|
|
Sept. 23, 2011
Bouquet of blessing for new year
Prayer purifies and ennobles our hearts during Elul, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
DVORA WAYSMAN
The sixth month in the Hebrew calendar, the holy month of Elul, is well underway. The holiness of the month is perhaps made most explicit by a rabbinic suggestion that the month was named from the initial letters of the phrase “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li” (I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine), describing the relationship between G-d and His people.
Overall, the significance of the month is paramount in biblical experience. In the Aggadah, we read that Elul is significant because of Moses’ 40-day stay on Mount Sinai, which was calculated to have begun on the first of Elul and ended on the 10th of Tishrei, which is Yom Kippur.
Prayer takes on special meaning in Elul as we move toward Rosh Hashanah, which celebrates the birthday of the world. Every weekday morning in Elul, the shofar is sounded and Psalm 27 is recited. The Torah tells us that Abraham was the first to utter a true prayer, and it was for his fellow man. The word for prayer is tefilah, from the root palal, meaning to judge or intercede. And, during Elul, as we approach the time when we will be judged, we practise a spiritual stocktaking.
Sephardim begin saying Selichot, special prayers for forgiveness and mercy, at the beginning of Elul; Ashkenazim recite this only in the last days of the month. The word selichah means forgiveness. We look inward, trying to assess what happened to last year’s dreams, asking pardon for wrongs committed and hoping that, by the means of repentance, charity and prayers, we will be written into the Book of Life for another year.
Rav Nachman of Bratslav expressed this beautifully: “Every word of your prayer is like a rose which you pick from its bush. You continue until you have formed a bouquet of blessings, until you have pleated a wreath of glory for the Lord.” Further, we are taught in the Talmud that, “prayer is the service of the heart.” (Ta’anit 2a) In 1899, it was the author Micha Josef Berdichevsky who expanded on these thoughts, writing: “All things pray, and all things exhale their souls. Creation is itself but a sweetness and a longing, a sort of prayer to the Almighty.”
A tale is told of a man who sat in his study before the pious Rabbi Mordecai of Nadvona. Before Rosh Hashanah, he asked permission to be dismissed. “Why are you hurrying?” asked Reb Mordecai. The disciple replied, “I am a reader. I must look in the machzor [the festival prayer book] and put my prayers in order.” Said the tzaddik to the student: “The prayer book is the same as it was last year. It would be better for you to look into your deeds, and put yourself in order.”
Prayers purify, refine and ennoble our hearts. Because they are selfless, prayers of thanksgiving and praise are deemed more worthy than petitionary prayers, those in which we make requests. When mystics pray, they believe there is an ascent of the soul, where it soars to upper worlds. Then, there are those that believe that the highest form of worship is a meditative silence.
During the Rosh Hashanah musaf service, we repeat the words: “Repentance, prayers and good deeds remove the evil of the Divine decree.” Whatever we have forfeited by evil deeds, we may recover by prayer and improved conduct.
During the High Holidays, we recite a special prayer called Unetanneh Tokef, when we are made aware of our mortality. One section reads: “Humanity’s origin is dust, and dust is our end. Each of us is a shattered pot, grass that must wither, a flower that will fade, a shadow moving on, a cloud passing by, a particle of dust on the wind, a dream soon forgotten…. But You are the Ruler, the everlasting G-d.” Jewish legend has it that this prayer was written in medieval times by Rabbi Amnon of Mainz, who was ordered to convert to Christianity by the local bishop. When he refused, his limbs were amputated, one by one. As he lay dying, he requested to be brought to the synagogue and, as his mutilated body lay before the holy ark, he uttered the words of Unetanneh Tokef, which became part of the High Holiday liturgy.
Today, we pray for all Jews to have a good, safe year. We share a common destiny – Jews in Israel and abroad – and, if it is good for one Jew, it is good for us all. It is this shared destiny that binds us together, no matter how different our ethnic and cultural boundaries may be.
I memorized the following poem when I was a schoolgirl. I never knew the author (the poem has been attributed to an anonymous source and also, by some, to Stephen Grellet, a prominent Quaker missionary during the French Revolution). I think it is appropriate now and throughout the year:
“I shall pass through this world but once;
Any good therefore that I can do,
Or any kindness I can show
To any human being,
Let me do it now.
Let me not defer it or neglect it
For I shall not pass this way again.”
May we all be inscribed for a good year of health, happiness, prosperity and, above all, a year of peace for Israel.
Dvora Waysman is an Australian-born journalist living in Jerusalem. She is the author of nine books, including Woman of Jerusalem, Esther and The Pomegranate Pendant.
^TOP
|
|
