Rosh Hashanah and Ki Thavo

Rosh Hashanah and Ki Thavo

A realization often happens in increments. And each increment is a rehearsal of that same realization. 

 It’s like climbing a mountain. In short, we think about the top so much it’s as if we rehearse that final breath-taking moment step after step.

 It’s like life.  We can see ourselves under the chupah months before the wedding ceremony. 

   

 It’s like life-times. We can see ourselves in olam habah  (the world of milk and honey) many journeys before we arrive.

In short, we are continually preparing for something unknown, exquisite and radiant, described in Torah as a spiritual inheritance.

 And at the same time because it hasn’t happened yet we have this raw need but don’t know how to fix it.  The comfortable life, the job, the house, the dinner, the grade in school, the friendship, the relationship,  the vacation, the sip of wine, the gift,  the walk in the woods, the car, the mitzvoth. Much of this we might fix and satisfy.  But we still itch with longing, one we don’t really understand. For after all, we also know that life is so beautiful.  We have our loves, our laughter, our friends, our community. There’s great joy and light.

As we approach Rosh Hashanah this conundrum becomes intense. There’s  this tremendous  yearning juxtaposed with  the joy of our world. It’s an extreme time. 

We try and prepare ourselves. Or we get pulled into the preparation everywhere. To do  what? Well,  to finally rip away our most cherished  parts and place them before God. Then maybe, as with Abraham, God will fill our gaping hole with His cherished light, that light for which we yearn. Then we hope to be purged of our pain.

 Of course, this is a kabalistic interpretation of the Akeda or the binding of Isaac.  And of course (baruch Hashem) Abraham never really goes through with the offering. But one Midrashic interpretation is that he does:  He thinks about it so much the way up the mountain that it’s as good as done by the time he gets there. As Richard Brautigan, the novelist, has said: If you think it’s real, it’s real (offering and all).

 So, in one sense, Abraham does go through with the absolute God-dedication. It’s no longer about Isaac or killing one’s son and (according to many sages) never really is.  It’s about longing.

The Alter Rabbi, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Ladi says this (in a translation of Likkutei Torah by Rabbi Zalman Schachter): Faith can be so real that we can see the faith-object and turn it into knowledge. Greater faith then builds on this new knowledge. Metaphysically (and this is my interpretation) faith and knowledge create the merge of energies that manifests the rehearsal. So by the time we get to the top of any mountain what we see is beyond our wildest dreams. And that which we visualized during the climb has already happened.  

 The best way I can explain this is to describe my experience while studying the parsha Ki Thavo.

I like to study from the Torah scroll itself.  Anyway, this week when I arrived at the temple I noticed that the administrative assistant was not doing well. There had been a death in his family. I said what I could to comfort him. He said he hadn’t been able to cry, not once.

Soon after, I opened the scroll and began the Ki Thavo climb. And a climb it was. The beginning of Ki Thavo is a vision of olam habah, the world to come.  Then we are plunged into some of the most horrific images of Torah.  We are sent to the rock-bottom, the depths of anguish.  It’s the if/then bad boy monologue. And fortunately or unfortunately, we all aren’t tzaddicks.  Half way through reading this…out loud…I thought to myself, this is insane. I kept studying.  I focused on word after word, step after step, the ache of humanity, devastating loss, and realized that I couldn’t transform these images to symbol and white space fast enough. It was a grueling climb. There was no way out of Torah-pain except through Torah.  Finally, I arrived right before the revelation at Sinai.  End of Parasha.

But why? I guess that’s the real question. Why can’t we just live with the yearning and say no  to rehearsal after rehearsal, climb after climb? After all, a good paying job is a good paying job even if it doesn’t satisfy us.   A good glass of wine is a good glass of wine (even if we can’t fully taste it).

 On my way out of the temple I saw my friend sitting at his desk.  I stopped what I was doing and walked over to him. At that moment, I couldn’t say anything.  I looked at him probably sharing some of the Torah that had just entered my system.  He burst into tears. I smiled. He smiled. We both laughed. Then I left.

 Realizations, rehearsals, the building of faith and knowledge, strenuous mountain hikes, Torah study… The resulting oneness is the top of the mountain. That’s why.  

The yearning continues though. It just doesn’t stop because of  Ki Thavo or one moment of tears, compassion,  transmission and healing. My daughter said it best at the grocery store just a few hours ago.  Mom, I know I want something here but I don’t know what it is.  

She ended up with carrot juice.  She was happy. I was happy. In the long run, we are going to go after whatever it takes to get us one step closer.  And that’s all right. There will be many rehearsals, many climbs up many mountains, many lifetimes.  This Rosh Hashanah though let’s really visualize the top.  Let’s make sure that all of the apples and honey of the New Year are right here right now. Let’s blow that shofar. Let’s manifest absolute radiance.  Let’s find that carrot juice and any symbolism we need in order to bathe in the greatest connection with Hashem possible.  And then…may we  be safe, strong, brave and radiant as we all make the grueling climb together to the oneness of kindness and love.