the people, he utters a prophetic poem to the People which has also been translated as “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; let the earth hear the words I utter! May my discourse come down as the rain, my speech distill as the dew, like showers on young growth…” Words are important, as Moses clearly understands in this final speech. 

               The same is true of hearing, or listening. Words may have meaning and weight, but they are nothing unless they are heard. Our Jewish world is inculcated both with words and with listening, as attested to by the recitation of the Sh’ma, which is a demand that we pay attention and really listen to the words presented to us.

               At this season, the words we recite are said together, publicly, and out loud. While we “say” and “speak” the words, we also need to “listen” and “hear” them as well. I’d suggest that speaking and listening are the distinguishing characteristics of our Jewish lives, and are, in addition, essential elements for maintaining a positive relationship with all of those around us.

               In this New Year, I hope we can all speak with intention, authority and wisdom, and that we can listen carefully, attentively, and with clarity.