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Rosh Hashanah Readings: Inspiration, Information, and Contemplation, Edited by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkin, Jewish Lights, 2006
Hearing the Silent Scream : And God heard the voice of the boy
- Rabbi Shawn Israel Zevit
I open the still crisp pages of the Machzor
and look at the parsha selected for Day One of Rosh Hashannah
the first day of the New Year,
the Day the World comes into Being again.
And the conversation begins.
It is Ishmael’s story that we read-
first born, beloved of our ancestor Avraham,
cast out due to familial conflict,
along with his mother Hagar
to die in the wilderness,
too young to form any words.
“And God heard the voice of the child where he was.”
The text does not mention that Ishmael cried out,
only that his mother Hagar did.
Yet God does not respond to her,
but to the “voice of the child.”
According to Rebbe Menachem Mendel of Vurkah
the text hints to us that although Ishmael did not cry out openly,
his heart screamed inside him with a silent scream
that only the Holy One could distinguish.
On this day, what voices do we listen to
that have no form,
that are beyond words,
speechless shouts,
silent screams,
he stilled small voice.
Who will discern the pulse of the hidden heart
that has lodged in our throats?
As we struggle to cry out,
to allow the broken heart to be
without rushing in to mend it too quickly,
let us find You as the Source of our outrage and compassion,
bewilderment, shock and sorrow, and let us not be consumed.
Ishmael, it is your story we read today,
this first day of a New Year.
Are you here to remind us that even if you were sent away,
seen as Avraham’s first born,
but not the inheritor of our lineage,
that you are our teacher too?
Do you come to us as the Torah of the day
to defy all inhumane action?
Left to die under a tree,
God heard you in your silence.
Perhaps the questions can suffice for now
as we move through these next ten days of teshuvah consciousness.
As we look to each other,
we may become the eyes, ears and hearts
of the Source of Life coursing through us-
we may be able to hear the silent screams
beneath the functional exterior and the "getting-on-with-it".
Then we ourselves can become
like the angel was for Ishmael
showing his mother a well of water
springing up beside her.
We can become a hand to direct someone
to a fountain of support,
a comforting glance or embrace,
a knowing wordless look
that speaks volumes of tenderness.
We are the blessings waiting
to be shared with each other in these days to come.
Life’s fragility
has perhaps never been more apparent
than in this moment.
Hear the silent cry we all hold-
and may the Source
that is Life itself,
be witnessed in our listening.
Naming the Day
“God does not predetermine whether a person shall be righteous or wicked, that God leaves to us.”
— Midrash Tanchuma, Pekudei 3
Like the many facets of our lives that we put under the looking glass at this time of year, so this day has many names it has associated with it. In the names themselves, the beauty of our meaning-laden Hebrew language reveals to us a road map for the journey we might undertake in these Days of Awe. What of that overarching term- the Days of Awe? We have the opportunity to feel these days like never before: The liturgy can speak to us in a way it has never spoken to us, for we have the potential to be open and unguarded. We will encounter words, which will take on new meaning and relevance. Some will move us to tears, some will anger us and some will move us to joy, and some will evoke fear and awe.
Ultimately we do not have to be defined by any single act as we reflect on the year, rather our actions in the face of the places we have missed the mark are what Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur call us to examine. First we need to feel, to self reflect and evaluate. We each have our own individual challenges that existed prior to today and will continue. Yet the work that is called for is the work of the High Holy Days, which of course is the work of every day: It is the sacred work of teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah- self-repair, honest connection, and loving acts that restore justice. The work starts right here, starts right now, with us, with me, with…
Rosh Hashannah is also Yom Harat Olam- the metaphorical birthday of the world when new possibilities are born into opportunity, and hope for what can be and not only what is permeates our hearts and the liturgy. We blow the shofar and declare, “Happy creation day Universe! That we are here, that we have each other, that we can think and feel and not be numb and despairing in the face of harsh reality, is God in action working through us. It is the way we bring in the Jewish New Year- not be losing ourselves through partying, but regaining ourselves through self-examination. Each of us is a world unto itself our Sages would offer. So the world that is us and the world that is beyond us, all are born into the possibility of the new and different and more conscious and aware. This is not nostalgia and museum piece liturgy- this is us now in this room. Tomorrow will begin to tell us if today was a return or just a rehearsal for a far-off opening night.
The call of the shofar informs another name of this day- Yom Teruah- a day for blasts. We wait, childlike next to our children in anticipation of the sound that transports us in time and also asks us to be fully present to take it in. Can you find the stillness and clear space inside today to fulfill the mitzvah? To not only hear the shofar, but also really listen to its echoes in your own being?
What places will the shofar resonate with?
What doors will it unlock?
What wounds will it sooth or stir?
What memories will it evoke?
What possibilities will it call on?
What illusions will it shatter?
Past, present and future are all called into the moment by the shofar. This day, this Yom Teruah, is also training for living life unencumbered, and yet respectful of the past, anticipating the future, undistracted and open to the flow of the present.
This Rosh Hashannah also has another name. Yom Hazikaron. The Day of Memory, of remembering. We remember the dreams we yearned for, comforting the broken hopes that lie aching on the ground of a lifetime. We remember the dreams we buried, that with some watering are lying, waiting for nurturance to blossom into heaven in our lifetime. We remember those who share our lives that we have forgotten under the weight of making ends meet or habitual ways of relating, or taking for granted. We remember that “I’m sorry” is not a defeat, but freedom from our own prison of closed-heartedness. We remember the world outside our little narratives, a world that longs for us to accompany it in discovery, compassion and healing.
So this Rosh Hashannah, this day of many names begins a journey the ten days of repentance, culminating in Yom Kippur. The journey of today asks us to explore what can be born anew, what physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual barriers need to be broken down by the blast of the shofar, what needs to be remembered so we do not forget our roots or repeat the same errors again unconsciously. My heartfelt prayer for all of us is that the journey we are taking together will help us lay the foundation for a year in which we become more of who we can, engage the world as emissaries for social change and social justice, heal the hurts in ourselves and those we have contributed to in others, and find in this loving community, God’s presence in our lives and in the world around us.
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