This High Holidays: Are we Praying to be Raised or Praying to be Lowered?

This High Holidays:
Are we Praying to be Raised or Praying to be Lowered?

Yaakov Jaffe

The high note of the Yamim Noraim service, both literally and figuratively, growing up, was the two-word phrase “mi yarum,” “who will be raised,” halfway through the U-Netaneh Tokef piyyut. These two words proceed the congregation’s cry of the now-anthem of the day “Repentance, prayer, charity can remove[1] the evil of[2] the decree,” and the two-word phrase carries a special intensity.[3] “Who will be raised” ought to carry a special message for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, [4] although what that message might be requires special consideration.

For the first two paragraphs of this piyyut, the tension builds, leading up to the two words “who will be raised.” The speaker considers the frailty of humanity, and the gravity of the judgment that takes place on the High Holidays. Said tension reaches its climax through a long list of potential passings ending with “mi yarum,” ready to be released with the congregation’s reply. Using word-painting, many Shliach Tzibbur will ominously lower his voice at the words “mi yishafel,” “who will be lowered,” and then raise it both in pitch and in amplification triumphantly asserting “mi yarum,” “who will be raised,” the preferred outcome which ends the paragraph.

Yet, one can ask whether being raised is really the preferred outcome. Do we really pray to be raised and achieve a position of more prominence, power, or dominance instead of being lowered? Inspecting the prayer at length will help us understand the meaning of these words, and whether being raised or lowered is the better result. The question can be answered on two different levels – both investigating what the original author intended, and also what the individual reciting the prayer in synagogue ought to feel today.

Key to answering this question is the unusual order of four words in the center of U-Netaneh Tokef, “who shall become poor and who shall become wealthy; who will be lowered and who will be raised.”  Not all versions of the piyyut feature this order, and understanding the thinking behind the order is crucial to understanding which of those four outcomes we aspire towards and which we prefer to avoid.  Inspection of the piyyut as a whole is vital to understand how the individual at prayer arrives at these key words, and so a brief introduction to U-Netaneh Tokef follows below.

A Piyyut of Human Mortality and Divine Magnificence

U-Netaneh Tokef is of uncertain origin, found in the standard liturgy of today and also as far back as the Cairo Geniza.[5] Serving as an introduction to Kedushah,[6] it consists of four paragraphs, and each of the four find a different way to contrast human mortality and Divine magnificence. For example, the third paragraph contrasts the ephemerality of humanity with God (“And you are, He, King, Living and Everlasting).[7] The fourth paragraph lists many great praises of the name of Hashem who has no limit and no end. Thus, the piyyut is more a praise or description of God, than it is a prayer to God; we ask little from Hashem in these words, mostly describing him, as is fitting for a Siluk piyyut and the start of kedusha.

A dramatic first paragraph describes the day of judgement,[8] comparing humanity to soldiers or sheep, where God determines the decree of each creature, to life or to death.[9] God is judge, arguer, knower, witness, scribe, sealer, counter – without any assistant or rival. Both the shepherd and general determine which of their flock and troop would die, without taking appeals from specific soldiers or sheep. The general and shepherd sometimes might not even have any deep, thoughtful criteria who lives and who dies.[10] In contrast, the profound, novel idea of the high holidays, according to this piyyut, is that Hashem is different in giving the Jew on the high holidays the capacity to change the decree from the negative side of the ledger to the positive side through a direct appeal for a change. The power of the piyyut is how it builds to create the concept of an awesome God, with scurrying fearful angels beside Him,[11] who has full, unchallenged, unappealable control over judgement, only to then later break the model and show that reprentance and prayer provides an alternative option where humanity can change the decree.

The first paragraph is replete with allusions to Biblical verses and to Midrashim that make this core point,[12] using meter and rhythm to build tension. The paragraph consists of 26 phrases, many of which operate as pairs. Some are rhyming pairs (hayom-ayom, malchutekha-kisekha, nishkahot-zichronot, yitaka-yishama, yeichafeizun-yocheizun, edro-shivto), while other pairs use using Biblical Parallelism, and share the same content twice in different words (checking his flock-passing under the rod, cut the endpoint for every creature-inscribe the decree of their judgment, the day of judgment has come-to count all the legions of Heaven in judgment). Everyone’s signature appears in the book of recollections, attesting to the truth of what has happened (Sifri to Devarim 32:4 based on Job 37:7). The book miraculously is even read on its own (recalling Megilah 15b’s interpretation of Esther 6:1). The paragraph ends with three verbs describing God meeting out judgment: counting and measuring each creature, cutting the end for every creation, and then inscribing or writing their decree.

A Dozen Pairs of Life and Death Outcomes

The second paragraph reviews a series of life outcomes in pairs, culminating in the question of who will be raised and who will be lowered.  It is important to recognize that in general, the more negative outcome appears second. This pattern suggests that being raised, second in its pair, might be the more negative of the two outcomes.

The second paragraph begins with three lines that set the stage for this somber section: how many will be die or be born,[13] who will live or die, and whether it will be in the proper time.[14] The second and third of these three lines contain each a pair of outcomes beginning with “mi.” Recalling the paradigm of troops and sheep, the commander or shepherd decides which of the group lives and which dies – not exactly judging each individual on his or her own, just deciding how many will live and how many will die. This introduction is followed by five pairs of types of deaths, with the more negative listed second:

Who by water and who by fire” [water=strangulation; fire is worse, Sanhedrin 37b][15]
Who by sword and by wild animal.” [Animal=stoning is worse, Sanhedrin 37b, Eicha 4:9]
Who by famine and who by thirst (dehydration).” [Thirst is worse, Rashi Bamidbar 20:3]
Who by earthquake and who by plague” [Protracted, painful death of plague is worse]
Who by strangulation and who by stoning” [Stoning is worse, Sanhedrin 49b)

The paragraph ends with five pairs of outcomes, with a more positive outcome juxtaposed with a negative outcome. Here, again, the inferior outcome typically comes second – at least in older versions of the piyyut. Below is a translation of the five pairs, using the verbiage of most Mahzorim but with the negative outcome appearing last, which is how they appear in some Mahzorim.16

Who shall rest and who will move around[17]
Who shall be quieted and who will be torn[18]
Who shall be made serene and who will be rebuked[19]
Who shall be made rich and who shall be made poor[20]
Who shall be raised and who shall be lowered[21]

The second paragraph, in sum, is a litany of a dozen possible outcomes, many of them negative. The listener feels the tension build, waiting for it to be released through the cathartic chant “repentance, prayer, and charity.” One of the numerous bad outcomes seems to be being lowered, and thus we hope instead to be raised; the negative outcome, being lowered, appears last.

Reversing the Last Pair of Outcomes

It is common practice today to reverse the final two outcomes, “raised” and “lowered” to result in a new line “who shall be lowered and who shall be raised.” Some also reverse the penultimate pair, rich and poor.[22] Why reverse the pair and end with what appears to be the positive conclusion and not the negative one? Two answers present themselves, a conventional answer, presented in the paragraphs that follow, and a more speculative answer which will be presented in the following sections. The conventional answer maintains that being “raised” is indeed the preferred outcome, while the more speculative suggestion wonders if being “lowered” is the better outcome.

It is ancient Jewish practice to end units of liturgy with a positive conclusion. Many of the most sad or pessimistic liturgical prayers, including the Kinot and Slichot, often end with a final line that is positive. By rule, the first six Aliyot of Torah reading must end with something positive and readings of the Haftarah, Megilot, and the recitation some chapters of Tehillim (such as Chapter 94 on Wednesdays) are often tweaked to ensure the endings are positive.

It is therefore unsurprising to find that in most congregations the final pair or two pairs in the second paragraph, are each reversed, ostensibly so the paragraph ends positively, at a high note with a positive outcome. Consequently, there are ten pairs where the worst outcome is second, and then in the final one or two pairs, the order is reversed, and the worst outcome is first. Musically, ending positively also allows the prayer leader to end this central moment of the prayers with a dramatic, musical flourish, often not at the cadence point but an octave or two higher than it, thereby readying the congregation to respond.

Yet, in the next section, we speculate whether there is an an alternative reason for reversing the order of the final line prayer, which preserves the pattern of the rest of the paragraph, with the negative outcome appearing second. In this alternative, later publishers argue that the Jew actually prefers the outcome of being lowered before God instead of being raised as a pseudo-rival to Him, so the reversal places the negative choice last as it has been across the entire piyyut: “Who shall be lowered” – a good outcome – instead of “and who shall be raised,” a surely negative result.

This question can be asked on multiple levels:

  1. What the original author think when he composed the pair raised/lowered?
  2. What was the thinking of the publishers or editors who reversed the order and put being lowered first and raised second?
  3. And beyond the history, what should the individual at prayer think when reading these words on the high holidays?

Biblical and Mishnaic Ethical Teachings about being Raised or Lowered

The book of Yeshayahu features a three-chapter prophecy about the greatness of God and the misplaced arrogance of humanity.  Many themes of this chapter are apropos of the high holidays, and indeed Isaiah 5:16 is used to end the blessing of God’s holiness on the high holidays, moments after the conclusion of U-Netaneh Tokef: “And Hashem, Master of Legions, became high through judgment, and the holy God become holy through Tzedakah.”  The section of Yeshayahu commands humanity to change their haughty attitude and lower themselves in the presence of the Almighty.  Indeed, the prior verse (5:15) reads “and a human being is let down and a person is lowered (vayishpal), and the eyes of the high ones shall be lowered (tishpalnah).”  Twice in the verse, the prophet teaches that humanity should conduct itself in a posture of being lowered, ceding the high, exalted space for their Creator.

The root to be lowered, sh-p-l appears fifty-three times in the Tanach in verb and adjective form, in both Biblical Hebrew and Biblical Aramaic; two of the fifty-three appear in the above cited verse. It also can be used as a noun, although with slightly different meaning. The word is often contrasted with height, to be “gavoha,” but at times is also contrasted with being raised, and the root r-v-m.

The plurality of the fifty-three times appears in the Book of Isaiah. A lengthy prophecy at the start of the book is focuses specifically on the idea of lowering the raised, making the “rum” into “shafel” (Isaiah 2:9, 11, 12, 17).[23] The thrust of this prophecy is that a human being should strive to be lowly, not to be haughty and raised, and that any person who is not yet lowly should strive to become so. The chapter makes no mention of any other individuals, righteous or not, who should be raised, because that position is reserved for God. No human should be raised, and being raised is synonymous with sin. This prophecy doesn’t read as a typical description of sin and punishment, where the wicked are lowered for their sins, it reads as amoral argument that all of humanity should be willing to be lowered.

The Haftarah for the morning of Yom Kippur (57:15) is one of two prophecies (also 32:19) where God looks favorably towards those who have already acquired the characteristic of being lowly. Again, being lowly is not a negative social or economic condition to be ameliorated, but a moral condition to be pursued. Some books of the Bible seem to focus on the lowering of the haughty (Isaiah 25:11-12) or the undeservedly raised “ramim” (Isaiah 10:33, 26:5), which leaves open the unstated possibility that certain meritorious individuals do deserve to be raised.  God will occasionally lower something as a punishment (13:11, 29:4, 57:5) or for pragmatic reasons (40:4), but the citations in the Book of Yeshayahu and in the parts of the book that find echoes in the high holiday prayer service, focus exclusively on God lowering humanity to the proper register, without raising anyone in response. 

The ethical books of the Bible convey the same sense. Proverbs 16:19 and 29:23 both recommend that an individual be of lowly spirit, “shafal ru`ach,” rejecting being of a high spirit. Psalms 75:6-8 explains that a human being should not strive to be raised, because God determines the lowly and raised. Psalms 138:6 says that God is raised and looks positively at the lowly. This idea is also echoed in Avot in at least three occasions (4:4, 4:10, 5:19). It would be odd to have intention on Yom Kippur to become something that the ethical teachings recommend against![24] The role models of Judaism are known for their humility and how they lower themselves (see Bamidbar 12:3, Rashi Devarim 32:44 “hishpil atzmo”), and we should act in the same way.

Most people at prayer argue for the reverse, that the author intended “raised” as the positive outcome and “lowered” as the negative outcome. The pair of wealthy/poor and raised/lowered appear in the exact same order in Chanah’s prayer, the Haftarah of Rosh Hashanah (2:7) “Hashem brings poverty and makes wealthy, lowers even raises;” in this context wealth and being raised are both positive outcomes. And there are a minority of Biblical passages which value raising the lowly and set lowliness as a situation to be avoided (Jeremiah 13:18, Ezekiel 17:6, 14, 24; Ezekiel 29:14-15, Malachi 2:9, Psalms 147:6, Job 5:11, Daniel 7:24). With evidence on both sides, we cannot know for certain what the original author intended, or what the editor who swapped the order intended. Still, a majority of Biblical verses, those cited above along with numerous other ones (Shmuel 2:6:22, 2:22:28=Psalms 18:28 [lower the raised], Ezekiel 21:31, Job 22:29, 40:11, Daniel 4:34, 5:19-22,), convey the idea that it is better to be lowly, not to be raised.[25]

Hints in the Piyyut: Supporting Being Lowered

The general sense of the piyyut gives multiple clues that the correct disposition for a human being is lowliness. The entire third paragraph contrasts between God’s greatness and man’s insignificant lowness: flesh and blood which will end as dust (Genesis 3:19), compared to broken pottery (Bereishit Rabbi Loc. Cit. [14:7]), dry grass & wilting sprout (Yeshauahu 40:7), passing shade (Psalms 144:4), ceasing cloud (Job 7:9), blowing breeze (Yeshayahu 40:7), flying dust (Isaiah 5:24), and a dream that flies away (Job 20:8). Human beings shouldn’t be raised, they should recognize how small they are compared to God!

Even the majestic and grand first paragraph still hints that even God’s own true nature is also defined not through His loftiness, but through His modesty. When describing the commotion among the angels on the day of judgment, God’s essence is not captured through thunder, lighting or earthquake, but through the thin, soft voice that Elijah heard (Kings 1:19:11-12). This concept of God’s greatness is implicit in the piyyut’s focus less on the power of God, and more on God’s unwavering truth. The word truth appears three times in the piyyut (twice dramatically beginning sentences); power and exaltedness are less critical than softness, honesty, consistency, and truth.[26]

Though the end of piyyut does mention briefly the unlimitedness[27] of God’s years and our inability to estimate the greatness of God’s chariots, the ecstatic praises that end the poem are also focused more on God’s honesty, kindness, and forbearance than on His power. Thus, though at the start of the piyyut, God is contrasted with humanity in such his way that His all-powerful being leads to fear, at the end, God is contrasted with humanity in a way that leads to optimism; Hashem is unique through a kindness and calmness that makes repentance possible. God’s nature, name, or “Sheim” doesn’t change – in contrast to temporary human beings, and therefore one has a guarantee that God is “slow to anger and easy to be appeased” (Avot 5:11), never wishing for the sinner to die but instead waiting each day for him to repent (Ezekiel 18:22, 32).[28]

Being raised and exalted is of limited value in the logic of this piyyut, but being soft, humble, and truthful is of a significant value. If that is what we expect from God, should we expect any less from people?

Kavanah and Tefilah

On the high holidays, the Jew will recite pages and hours of prayers, inspired and motivated by specific lines, tunes, or moments, but the prayer experience often deprives us of considering the larger outlook or theology of particular prayers. One reciting any piyyut ideally must contend with the original intent of the original author, along with any possible editors that may have exchanged the order of any of the phrases. Yet, even if the original editor had intended one reading, the individual reciting the prayer must select their own an interpretation for the prayers we recite. In this case, do we hope hoping for a year where we are raised, becoming “a head and not a tail” (Rosh Hashanah meal liturgy, based on Devarim 28:13), or a year where we are lucky to develop a lowly affect and personality and to avoid haughty self-concept.

U-Netaneh Tokef ends with the words “our names, you called with Your name” conveying that we have a close relationship with God, representing Him in such a way.[29] In a song that praises God for his patient choice to delay punishment and allow for repentance, eschewing the role of indifferent general and shepherd and instead enwrapping in the cloak of justice and sitting on the throne of truth – should we not try to be the same way? And in that vein, perhaps we should pray this year to have the honor to be inspired to successfully lower ourselves, and to avoid self-aggrandizement and self-raising.

[1] A note on the grammar and word choice: “Remove,” is in the Hebrew “ma`avirin,” using the Hiphil form of the root `-v-r, which literally means to move to the other side, but here means to remove entirely. It is sometimes taken figuratively to mean “to remove” in the Tanach, such as in Esther 8:3. See later note about the repeated use of this root in the piyyut.
[2] The phrase “evil of the decree,” implies that some part of the decree might not be evil and ought to remain. Earlier sources in the Jewish tradition talk instead about removing a “decree” entirely, not specifically “the evil of the decree,” although later sources, particularly the ones composed after U-Netaneh Tokef use the phrase “evil of the decree” as well.

Our text of Avinu Malkeinu also uses this construction, “evil of the decree,” but Rav Amram Gaon’s earlier version of Avinu Malkeinu does not have it, and so it is possible that our Avinu Malkeinu was changed to match this piyyut, or that this piyyut follows a different version of Avinu Malkeinu, as it is not entirely clear which of these tefilot was written first and thus which might have influenced the other – or if they are both influenced by a third source.
[3] Rosh Hashanah 16b lists four things that can remove the negative outcomes of the decree: charity, prayer, changing the name, and changing one’s actions (repentance); these are three of the four.
[4] Though the piyyut mentions both Yom Kippur and Rosh Ha-Shanah, its focus is on Rosh Ha-Shanah, as it includes the words “And write their decree” which reflects the events of the Day of Judgment more than the Day of Atonement when the decree is sealed (Rosh Hashanah 16b). The piyyut also walks through the four parts of the internal blessings of the Rosh Ha-Shanah service (Rosh Hashanah 32a) in order: (1) “And we shall relate the severity of the holiness of the day”….. (2) “And through this (or, on it) your Kingdom shall be elevated”…. (3) “And you will open the book of Remembrance and it shall be read on its own,” (4) “And it shall (be) blown with a great Shofar” [Isaiah 27:13, about the redemptive era].
[5] Isaac of Viena (Ohr Zarua`276), citing Ephraim of Bonn, attributes the Piyut to Amnon of Mainz. As to whether he was the original author or transmitter of the prayer, see Avraham Frankel, “The Historical figure of Rabbi Amnon of Mainz and the development of the Piyyut ‘U-Netaneh Tokef’ in Italy, Germany, and France,” Tzion (2002), 125-132, and sources cited therein.
[6] As a Siluk piyyut, the words “and we shall pronounce Kedusha to you” precedes the beginning of U-Netaneh Tokef. As it functions as a transition to Kedusha, the end of U-Netaneh Tokef asks G-d to sanctify his name, just as the angels and people do using the words of Kedusha.
[7] G-d is called “living and everlasting” in Aramaic in Daniel 6:27.
[8] As noted above, the piyyut refers to the annual day of judgment on Rosh Hashanah, although Wolf Heidenheim, Mahzor Rosh Ha-Shanah (Rodelheim, 1880), 77a was of that view that it refers to the day of judgment at the end of days, instead.
[9] Ranon Katzuf, “U-Netaneh Tokef” Daf Shevui:Bar Ilan 985 (2012), discusses these two elements of the Piyut at length. Rosh Hashanah 16a already established that humanity is judged “Kivnei Maron,” although the meaning of that phrase is unclear. The Talmud (18a) gives a variety of explanations for the phrase, including sheep [who are counted when being tithed (Rashi)], and soldiers [who are counted going out to war (Rashi)].

The first explanation, sheep, takes “Maron” to be Hebrew, cognate with Aramaic “imrana,” while the second explanation, soldiers, believes “Maron” is a loan word from the related Latin word “numerus” which refers to an army formation. The first explanation also takes its cue from the verb “to pass,” found by the animal tithe.

The author of U-Netaneh Tokef clearly has both meanings of the phrase in mind. Before using the phrase of the Mishnah, that all creatures pass before G-d “ki-vnei maron,” the piyyut refers to how the troop of heaven, “tzva marom,” is judged, signaling the second meaning of the phrase, referring to soldiers. Just after using the key phrase “ki-vnei maron,” the author compares G-d’s actions to a shepherd checking his flock (Yechezkel 34:12), passing them under his rod (Leviticus 27:32, Jeremiah 33:13). Thus, both meanings are intended and signaled, one before the use of the ambivalent phrase and one just after.

The meaning of the Aramaic “imrana” is, itself, also unclear. Rashi takes it to be equivalent to “imra,” meaning lamb, in Aramaic, although the words are slightly different from each other.
[10] Katzuf notes that in the case of the animal tithe, which according to some is determined by Rosh Hashanah (Rosh Hashanah 2a), 1 out of every 10 sheep is sentenced to be sacrificed. In the case of the Roman decimatio, 1 out of every 10 soldiers is similarly sentenced to death in punishment for a collective crime. In both cases, 1 out of 10 is killed, but their death is not the result of a unique, specific judgment of each specific subject, rather a certain percentage of the group dies, and the selection of specific ones are arbitrary. Vayikra 27:33 even requires that the shepherd not compare between good and bad when deciding who will die. In that vein, sometimes, the death of human individuals over the course of a year might seem to be similarly arbitrary.

Alternatively, one could distinguish and say that soldiers are evaluated based on their fitness are past record of performance, while specifically sheep are judged as a group and without an eye to specific members of the group as individuals. In any event, the piyyut begins by implying humanity is judged in the same way, before later providing the alternative account, that repentance allows us to be judged uniquely based on our own accomplishments in the past year.[
[11] A note on the Biblical sources for the wording: “u-malachim yeichapheizun,” “and angels will hurry,” is based on Psalms 104:7, where the verb appears although the subject of the verb is unclear; it probably refers to the waters but could be taken to refer to angels which appeared earlier in verse 4. The line ends “ve-chil u-re’adah yocheizun,” fear and dread will grab them,” with a rhyming verb and similar vowel pattern, based on Yeshayahu 13:8. Though the two verbs look the same, they are grammatically different, however. The former is a standard third person plural verb with an added nun for sound with no grammatical importance; the latter is a third person plural verb with a suffix, “grab them.”
[12] A note on the Biblical sources for the wording: sources include: “awesome and frightening” (Habakuk 1:7), “raise your monarchy” (Numbers 24:7), “establishing a throne with kindness and truth” (Isaiah 16:5), judging the “troop of heaven” (Isaiah 24:21), “not clear in Your eyes” (Job 15:15).
[13] A note on the grammar and word choice: The piyyut will later use the convetional root for death, m-t-h, but here uses an alternative “who will pass,” with the root `-v-r, to pass. Normally the word is used literally in the Bible, but can be used to mean to end or cease, such as in Melachim 1:15:12. (It does not refer to death in the Bible, but does in the Mishnah, such as Avot 5:21).

There are four possible poetic reasons for the use of the word in this context: (1) It alliterates nicely with the next clause, how many will be born, “kamah yibarei’un”. (2) It can also be translated “how many will be forgiven,” as G-d passes over the sin, as in Micha 7:18, the final words of the Haftara of Shabbat Shuva. (3) The root had been used earlier in the piyyut twice for the sheep passing before the shepherd and once for G-d’s judgment of humanity, and so it echoes the earlier paragraph; the root will be used later when describing the passing shade. See also note 1. (4) It provides poetic variation from the word for death, used in the next line.[
[14] It is beyond the scope of this essay to consider Judaism’s view if people have set lifespans destined to them or not. This line implies they have a set lifespan that can be shortened in the event of sin. See Rashi to Genesis 5:24, 15:15, 17:14, Iyov 4:18 who describes death before a set time, often using the phrase “before his time” that is not found in the earlier Midrashim.
[15] Rabbi Soloveitchik’s custom was to follow Heidenheim, 77b and to reverse the order of these two clauses, possible preferring to preserve the order of the verse (Tehillim 66:12), over the idea of keeping the worse death second.
[16] See Daniel Goldschmidt, Mahzor Le-Yamim Noraim (Jerusalem: Academy, 1970), 169-172 and the alternative versions cited therein.
[17] A note on the Biblical sources for the wording. The verb “to rest” is found often in the Bible. The verb “to move around,” n-u-`, appears in many occasions in the Bible, meaning to move around but also to be scared or to shake. When the word appears in passive voice (such as Amos 9:9 and Nahum 3:12) it means to be shaken by others. Here, the word is in the standard active form and would mean to move around (as in Tehillim 109:10, 107:27). In Hebrew grammar, to move and to rest are opposites, as they name the two types of Sheva’s: a voiced (na`) and unvoiced (nach) one, though in Biblical and Mishnaic Hebrw they are not opposites. The author is juxtaposing the words based on how they appear in grammar, not in the Bible.
[18] It is not intuitive that these two would be opposites. The verb sh-k-t is often the opposite of going to war (or ironically, the previous verb, to move around, see Isaiah 7:2-4), not being torn.

A note on the grammar and word choice:

Goldschmidt vowelizes the first word in hiphil form, “yashkit,” “make quiet” as in Psalms 15:18, Isaiah 7:4. Heidenheim vowelizes the word in the niphal form, “yishakeit,” but the word never takes that form in the Bible.

Goldschmidt vowelizes the second word in pual form, “yetoraf” as in Genesis 37:33, 44:28.

Heidenheim vowelizes the word in the niphal form, “yitareif” as in Exodus 22:12.
[19] A note on the Biblical sources for the wording: Sh-l-v appears in the Bible in verb form only once (Job 3:26), although it does appear in noun and adjective form a few times. It appears here in the niphal form, “yishaleiv,” be made serene. Y-s-r means to be punished or rebuked. It appears here it hitpael form, see Ezekiel 23:48.
[20] A note on the grammar and word choice: The verb to become wealthy `-sh-r normally appears in the hiphil form in Tanach, and for Goldschmit takes that form here, “ya`ahir” as in Psalms 49:17. Heidenheim vowelizes the word in the niphal form, “yeiasheir.”

The notion G-d causes wealth and poverty also appears in Shmuel 1:2:7 but in slightly different verbiage “Hashem morish u-ma`ashir.” The two Mahzorim also disagree about whether the other word is vowelized yeiani or ya`ani.”
[21] “Yarum” means to rise up, as in Tehilim 27:6 and elsewhere. Heidenheim has “yishapeil” in niphal while Goldschmidt has yeshupal in pual. The Tanach uses a third form, yashpil in hiphil (Tehillim 75:8).
[22] Rabbi Soloveitchik’s custom was only to reverse the final pair.
[23] I discuss this prophecy at length, while also applying it to its historical context, in Isaiah and his Contemporaries, (Kodesh Press, 2023), 44-46.
[24] See also Rashi to Devarim 7:7 for further discussion of this idea.
[25] Ironically, Psalms 136:23 can be read either way, that being lowly is a meritorious condition that led G-d to recall us, or a pathetic condition that similarly caused G-d to recall us. Daniel 4:14 has similar ambivalence.
[26] Truth is God’s signature, Shabbat 55b. Some Chazanim highlight the central role truth plays in the piyyut by beginning to read out loud from this word, the two times it begins a sentence. Ohr Zarua` sees in this line an acceptance of G-d’s true justice that even when the bad decree befalls us, we still deserve what happens to us.
[27] Using the same word, kitzvah, used early to refer to the set time of the lives of the various creatures.
[28] The song ends with praise of G-d’s name, the Tetragrammaton, which captures how God is eternal and does not change. This impacts the process of repentance and punishment in two ways. First, because G-d does not change, the judgment is always truthful; He is not given over to fits of improper anger and the like. Second, because God is eternal, He has no need to hasten to anger and can wait, because there will always be future opportunities for punishment (Rashi Devarim 32:43), and so the individual has time for repentance.

The piyyut says we cannot express the hidden aspects of the name, see Pesahim 50a.
[29] Artscroll connects this line to Rashi Bamidbar 26:5. Heidenheim connects it to Jeremiah 14:9 or Devarim 28:10. It also may be that the line is inspired by none of these sources. Whatever the origin of the phrase, it clearly speaks to our relationship with G-d.




Yaakov Mark and Two Episodes from Vilna’s Great Synagogue Related to Yom Kippur

Yaakov Mark and Two Episodes from Vilna’s Great Synagogue Related to Yom Kippur

David Livni was born in Vilna in 1870. He was educated in traditional Orthodox schools and joined the proto-Zionist Hovevi Tzion movement. In 1906, he and his wife and five children moved to Israel. The children were among the first students of Herzliya Gymnasium, and David was one of the founders of Tel Aviv and its Great Synagogue. He served on its board until he fell out with its leadership regarding financial matters. Construction of the synagogue began in 1920. Delays, design challenges, and a lack of funding caused the construction to proceed at a snail’s pace, well behind schedule. According to Livni, a significant issue was the board’s leadership. In a pamphlet he self-published in early 1927, Binyan bet-ha-keneset ha-gadol be-Tel-Aviv: ṿe-taʻalule ha-gabaʼim, he accused the chairman and his son-in-law (who was also on the board), of gross mismanagement and even misappropriation of construction funds. Additionally, Livni alleges that the chairman filled the board with “yes men” and could rule unchecked. Construction was finally completed in 1930, although with all the changes, the resulting building is a hodgepodge of architectural styles.

Courtesy of the Hebraica Section of the Library of Congress’ African and Middle Eastern Division

In 1928, he began publishing a series in Ha’aretz newspaper describing the Vilna that he remembered. These were eventually collected and published in book format, Yerushalayim de-Lita, in 1930, in two volumes (available here and here). On September 23, 1928, the day before Yom Kippur, his article, “Yom ha-Kippur in Vilna Over Forty Years Ago,” appeared in Ha’aretz. He describes a unique custom of the Great Synagogue of Vilna. The Magid Mesharim would give a sermon the night before Erev Yom Kippur. Livni relates one of those occasions when “R. Yankel Charif (the Gaon R. Yaakov Yosef),” delivered the sermon. R. Yaakov Yosef is best known for his later sojourn to the United States to take up the position of the “Chief Rabbi of New York,” he initially served as rabbi in three Lithuanian towns and, in 1883, was selected as Vilna’s official Maggid, preacher. The moniker “charif” referred to his quick mind and was bestowed upon him during his time in Volozhin Yeshiva.

Title Page of Yerushalim de-Lita from the copy Livni gifted to Dr. Moshe Glickson, the founder and editor of Haaretz, where the articles originally appeared.

Jacob Mark, in his collection of biographies from 1927, originally in Yiddish, Gedoylim fun unzer tsayt: monografyes, karakter-shtrikhen un zikhroynes, and partially translated into Hebrew in 1957, Bi-meḥitsatam shel gedole ha-dor : biografiyot, sipurim, imrot ve-sihot holin shel gedole Yisraʼel ba-dor ha-kodem, devotes a chapter to R. Yosef. According to Mark, by the time R. Yosef arrived in the United States, he was well into his decline, and when he arrived, he had “lost his harifus, the power of his sermons, and his power of Torah.” Mark, therefore, limits his discussion to R. Yosef’s European years.

Mark knew R. Yosef personally. They met when R. Yosef moved to Zhagory and assumed the position of the town’s rabbi where Mark lived. R. Yosef was a student of R. Yisrael Salanter and “among the first young rabbis to spread R. Yisrael’s approach – that a rabbi’s purpose is not to decided legal issues and engage in intellectual debates with scholars – rather to relate to the people and improve their character and bring them closer to Judaism; in fact, this might be [the rabbi’s] fundamental purpose.” Consequently, R. Yosef devoted considerable time honing his sermonic skills and deliberately sought out the commoner. Mark suggests that R. Yosef was particularly suited for this role because he did not come from a rabbinic lineage. Instead, his family was poor and seeing his father struggle to make a living and yet spend freely on R. Yosef’s education impressed upon him that simple Jews have a special love of the Torah and sacrifice even more than middle-class Jews. R. Yosef incorporated these themes in his sermons.

R. Yosef published some of his sermons in 1888 in Vilna. But they are of the more traditional rabbinic type and do not necessarily display the unique nature of his speaking style. However, the Erev Yom Kippur sermon Livni recounts preserves an example of R. Yosef’s oratory emphasis on the people and expresses his love and appreciation of them.

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef’s Sermon on the Eve of Yom Kippur

Livni begins by describing R. Yosef’s humility and that he conveys that despite his lofty position, he is uncertain of his worth,

and is not sure of his life, like our brothers. The Israelites in Romania and Morocco (he means Russia) are not sure of their lives; they make a living like a dog picking up bones under the table of strangers, rolling in the garbage, being deported, and being beaten like dogs.

At that moment, it was as if the spirit of God was hovering in the space above the synagogue, over the crowd of three thousand heads, all turned and lifted their eyes toward the speaker. They were crowded and glued side by side, standing on their feet and swallowing every word from Rabbi Yankili’s mouth. And Rabbi Yankili is standing next to the Aron Ha-Kodesh, his palms outstretched towards the people, his eyes closed, his mouth producing pearls, … his sharpness dripping from his mouth like pure gold, worshiping the heart, going down the stomach chambers, coming out of the heart and entering the heart sometimes like hot coals, sometimes like life-giving dew. At that time, he appears like Ish Elokhim – his face is holy. Rabbi Yankili does not provoke the people to revenge, and he does not sow hatred toward the nations of the world, who shed the blood of Israel like water. He neither absolves them from sin for money nor pecuniary reward….

Yom Kippur itself is the most reliable bill of forgiveness and atonement for transgressions between a person and a guarantor – Erev Yom Kippur is the surest deed for transgressions between a person and his friend. All the fasts, ha-chagim, ha-mo’adim, whether of Shabbat or Shabbat Shabbaton – Yom Ha-Kippurim – [pale in comparison to Erev Yom Kippur]. No nation or language can imitate one day a year – the eve of Yom Kippur.

Morai ve-Rabbosai! The world’s nations reconcile with each other and ask for forgiveness through fire and blood, through the war between themselves. And us? – Through asking for forgiveness between a man and his friend on the eve of Yom Kippur. The world’s nations accepted the statement: “By your sword, you will live!” And we: “ve-chai bahem,” “and live by them,” and you shall not die by them. Morai ve-Rabbosai! It is written: ‘ve-amcha kulum tzadikim ‘and among you all are righteous,’ and who is called righteous? The one who annuls the decrees of the Almighty! The Almighty decrees on the human beings: that they will starve for bread, that they will get sick, that they will die of hunger [], that their children will roll in the streets without the Torah, that their babies and their sucklings will wallow in the open air, that their sons and daughters will be subject to another people, to an immoral culture. The Almighty decrees, and the righteous person comes and cancels: he distributes his bread for hunger, builds a hospital, a nursing home, Talmud Torah, yeshivot, children’s homes, and evening classes for craftsmen. The man who sits within the four cubits of the Halacha, wrapped in a Talis crowned with tefillin, is not called a righteous person but a hasid. Tzadki HaShem be-kol derakhav ve-hasid. He starts as a tzaddik and eventually a Hasid. Every Jew is considered a Tzadik. Who is the Jew who has not given and will not give charity to people experiencing poverty tomorrow? Who is the nation, and what is it, that distributes charity in one day, in a quarter of a day, like the Jewish nation on Erev Yom Kippur, with a generous hand and pure heart?

Rabbi Yankili stands and pleads and calls the people to repent of regret for the past and to accept the future; he does not demand asceticism, does not impose fines, does not decree haramos, does not step on the head of the people with arrogance or ego. He stands and beseeches for the good of the people of Israel before our Father in Heaven, like the Kohen Gadol in his time, in the holiest of holies. He asks for mercy on behalf of the people of Israel – a life in which there is no shame and a dignified livelihood, neither by smuggling the border customs nor by despicable and dangerous businesses, which blacken the face of the Israeli nation like the rim of a cauldron, a year of salvation and comfort without the pain of raising children.

Morai ve-Rabbosai! Hear our voice, God and God… the voice of the drowning son in a sea of ​​troubles, troubles from the outside: persecutions, evil decrees, riots in Romania and Morocco (that is, Russia), and internal troubles: the pains of raising children, hatred for nothing, seeking honor, whistleblowers.”

Morai ve-Rabbosai! Rather than asking our holy Torah to advocate on our behalf, we will ask for forgiveness from her for hurting her honor. Morai ve-Rabbosai! We will bow our heads before our Torah, our Mother, the Mother of all religions and teachings. We will appease our Mother with our Torah, have mercy on the only son, on the people of Israel, and grant that we may fulfill all the Torah’s commandments, including those that depend on the land. And we will be able to return to our country and renew our days as before, as before, as before”!!!

Lately, I must ask for forgiveness from you, teachers, and gentlemen: I woke up and woke you up from your deep slumber like the sun with its hammer that makes the summer sleepy and awakens the sleepers. How bitter, how many vain words I poured over your heads, like vomit. As Kohelet repeats: “This too is vanity, and this too is striving after nothing,” saying and repeating and saying: “vanity vanity vanity vanity.” Why does he have to repeat several times vanity, vanity, all vanity? Wasn’t it enough for him at the end of the book: “Vanity, vanity said Ecclesiastes everything is vain!” Because the sum of zeros, whether one or many, is still zero. But there is a big difference between one zero and many if you add one number before them – all of the meaningless things, the zero, can be elevated and become significant when you add “the One” before them. Ultimately, everything is heard (all of the zeros) – fear God!

Livni finishes by saying, “When Rabbi Yankili Harif opened the Ark of the Covenant, a loud howl erupted in the audience, and the entire building was filled with courage and trembling.”

Cholera and Yom Kippur: 1848

Some forty years earlier, another dramatic event occurred in Vilna’s Great Synagogue, this one on Yom Kippur itself. Like the one above, we are indebted to Yaakov Mark and his book. In this instance, it provides the only eyewitness account of an episode that, in its various retellings, underwent unverifiable and imprecise metamorphoses.

There were at least four major cholera outbreaks during the nineteenth century in the Russian Empire. One of the most severe began in 1847, and by the time it subsided in 1851, it killed over one million in the Empire. By 1848, it had reached Vilna, and the question arose of whether one should fast on Yom Kippur. The structure of the first two major surveys of Vilna Jewish history are biographies of significant personalities interlaced with historical research and expositions. The first, Shmuel Yosef Fuenn’s Kiryat Ne’amanah, published in 1860, with an introduction and extensive endnotes by R. Mattityahu Strashun, and the second, Hillel Noach Steinschneider’s Ir Vilna, published in 1900. Steinschneider’s begins where Fuenn’s ends. Fuenn’s second wife was among those who perished of cholera in 1848.

Imaging of the podium at the Great Synagogue of Vilnius, İmage: UAB Inlusion Netforms.

An archeological team recently uncovered the floor of the Bimah.  See here for a description of their find as well as earlier findings. Loïc Salfati produced a full-length documentary on the history of the Great Synagogue and the excavations.

The 1848 episode first appears in Steinschneider, and he provides that before Yom Kippur, broadsides were posted throughout Vilna proclaiming that one can eat on Yom Kippur, the piyyutim should be shortened and that people should spend time outdoors to get fresh air. According to Steinschneider, on Yom Kippur, after Shachris, in the Great Synagogue, where there were some three thousand congregants, R. Yisrael Salanter ascended the Bimah with a piece of cake and made the boreh mineh mezonos blessing and ate it. In a footnote, he records that one of the congregation’s leaders objected to R. Yisrael’s unilateral decision to publicly violate Yom Kippur without the consent of the leading Rabbis. Despite Steinschneider’s general reliability, this is one instance where the details are apparently incorrect. Steinschneider does not cite anyone or any source for his retelling of this episode. Indeed, the description is internally inconsistent. If the widely distributed broadsides before the holiday explicitly declared that “one should not fast on Yom Kippur,” what was the objection to R. Yisrael’s behavior and the rationale that the Rabbis did not otherwise agree? Moreover, even one permitted to eat on Yom Kippur generally can only less than a shiur, pachos pachos, and Reb Yisrael allegedly ate “a cake” without regard to size.

Mark, unlike Steinschneider, presents the episode differently, which is more consistent with the legal details and, most critically, from an eyewitness. Mark acknowledges other versions — including Steinschneider’s — and argues that these “are not factually accurate,.” They are only “legends.” Mark’s source was R. Shimon Strashun, a prominent member of Vilna’s Jewish community (and a distant relative of R. Shmuel Strashun), “who was an eyewitness in the shul.” Strashun told Mark that “prior to Yom Kippur, Reb Yisrael, with the agreement of the Moreh Tzedek, placed broadsides in all the shuls, that because of the cholera epidemic, they would not say the additional piyutim and, instead sit outside in the fresh air. In the foyers of the shuls, they should put out small amounts of cake, less than a shiur, to use when necessary. On Yom Kippur, after Shachris, R. Yisrael ascended the Bimah of the Great Synagogue and announced to the congregation that anyone who feels weak does not need to ask a doctor and may go to the foyers to eat, but to only eat with breaks [i.e. pachos pachos] and avoid violating the Biblical prohibition. Immediately after R. Yisrael descended from the Bimah, the chief Moreh Horaah, Reb Betzalel, went up to the Bimah and protested, in the name of the Moreh Horaah, [Reb Yisrael’s position] that one is not required to first consult a Rabbi before eating. But the truth is that Reb Yisrael never ate anything.”

Mark’s retelling is consistent with the general legal principles governing a person who is ill, albeit with a controversy regarding consulting a rabbi before breaking someone’s fast during a communal plague. There is no explicit contradiction between the broadsides and Reb Yisrael’s or Reb Betzalel HaKohen’s positions. Instead, it appears that the broadsides, whether due to oversight or that it was unnecessary, did not specifically address whether one must consult a rabbi.

Notes: I am grateful for Sharon Horowitz of the Hebraica section at the Library of Congress for providing the scans of Livni’s pamphlet.

The Hebrew translation of Mark’s work is a substantially abridged version that omits the second portion devoted to “masklim,” with the exception of R. Mattityahu Strashun. Additionally, even the translated portion is shortened, and, in some instances sections and words are omitted that censor potentially controversial materials. But there are no significant changes in the Hebrew version for both episodes discussed here.

The various versions of the Reb Yisrael Salanter episode are collected by Nathan Kamenetsky, in Making of a Godol, vol. I, (2002), 1104-1121. Nonetheless, his attempts to reconcile the discrepancies and harmonize the various versions is unconvincing. Dr. Leiman discusses this at length in his speech that is available here.

For a general discussion regarding plagues and the Jewish responses see Jermey Brown, The Eleventh Plague: Jews and Pandemics from the Bible to COVID-19 (Oxford University Press, New York: 2023) (see pp. 151-53, for his discussion of the Reb Yisrael Salanter episode); see also Eliezer Brodt, “Towards a Bibliography of Coronavirus Related Articles & Seforim Written in the Past Month (Updated): Black Wedding and Other Segulot,” Seforim Blog, May 4, 2020.

 




Maimonides on Free Will, Divine Omniscience and Repentance

Maimonides on Free Will, Divine Omniscience and Repentance

Ben Zion Katz

The problem of reconciling the notions of man’s free will and Divine omniscience is an ancient one. As early as Mishna Avot 3:15 Rabbi Akiva states that “everything is known [by God] but permission (i.e. free will) is given [to people]”. Maimonides begins to tackle this question in his Laws of Repentance (הלכות תשובה) from Book One (The Book of Science סּפּר המדע) of the Mishnah Torah. In chapter 5 paragraph 5 Maimonides brings up the conundrum of Divine Omniscience vs human free will: How can people have free will if God knows the future? Maimonides insists that one who claims that God does not know people’s (future) actions is a heretic (Chapter 3 paragraph 8). He also claims that there is no doubt that people have free will (מעשה האדם ביד האדם) and that there are clear philosophical proofs (ראיות ברורות מדברי החכמה) for this. So how can these two competing concepts be explained? Maimonides insists that there is an answer, but that it is quite complicated/long (תשובת שאלה זו ארוכה). In the Mishnah Torah itself Maimonides only hints at a possible solution, stating that God’s knowledge is different (כי לא מחשבותי מחשבותיכם; Isaiah 55:8).

To pursue this matter further, one must turn to the Rambam’s philosophical masterpiece, The Guide of the Perplexed, where in Book Three, Chapter 20 Maimonides explains this idea further: that God’s knowledge is different from human knowledge because ”His knowledge is His essence and His essence is his knowledge” (Shlomo Pines, Moses Maimonides The Guide of the Perplexed, University of Chicago Press, 1963, hereafter “Pines”, p. 481). The reason for this is that “His knowledge is not a thing … outside of His essence” (Pines, p. 482). In simpler terms, for people, knowledge is separate from their being, but this is not true for God. A consequence of this idea, according to Maimonides is that “His knowledge concerning what will happen does not make this possible thing quit its nature” (Pines, p. 482). In other words, if human nature includes free will, the fact that God knows what will happen does not in any way abrogate that free will. Stated differently, if an event has two possible outcomes, “God’s knowledge…does not bring about the actualization of one of the two possibilities” (Pines, p. 483).

Several examples are often given to explain this difficult concept. The first is that if one is atop a mountain and sees two trains at right angles hurtling towards each other, foreknowledge of the impending collision does not in any way effect the outcome. The second, more philosophical approach is that for God who does not change, time is meaningless; future and past are equivalent. Therefore, just as one’s knowledge of the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo does not affect its outcome, so too God’s knowledge of future events does not affect their outcome. Thus God can be omniscient in a way we cannot fully comprehend, man can have free will, people have the capacity to repent and God can still punish evildoers.

This question of free will vs God’s omniscience comes up again in a different way in chapter 6 of the Laws of Repentance, paragraph 3, where Maimonides discusses the difficult question of the stiffening of Pharoah’s heart, a common trope in the story of the Exodus (see Exodus 4:21 and the discussion therein in Nahum Sarna, The JPS Torah Commentary Exodus, Jewish Publication Society, 1991, p. 23). Here again, the question is: if God stiffens Pharoah’s resolve, why was Pharoah deserving of God’s punishment? It seems as if Pharoah had no free will in the matter. Maimonides also discusses the fact that God prophesied to Abraham that Abraham’s descendants (the Israelites) will be oppressed by the Egyptians (Genesis 15:13). If this oppression was pre-ordained, how could God then exact punishment upon the Egyptians (Genesis 15:14) since seemingly God’s omniscience rules out free will on the part of the Egyptians? Maimonides answers the latter question in paragraph 5 of chapter 6 of the Laws of Repentance by explaining that God’s prophecy concerned the Egyptians as a nation but not individual Egyptians. Thus, presumably only those Egyptians who chose to torment the Israelites would be punished. Maimonides answers the first question regarding the stiffening or hardening of Pharoah’s heart by explaining that after Pharoah repeatedly sinned, part of his punishment was God’s withholding from Pharoah the latter’s ability to repent.

Thus, as has been pointed out by many others, Maimonides had a single philosophical program running through all of his major works (see e.g., Herbert Davidson, Moses Maimonides: The Man and His Works, Oxford University Press 2005, pp. 303-4). By reading about similar themes both in the Mishnah Torah and the Guide of the Perplexed, one can obtain a better idea of Maimonides’ contributions to Jewish thought. Using this approach we have shown that Maimonides was able to retain expansive concepts of Divine omniscience and man’s free will, and demonstrate the importance of repentance even if God “knows” whether or not you are actually going to repent.




Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven: The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition

Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven: The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition
The Seforim Blog is reposting Dan Rabinowitz’s post from 2018.
On April 23, 1902, the cornerstone to the Taharat Ha-Kodesh synagogue was laid, and on Rosh Ha-Shana the next year, September 7, 1903, the synagogue was officially opened. The synagogue building was on one of Vilna’s largest boulevards and constructed in a neo-Moorish architectural style, capped with a blue cupola that was visible for blocks. There was a recessed entry with three large arches and two columns. The interior housed an impressive ark, located in a semi-circular apse and covered in a domed canopy. But what really set the synagogue apart from the other 120 or so places to pray in Vilna was that above the ark, on the first floor, were arched openings that served the choir. In fact, it was generally referred to by that feature and was known as the Choral Synagogue. The congregants were orthodox, most could be transported to any modern Orthodox synagogue and they would indistinguishable, in look – dressing in contemporary styles, many were of the professional class, middle to upper middle class, and they considered themselves maskilim, or what we might call Modern Orthodox.[1]

The incorporation of the choir should be without controversy. Indeed, the Chief Rabbi of Vilna, Yitzhak Rubenstein would alternate giving his sermon between the Great Synagogue, or the Stut Shul [City Synagogue], and the Choral Synagogue.[2] Judaism can trace a long relationship to music and specifically the appreciation, and recognition of the unique contribution it brings to worship. Some identify biblical antecedents, such as Yuval, although he was not specifically Jewish. Of course, David and Solomon are the early Jews most associated with music. David used music for religious and secular purposes – he used to have his lyre play to wake him at midnight, the first recorded instance of an alarm clock. Singing and music was an integral part of the temple service, and the main one for the Levite class who sang collectively, in a choir. With the destruction of the temple, choirs, and music, in general, was separated from Judaism. After that cataclysmic event, we have little evidence of choirs and even music. Indeed, some argued that there was an absolute ban on music extending so far as to prohibit singing.

It would not be until the early modern period in the 16th century that choirs and music began to play a central role in Jewish ritual, and even then, it was limited – and was associated with modernity or those who practiced a more modern form of the religion.
Rabbi Leon (Yehudah Aryeh) Modena (1571-1648) was one of the most colorful figures in the Jewish Renaissance. Born in Venice, he traveled extensively among the various cities in the region.[3] He authored over 15 books, and made his living teaching and preaching in synagogues, schools, and private homes; composing poems on commission for various noblemen; and as an assistant printer. In 1605, he was living in Ferrara where an incident occurred in the synagogue that kickstarted the collective reengagement with music. Modena explained that “we have six or eight knowledgeable men, who know something about the science of song, i.e. “[polyphonic] music,” men of our congregation (may their Rock keep and save them), who on holidays and festivals raise their voices in the synagogue and joyfully sing songs, praises, hymns and melodies such as Ein Keloheinu, Aleinu Leshabeah, Yigdal, Adon Olam etc. to the glory of the Lord in an orderly relationship of the voices according to this science [polyphonic music]. … Now a man stood up to drive them out with the utterance of his lips, answering [those who enjoyed the music], saying that it is not proper to do this, for rejoicing is forbidden, and song is forbidden, and hymns set to artful music have been forbidden since the Temple was destroyed.[4]
Modena was not cowed by this challenge and wrote a lengthy resposum to defend the practice which he sent to the Venetian rabbinate and received their approbation. But that did not put the matter to rest.
In 1610, as he approached forty, Modena received his ordination from the Venetian rabbis and settled in Venice to serve not only as a rabbi but as a cantor, with his pleasant tenor voice. In around 1628 in the Venetian ghetto, an academy of music was organized with Modena serving as the Maestro di Caeppella . Both in name and motto that academy embraced its subversive nature. It was called the Academia degli Impediti, the Academy of the Hampered, named in derision of the traditional Jewish reluctance to perform music because of “the unhappy state of captivity which hampers every act of competence.” In this spirit, especially in light of Modena’s responsum on music in 1605, the Accademia took the Latin motto Cum Recordaremur Sion, and in Hebrew, Bezokhrenu et Tzion, when we remembered Zion, based paradoxically on Psalm 137, one of the texts invoked against Jewish music: “We hung up our harps…. How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”
On Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah in October 1628, a spectacular musical performance was held in the Spanish synagogue, which had been decorated with silver and jewels. Two choirs from the academy sang artistic Hebrew renderings of the afternoon service, the evening service, and some Psalms. Their extensive repertoire lasted a few hours. A throng of Christian noblemen and ladies attended the Simchat Torah service. The applause was great, and police had to guard the gates to ensure order
Beyond his musical endeavors, Modena also served as an expert in Hebrew publishing. The two would create a confluence that enabled the first modern Jewish book of music.
For Rabbi Leon Modena, his young friend, the musician Salamone Rossi, would herald the Jewish re-awakening. We know very little about Rossi’s life. He was born circa 1570 and died sometime after 1628, possibly in 1630. He is listed as a violinist and composer on the payroll of the Gonzaga dukes, rulers of Mantua, and was associated with a Jewish theater company, as composer or performer or both. In addition, Rossi was also writing motets – short pieces of sacred music typically polyphonic and unaccompanied – for the synagogue using contemporary Italian and church styles. He was specifically encouraged in this endeavor by Modena, who urged the composer to have this music published so that it could have an even greater impact.[5] In 1622 the publishing house of Bragadini in Venice issued thirty-three of Rossi’s synagogue motets in a collection, Shirim asher le-Shlomo, that Modena edited. This extraordinary publication represented a huge innovation. First, the use of musical notations that required a particularly thorny issue to be resolved right versus left. Rossi decided to keep the traditional musical notational scheme and provide those from left to right and write the Hebrew backward, because the latter would be more familiar to the reader. Second, it was the first time the Hebrew synagogue liturgy had ever been set as polyphonic choral music. Polyphony in the Christian church had begun centuries earlier. Rossi’s compositions sound virtually indistinguishable from a church motet, except for one thing: the language is Hebrew – the lyrics are from the liturgy of the synagogue, where this music was performed.
There was bound to be a conflict between the modern Jews who had been influenced by the Italian Renaissance and who supported this innovation, and those with a more conservative theology and praxis. But the antagonism towards music, especially non-traditional music, remained strong. Anticipating objections over Rossi’s musical innovations, and perhaps reflecting discussions that were already going on in Venice or Mantua, Modena wrote a lengthy preface included the responsum he wrote in 1605 in Ferrara in support of music in which he refuted the arguments against polyphony in the synagogue. “Shall the prayers and praises of our musicians become objects of scorn among the nations? Shall they say that we are no longer masters of the art of music and that we cry out to the God of our fathers like dogs and ravens?”3 Modena acknowledged the degraded state of synagogue music in his own time but indicates that it was not always so. “For wise men in all fields of learning flourished in Israel in former times. All noble sciences sprang from them; therefore, the nations honored them and held them in high esteem so that they soared as if on eagles’ wings. Music was not lacking among these sciences; they possessed it in all its perfection and others learned it from them. … However, when it became their lot to dwell among strangers and to wander to distant lands where they were dispersed among alien peoples, these vicissitudes caused them to forget all their knowledge and to be devoid of all wisdom.”
In the same essay, he quotes Emanuel of Rome, a Jewish poet from the early fourteenth century, who wrote, “What does the science of music say to the Christians? ‘Indeed, I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews.’” Using the words of Joseph from the book of Genesis, Modena was hinting that the rituals and the music of the Catholic church had been derived from those of ancient Israel, an assertion that has been echoed by many scholars. Although it can be argued that Modena indulges in hyperbole, both ancient and modern with some attributing the earliest ritual music to Obadiah the convert who noted a Jewish prayer that was only then appropriated for use in Gregorian chants.[6]
Directly addressing the naysayers, Modena wrote that “to remove all criticism from misguided hearts, should there be among our exiles some over-pious soul (of the kind who reject everything new and seek to forbid all knowledge which they cannot share) who may declare this [style of sacred music] forbidden because of things he has learned without understanding, … and to silence one who made confused statements about the same matter. He immediately cites the liturgical exception to the ban on music. Who does not know that all authorities agree that all forms of singing are completely permissible in connection with the observance of the ritual commandments? … I do not see how anyone with a brain in his skull could cast any doubt on the propriety of praising God in song in the synagogue on special Sabbaths and on festivals. … The cantor is urged to intone his prayers in a pleasant voice. If he were able to make his one voice sound like ten singers, would this not be desirable? … and if it happens that they harmonize well with him, should this be considered a sin? … Are these individuals on whom the Lord has bestowed the talent to master the technique of music to be condemned if they use it for His glory? For if they are, then cantors should bray like asses and refrain from singing sweetly lest we invoke the prohibition against vocal music.
No less of an authority than the Shulhan Arukh, explains that “when a cantor who stretches out the prayers to show off his pleasant voice, if his motivation is to praise God with a beautiful melody, then let him be blessed, and let him chant with dignity and awe.” And that was Rossi’s exact motivation to “composed these songs not for my own honor but for the honor of my Father in heaven who created this soul within me. For this, I will give thanks to Him evermore.” The main thrust of Modena’s preface was to silence the criticisms of the “self-proclaimed or pseudo pious ones” and “misguided hearts.”
Modena’s absurdist argument – should we permit the hazzan to bray like an ass – is exactly what a 19th-century rabbi, Rabbi Yosef Zechariah Stern, who was generally opposed to the Haskalah – and some of the very people who started the Choral Synagogue, espoused. Stern argues that synagogal singing is not merely prohibited but is a cardinal sin. To Stern, such religious singing is only the practice of non-Jews who “strive to glorify their worship in their meeting house [בית הכנסת שלהם] so that it be with awe, and without other intermediaries that lead to distraction and sometimes even to lightheadedness. In the case of Jews, however, there is certainly be a desecration of G-d’s Name when we make the holy temple a place of partying and frivolity and a meeting house for men and women … in prayer. there is no place for melodies [נגונים], only the uttering of the liturgy with gravity [כובד ראש] … to do otherwise is the way of arrogance, as one who casts off the yoke, where the opposite is required: submission, awe and gravity, and added to this because of the public desecration of G-d’s Name – a hillul ha-Shem be-rabbim.” (For more on this responsum see here.)
Similarly, even modern rabbis, for example, R. Eliezer Waldenberg, who died in 2006, also rejected Modena’s position, because of modernity. Although in this instance, not because of the novelty or the substance of Modena’s decision but because of the author’s lifestyle. Modena took a modern approach to Jewish life and was guilty of such sins as not wearing a yarmulke in public and permitting ball playing on Shabbos.
Despite these opinions, for many Orthodox Jews, with some of the Yeshivish or Haredi communities as outliers, song is well entrenched in the services, no more so than on the Yomim Noraim. Nor is Modena an outlier rabbinic opinion of the value of music and divine service. No less of an authority than the Vilna Gaon is quoted as highly praising music and that it plays a more fundamental role to Judaism that extends well beyond prayer. Before we turn to the latter point it is worth noting that at times Jewish music was appropriated by non-Jews – among the most important composers, Beethoven. One the holiest prayer of Yom Kippur, Kol Nedri, is most well-known not for the text (which itself poses many issues) but the near-universal tune. That tune, although not as repetitive in the prayer can be heard in the sixth movement of Beethoven’s Quartet in C# minor, opus 131 (you can hear a version here). One theory is in 1824, the Jews in Vienna were finally permitted to build their own synagogue and for the consecration asked Vienna’s most famous composer to write a piece of music.[7] Although Beethoven did not take the commission, he may have done some research on Jewish music and learned of this tune. We could ask now, is Beethoven playing a Jewish music?[8]
R. Yisrael M’Sklov, a student of the Gaon records that he urged the study of certain secular subjects as necessary for the proper Torah study, algebra and few other, but “music he praised more than the rest. He said that most of the fundamentals and secrets of the torah … the Tikkunei Zohar are impossible to understand without music, it is so powerful it can resurrect the dead with its properties. Many of these melodies and their corresponding secrets were among the items that Moshe brought when he ascended to Sinai.”[9]
In this, the Gaon was aligned with many Hassidim who regularly incorporated music into their rituals, no matter where the origin. Just one of many examples, Habad uses the tune to the French national anthem for the prayer Aderet ve-Emunah. The power of music overrides any considerations of origin. Indeed, they hold that not only can music affect us, but we can affect the music itself, we hold the power to transform what was impure, the source and make it pure. That is not simply a cute excuse, but the essence of what Hassidim view the purpose of Judaism, making holy the world. Music is no longer a method of attaining holiness, singing is itself holiness.[10]
Today in Vilna, of the over 140 places of worship before the Holocaust five shul buildings remain and only one shul is still in operation. That shul is the Choral Synagogue – the musical shul. Nonetheless not all as it should be. In the 1960s a rabbi from Israel was selected as the rabbi for the community and the shul. When he arrived, he insisted that choirs have no place in Judaism and ordered the choir arches sealed up. We, however, have the opportunity, as individuals and community to use the power of music to assist us on the High Holidays – that can be me-hayeh ma’tim.
[1] See Cohen-Mushlin, Synagogues in Lithuania N-Z, 253-61. For more on the founding of the congregation see Mordechai Zalkin, “Kavu le-Shalom ve-ain: Perek be-Toldot ha-Kneset ha-Maskili ‘Taharat ha-Kodesh be-Vilna,” in Yashan mi-Pnei Hadash: Mehkarim be-Toldot Yehudei Mizrah Eiropah u-ve-Tarbutam: Shai le-Imanuel Etkes, eds. David Asaf and Ada Rapoport-Albert (Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 2009) 385-403. The images are taken from Cohen-Mushlin.
[2] Hirsz Abramowicz, Profiles of a Lost World (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1999), 293.
[3] Regarding Modena see his autobiography, translated into English, The Autobiography of a Seventeenth Century Rabbi, ed. Mark Cohen (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988); and the collection of articles in The Lion Shall Roar: Leon Modena and his World, ed. David Malkiel, Italia, Conference Supplement Series, 1 (Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 2003).
[4] His responsum was reprinted in Yehuda Areyeh Modena, She’a lot u-Teshuvot Ziknei Yehuda, ed. Shlomo Simonsin (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1956), 15-20.
[5] See generally Don Harrán, Salamone Rossi: Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); Michelene Wandor, “Salamone Rossi, Judaism and the Musical Cannon,” European Judaism 35 (2002): 26-35; Peter Gradenwitz, The Music of Israel: From the Biblical Era to Modern Times 2nd ed. (Portland: Amadeus Press, 1996), 145-58.
The innovations of Rossi and Modena ended abruptly in the destruction of the Mantua Ghetto in 1630 and the dispersion of the Jewish community. The music was lost until the late 1800s when Chazzan Weintraub discovered it and began to distribute it once again.
[6] See Golb who questions this attribution and argues the reverse and also describes the earlier scholarship on Obadiah. Golb, “The Music of Obadiah the Proselyte and his Conversion,” Journal of Jewish Studies 18: 43-46.
[7] Such ceremonies were not confined to Austria. In Italy since the middle of the seventeenth century, special ceremonies for the dedication of synagogues had become commonplace. See Gradenwitz, Music of Israel, 159-60.
[8] Jack Gotlieb, Funny, It Doesn’t Sound Jewish, (New York: State University Press of New York, 2004), 17-18; see also Theodore Albrecht, “Beethoven’s Quotation of Kol Nerei in His String Quartet, op. 131: A Circumstantial Case for Sherlock Holmes,” in I Will Sing and Make Music: Jewish Music and Musicians Through the Ages, ed. Leonard Greenspoon (Nebraska: Creighton University Press, 2008), 149-165. For more on the history of the synagogue see Max Grunwald, Vienna (Philadephia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1936), 205-21.
[9] R. Yisrael M’Sklov, Pat ha-Shulhan (Sefat, 1836).
[10] See Mordechai Avraham Katz, “Be-Inyan Shirat Negunim ha-Moshrim etsel ha-Goyim,” Minhat ha-Kayits, 73-74. However, some have refused to believe that any “tzadik” ever used such tunes. Idem. 73. See also our earlier article discussing the use of non-Jewish tunes “Hatikvah, Shir HaMa’a lot, & Censorship.”



מנהג ה’תשליך’ מאת ר’ איתם הנקין הי”ד

מנהג התשליךמאת ראיתם הנקין היד

[הותקן לפרסום מתוך רשימה מכתי]

.מנהג התשליך מוזכר באופן ברור לראשונה בסוף המאה ה-14, בספר המנהגים לרבי יצחק אייזיק טירנא (סוף מנהגי ראש השנה, דה ושליח צבור“): “ורגילין לילך על הנהר ולומר תשוב תרחמינו וגו‘, ורואים דגים חיים

בסמוך לו לפניו מוזכר המנהג במהריל (מנהגים, הלכות ראש השנה אות ט‘): “מה שנוהגין לילך ברה אחר סעודה אצל ימים ונהרות להשליך במצולות ים כל חטאותינו, משום דאיתא במדרש זכר לעקדהומהרי סגל נהג גכ להלוך אצל הנהרות. ואמר, כשהולכין אל הנהרות ביום טוב אל יוליכו עמהם שום מזון כדי לזרוק אל הדגים שבנהרות להראות להם לשמוח בהן, דאית ביה חילול יוט…”. במקור זה לא נאמר שהיו אומרים אמירה כלשהי, ומתוך דבריו אנו שומעים שהיו מן העם שנהגו לזרוק בהזדמנות זו אוכל לדגים כדי להראות להם [ו]לשמוח בהן” (בדומה לדברי מהרי טירנא על כך שרואים דגים חיים“).

גם בלקט יושרלרבי יוסף בר משה, בן המאה ה-15, מוזכר מנהג זה כבדרך אגב, שרבו הרי איסרלין בעל תרומת הדשןלא הקפיד כל כך ללכת לתשליך: “ואינו מקפיד ככ אם אינו הולך לתשליך, אבל לפעמים הולך” (חא, אוח עמ‘ 131, עניין ד; מהדמכון שלמה אומן, עמרצד עניין נב). במקור זה אנו כבר מוצאים שהמנהג מכונה תשליך“, על שם הפסוק המרכזי הנאמר בו (מיכה ז יט).

הרמא מזכיר מנהג זה גם בספרו ההגותי – תורת העולה חג פרק נו: “מנהג ישראל תורה הוא, במה שהולכים על המים ואומרים תשליך במצולות ים כל חטאתם. להיות כי מן מצולות ים ניכר ענין בריאת העולם, כי מצולות ים הוא התהום, והוא המקום היותר עמוק בים, וכשאנו הולכים שם אנו רואים גבורתו של יוצר בראשית. ולכן אנו הולכים על המים בראש השנה שהוא יום הדין, לשים כל אחד על נפשו ענין בריאת העולם, ושהיתעלה מלך הארץ. ועל זה נאמר תשליך במצולות ים כל חטאתם, כי באמת המתבונן בענין מצולות ים ומכיר שהעולם מחודש, על ידי זה עומד על מציאות היתעלה, ומתחרט על ידי זה על כל עוונותיו וחטאיו נמחלים, ועל דרך זה נשלכים החטאים במצולות הים“.

קיימת במחקר סברה שהועלתה לראשונה עי יעקב צ. לאוטרבך (H.U.C.A כרך יא – 1936) שמקור המנהג בתיאור מתקופת הגאונים, המוזכר גם ברשי שבת פא עב: “בתשובת הגאונים מצאתי שעושין חותלות מכפות תמרים וממלאין אותם עפר וזבל בהמה, וכב או טו יום לפני רה עושין כל אחד ואחד לשם כל קטן וקטנה שבבית, וזורעים לתוכן פול המצרי או קיטנית וקורין לו פורפיסא וצומח. ובערב רה נוטל כל אחד שלו ומחזירו סביבות ראשו שבעה פעמים ואומר זה תחת זה וזה חליפתי וזה תמורתי ומשליכו לנהר“.

אולם מדובר בספקולציה בעלמא, שכן הקשר היחיד בין המתואר שם לבין מנהג התשליך הוא המילים ומשליכו לנהר“; כל השאר אינו קשור כלל, וגם מן הבחינה הגיאוגרפית והכרונולוגית אין כל דבר המחבר בין שני המנהגים. גם עצם הראיה מההשלכה לנהר הינה מפוקפקת, שכן רק במהריל מוזכר נוהג לזרוק למים דברים כלשהם בשעת התשליך‘, ואילו בספר המנהגים ובלקט יושר אין לכך זכר. ואף אם נניח שהמוזכר במהריל הוא המשקף את המנהג הרווח ביהודי אשכנז, עדיין מדובר במנהג בעל טעם אחר מוגדר – לזרוק אוכל לדגים כדי לראות אותם ולשמוח בהם – ושונה לחלוטין מטעם ההשלכה למים במנהג הגאונים.

מקור קדום וסביר יותר כהשראה למנהג זה, נדפס באוצר המדרשים של אייזנשטיין, עמ‘ 406: “…וכשם שהשלג מיד נעשה ממנו מים והולכים לים, כך עונותיו של אדם: מיד כשיעשה תשובה ימסו לְמים, שנאמר ‘[ו]תשליך במצולות ים כל חטאתם‘” (מדרש כמעט זהה מובא בפירושי סדור התפילה לרוקח, מהדאייזנבך, הוצמכון סודי רזיא ירושלים תשסד, עמתקה). מוזכר כאן הן הפסוק המרכזי שנאמר בתשליךושעל שמו קרוי המנהג, והן הרעיון הסמלי שהעוונות כָּלים במים – סמליות שמתבטאת באמירת הפסוק על הנהר.

מדרש דומה מובא בפסיקתא רבתי (מהדאיש שלום, סוף פיסקא מד), על הפסוק שובה ישראלהלקוח מן הפטרת השבת שבין ראש השנה ליום כיפור: “אמרו: רבונו של עולם, ומה את עושה לכל עונותינו? אמר להם: עשו תשובה והם נבלעים מן העולםאמרו לו: ולהיכן אתה משליכם? אמר להם: לים – שנאמר ישוב ירחמנו יכבוש עונותינו, ותשליך במצולות ים כל חטאתינו‘ (במקור: “כל חטאתם“)”. למעשה, פסוק זה כשלעצמו כבר מכיל את הרעיון הסמלי שבבסיס המנהג – השלכת החטאים לים – וייתכן אפוא שבזמן מסוים החלו באופן ספונטני לקיים את מנהג זה על בסיס הפסוק לבדו.

הקשר בין פסוק זה לימים הנוראים מוזכר כבר בסדר רב עמרם גאון, שם מובא הפסוק בתוך סדר אשמורות” – סדר הסליחות לעשרת ימי תשובה. מאוחר יותר, בספר מנהג מרשלייאהלרבי משה בר שמואל אחיינו של רבי יצחק בעל העיטור‘, מובאת התפילה יהי רצון מלפניך האלוקינו שתשליך [במצולות ים כל חטאותינו]” (מנהג מרשלייאה, סדר תפילת יום הכיפורים. בתוך: קובץ על יד, ספר כד, הוצחברת מקיצי נרדמים, ירושלים תשנח, עמ‘ 132).

ההתנגדות הראשונה לעצם מנהג התשליך הועלתה בזמן האחרונים, עי המטה אפרים (אלף המגן, על סיתקצח סק ז) והתוספות חיים (על בינת אדם, כלל קלט אות כז), ונבעה מסיבה צדדית: התקהלויות התשליך גרמו לתערובת גברים ונשים, ולכן הפוסקים הללו קראו לבטל את המנהג. גישה זו רמוזה כבר בהקדמה לספר צבי לצדיק“, שם מובא שהחכם צבי מנע מבנותיו ללכת לתשליך.

לנושא זה התייחס הערוך השלחן וקבע שיש למנוע מהנשים ללכת לתשליך, ואם יש תערובת גברים ונשים אזי אין ללכת כלל; והוסיף הערוהש שבלאו הכי יש בזמננוהנמנעים ללכת לתשליך מטעמים הידועים להם, “ונכון הוא“. במה מדובר? הערוהש סתם את דבריו, אך ניתן אולי לשער שהכוונה לתופעה שהיתה ידועה לאורך הדורות, והוא שהגויים האשימו את היהודים שהם מרעילים את המים, ואולי נתלו במנהג התשליך הנעשה על הנהר ומצאו בו הוכחהלטענתם. הרב שפרבר, מנהגי ישראל, חג, עמקכא, הערה 23, מביא כמה מקורות לעלילה הנוצרית הרווחת בשלהי ימי הביניים של הרעלת הבארות עי היהודים.

[הערת העורך: התנגדות הגרא, מתועדת בספר מעשה רב (אות רט), כי הגרא לא היה הולך לנהר או לבאר לומר תשליך“.]

כעין זה, אם כי בצורה שונה מעט, מובא בספר עמק ברכהלראברהם הורוויץ אבי השלה (מהדירושלים תשלז, עמקע), שאין לנער את הכיסים בתשליך ולחשוב שבכך העבירות מנוערות מן האדם, שכן הדבר מביא לחילול המצד הגויים המלעיגים על כך. וכך נאמר שם: “הגהה. ראוי לבטל מן האנשים שדעתן קלות כנשים, שאומרים בזה הלשון: איך וויל גיין מיין עבירות שיטלן [אני רוצה ללכת להשליך את העבירות שלי] ואוחזין בכנף בגדיהם ונוערין בהם, וסוברין בדעתן שעי זה יכול האדם לנער כל העבירות שעשה כל השנה. וחו לחשוב כן. וכן הוא באמת חילול שם גדול בפני האומות שיודעים מזה, ואם רואים היהודים שהולכים את הנהר אומרים דרך שחוק: היהודים הולכים שיטלן אירי זינד אין וואשר [להשליך את חטאיהם במים]. אלא אם רוצה לקיים המנהג יאמר בזה הלשון: איך וויל גיין תשליך מאכן [אני רוצה לקיים תשליך“]”.

[הערת העורך: בדיקה בדפוס הראשון של עמק ברכה“, קראקא שנז, העלתה כי פיסקה זו חסרה שם והיא תוספת ברכה של המול, נכד המחבר, ראברהם דיין מפוזנא בר ישעיהו סגל, במהדורה השנייה של הספר, שנדפסה באמשטרדם תפט.]




Musings on the Piyut היום הרת עולם

Musings on the Piyut היום הרת עולם

By Joseph Wertzberger

The following post is based in part on a lecture by Rabbi Ben Greenfield, newly installed Rabbi of the Greenpoint Shul, and several of its key ideas are his.

*  *  *

The poem היום הרת עולם is a very early piyut by an unknown author, appearing in writing as early as Siddur Rav Amram Ga’on, and is very widely recited after each of the sets of Tekiyot during the Shemonei Esrei of Mussaf on Rosh Hashana.  The poem is an elegy eloquently expressing the sense of fear, awe and dread in the uncertainty of judgement that the world experiences each year on the birthday of its creation.

היום הרת עולם

היום יעמיד במשפט

 כל יצורי עולמים

אם כבנים

אם כעבדים

אם כבנים רחמנו

כרחם אב על בנים

ואם כעבדים

 עינינו לך תלויות

 עד שתחננו

 ותוציא כאור משפטנו

איום קדוש

I’d like to help shed light on some of the wide-ranging, poetic meanings and allusions of the piyut, by examining the meanings of the words, phrases and concepts that appear, as well as their sources in Tanach and Chazal.  As we examine more closely the sources of these very short, alliterative phrases and ideas; alternate and variant layers of meaning present themselves to be revealed.

היום הרת עולם

The word הרת is commonly translated as birth, conception or (probably more accurately) gestation – from the root הָרָה, as in האנכי הריתי את כל העם הזה in במדבר יא.  The first line of the poem, in its simplest reading, announces very plainly: “Today is the birth of the world”.

The source of the phrase הרת עולם is in ירמיהו כ, where Jeremiah says “Cursed is the day in which I was born, the day in which my mother birthed me; let it not be blessed. Cursed is the man… who did not kill me from the womb. If only my mother were my tomb – ורחמה הרת עולם – and her womb an everlasting pregnancy.” (ארור היום אשר ילדתי בו יום אשר ילדתני אמי אל יהי ברוך.  ארור האיש אשר בשר את אבי לאמר ילד לך בן זכר שמח שמחהו.  והיה האיש ההוא כערים אשר הפך ה’ ולא נחם ושמע זעקה בבקר ותרועה בעת צהרים.  אשר לא מותתני מרחם ותהי לי אמי קברי ורחמה הרת עולם. למה זה מרחם יצאתי לראות עמל ויגון ויכלו בבשת ימי.)

Disconcertingly, the passuk is harshly negative, with a tone and meaning very different from the piyut.  Not only that, but the word עולם is used with a completely different meaning (world/forever).

Curiously, however, if we reread the piyut translating עולם as ever, the phrase הרת עולם suddenly switches to mean an everlasting birth, like it does in the passuk.  The piyut is refocused into pronouncing, “Today is an everlasting birth.”  In other words, the birth of the world that began the first Rosh Hashana is everlasting through history on this day. And the reason for that is because:

היום יעמיד במשפט

The source of the phrase is in משלי כט ,מלך במשפט יעמיד ארץ. “A king with justice raises up (alternatively: sets right) the world.”  G-d, as king and judge of the world is מעמיד the world, so to speak, through the power of Mishpat.  רבן שמעון בן גמליאל אומר, על שלשה דברים העולם קיים, על הדין… שנאמר אמת ומשפט שלום שפטו בשעריכם. אבות א יח

Which means that while we can initially read the first two lines of the poem as, “Today is the birth of the universe, all the world’s creatures are presented to judgement”, we can also read it at a second level as, “Today is an everlasting birth; today G-d raises, through Justice, all creatures of the universe”.  Rosh Hashana is the continual rebirth of the world, because the world is repeatedly raised up through Justice on this day – the original purpose of the world’s creation repeated each year as Justice is manifest into the world.  (Thank you again to Rabbi Ben Greenfield for this most wonderful and key idea.)

Even more deeply, the two readings mirror and are extensions of each other.  An abstract truth and idea such as Justice, that we perceive in G-d, becomes real – that is it is expressed, instantiated and concretized, and its realization occurs – by its enactment in the universe, much as a king’s rule is only realized through the existence of his subjects (a common concept in Chabad Chassidic writings, אין מלך בלא עם, based initially on Tanya ch. 7, with its earliest source appearing in כד הקמח, ראש השנה ב, and elsewhere in the writings of Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher, student of the Rashba).  G-d’s משפט isn’t manifest until he expresses it in something, and by judging us he expresses Justice; we might even say he ‘creates’ it.

A third reading of the poem’s introductory lines is that היום הרת עולם, today, Rosh Hashana, is an everlasting, recurring gestation, because each year is pregnant and gestates on its Rosh Hashana when יעמיד במשפט כל יצורי עולמים, Judgement is implanted into the world, for it to become realized, expressed and carried out later on, during and throughout the year.

אם כבנים אם כעבדים

The simplest reading of our dual presentation as sons and slaves in the poem, and its initially apparent meaning on a first pass through the poem, is that while our relationship with G-d is in one sense as a son to his father, and in another as a slave to his master – either way, we beseech you G-d, judge us favorably today.

A second layer of meaning, though, sits just beneath the surface, waiting to be revealed as we reread the poem more closely.  And that is that whether we’ll be judged as children or as slaves is also hanging in the balance:  אתם קרוים בנים וקרוין עבדים. בזמן שאתם עושין רצונו של מקום אתם קרוין בנים, ובזמן שאין אתם עושין רצונו של מקום אתם קרוין עבדים (Bava Basra 10A, and see also Kidushin 36A).  We are also judged on whether to be judged as a son or as a slave.  The poem alludes to this again later on: ואם כעבדים – whether or not we are as slaves, עינינו לך תלויות – this too hangs in the balance.

A third reading of אם כבנים אם כעבדים and its dichotomy is based on the passuk in Malachi 1, בן יכבד אב ועבד אדניו. ואם אב אני איה כבודי, ואם אדונים אני איה מוראי – whether we are children and whether we are slaves – in either case we may be judged for transgressing G-d’s will.  Either way, we should have respected or feared G-d, and we now tremble to be judged for not having done so.

But nevertheless:

רחום וחנון

The interplay of כרחם אב for בנים on the one hand, and עד שתחננו for עבדים, on the other, is an obvious parallel to רחום and חנון, two primary attributes that G-d exhibits in judgement (שמות לד).  In the beautiful words of the Rambam in Chapter 54 of the Guide:

הנה נתבאר כי הדרכים אשר ביקש משה רבנו ידיעתן… הם הפעולות הבאות מאתו יתעלה, וחכמים קוראים אותם מידות ואומרים שלוש עשרה מידות. ואין העניין כאן שהוא בעל מידות, אלא עושה פעולות הדומות לפעולות הנעשות על ידינו כתוצאה ממידות… כל פעולה שנשיג מפעולותיו, נתארו יתעלה בתואר שאותה הפעולה יוצאת ממנו, ונקראהו בשם הנגזר מאותה הפעולה.  המשל בכך, כאשר הושגה עדינות ניהולו בהתהוות עוברי בעלי החיים, והמצאת כוחות בו ובמגדליו לאחר לידתו המונעים ממנו את המוות והאובדן, ושומרים עליו מן הנזקים, ועוזרים לו בצרכיו החיוניים, וכעין פעולה זו לא תיעשה מצדנו כי אם לאחר התפעלות והתרגשותו והוא עניין הרחמנות, לכך נאמר עליו יתעלה רחום כדרך שנאמר כרחם אב על בנים… לא שהוא יתעלה מתפעל ומתרגש, אלא כאותה הפעולה הבאה מצד האב כלפי הבן שהיא תוצאה של רגישות וחמלה והתפעלות בהחלט, תבוא מצדו יתעלה כלפי חסידיו. וכשם שכאשר אנו נותנים דבר למי שאין לו עלינו חובה נקרא זה בלשוננו חנינה… והוא יתעלה ממציא ומנהל את מי שאין לו עליו חוב בהמצאתו והנהלתו ולפיכך

 נקרא חנון

G-d can be said to act as a רחום in situations similar to where a human would behave as a רחום, for example as a human to its child, where the nature of the familial relationship emotively drives, and filially obligates, a behavior of רחמים.  G-d also acts as a חנון, providing bounty completely undeserved, in situations where nothing is deserved at all.

The dynamic is two-fold, and bi-directional.  Just as in our world favor is shown by the parent to the child both because it’s in the nature of the parent to provide (parents simply well up with רחמים for their children), and because the child also deserves, and has a right and a claim to, the parent’s favor by virtue of being their child (האנכי הריתי את כל העם הזה אם אנכי ילדתיהו כי תאמר אלי שאהו בחיקך, in במדבר יא); similarly, G-d acts as a רחום relative to creations with which he exhibits a father-son relationship, that is he exhibits mercy and compassion as an expression of the relationship – that’s simply what fathers do; but it’s also true that if we are his children we have a claim to his mercy –  he owes it to us – as a child has a claim to their parent’s effort and favor, and we have a right to ask for it.

A slave on the other hand is owed nothing, and can’t ask for mercy by right.  A slave can only hope for grace, מתנת חינם.

Thus, as G-d’s children, conceived in הרת עולם and created for the purpose of receiving his bounteous good (אמונות ודעות סוף מאמר א וריש מאמר ג, מורה ג כה, דרך השם ב, ועוד הרבה), we ask for G-d’s mercy.  As your children, you must have mercy on us like a father.  And G-d accedes to our request, he is רחם אב על בנים, as the passuk tells us in Tehilim 103, the phrase’s original source: לא כחטאינו עשה לנו ולא כעונתינו גמל עלינו… כרחם אב על בנים רחם ה’ על יראיו.

But we are also G-d’s slaves, in a manner יצורי עולמים, existing simply as of the universe he created למענו יתברך, at his whim and for his sake alone, because he willed it so and for purposes unfathomable (אמונות ודעות סוף מאמר א, מורה א יג, ועוד).  As slaves we don’t get to say ואם כעבדים חננו (the parallel of אם כבנים רחמנו) because we have no right to ask or expect it.  Notice also how the son’s רחמנו is immediate while the slave’s עד שתחננו is delayed and future oriented (until you will grace us).  In our presentation as slaves, we can ask for nothing, because nothing is deserved and we have nothing coming to us.  Our embarrassed gaze simply hangs towards G-d, in shame and with no claim, until he provides us his undeserved grace. אליך נשאתי את עיני… הנה, כעיני עבדים אל יד אדוניהם, כעיני שפחה אל יד גברתה, כן עינינו אל ה’ אלהינו עד שיחננו (Tehilim 123).

We are both your child and your creation.  The case of the child is hopeful, looking towards his father’s mercy, while the case of the slave is hopeless, with nothing to confidently depend upon, except to beseech the master.

אם כבנים רחמנו כרחם אב על בנים, ואם כעבדים עינינו לך תלויות… עד שתחננו

ותוציא כאור משפטנו

In its simplest reading (and particularly in נוסח ספרד, which reads ותוציא לאור משפטנו), the phrase means, “Present for us a positive judgement”, or “judge us favorably”.  The wording has its source in Tehilim 37 והוציא כאור צדקך ומשפטך כצהרים – “He will express as light your righteousness, and your [good] judgement as the mid-day”.  The sentence is Tehilim, when read in the context of its surrounding verses, says that, firstly, when you follow G-d’s ways, that path will enable your positive behavior and attributes to be expressed to the world, and secondly, they will express themselves through G-d in a way that will benefit you positively. (The surrounding verses, for full context, read, אל תתחר במרעים אל תקנא בעשי עולה. כי כחציר מהרה ימלו וכירק דשא יבולון. בטח בה ועשה טוב שכן ארץ ורעה אמונה. והתענג על ה’ ויתן לך משאלות לבך. גול על ה’ דרכך ובטח עליו והוא יעשה. והוציא כאור צדקך ומשפטך כצהרים.  דום לה’ והתחולל לו.)

Turning that back around to the piyut we find ourselves asking G-d, not only to simply judge us positively, but more deeply to express and reveal the good that is within us, the righteous משפט that we ourselves express all year – let G-d reveal it and express it back to us on Rosh Hashana, and bring our righteousness and justice to light, and see and express the good that is within us.

A third reading of ותוציא כאור משפטנו, based on the same set of verses in Tehilim 37, is that since as slaves we have no right or claim to G-d’s good judgement, and all we can do is simply hang our eyes and look to G-d and hope – when we do that, that is sufficient to have G-d bring to light our righteous judgement, גול על ה’ דרכך ובטח עליו והוא יעשה. והוציא כאור צדקך ומשפטך כצהרים – by the act of hanging onto G-d and throwing our lot and entrusting our judgement to him, we bring about his good judgement onto us – עינינו לך תלויות עד שתחננו ותוציא כאור משפטנו – we look to you as a servant to their master – and for that alone, תחננו ותוציא כאור משפטנו, bring to light our judgement.

איום קדוש

How awesome, great and holy!

עלי שיר: Poetic Allusions, Alliterations and Constructs

Some additional points relating to the poetic aspects and expressions of the piyut:

  1. It immediately brings into focus, on the very first two lines, the two main themes of the day – creation and judgement.
  2. The word הרת also brings to mind the words רתת ,הרס and הס – the latter as in וה’ בהיכל קדשו הס מפניו כל הארץ in חבקוק ב – all of which serve alliteratively to impress upon our mind the awe and dread of the day.
  3. The repetition of the word אִם, אִם, אִם brings to mind cries of אֵם, אֵם, אֵם – mother, mother; and together with רחמנו and כרחם (in addition of course to the lead-in הרת) representing רֶחֶם, give voice to maternal instincts of רחמים.
  4. Most wonderfully, if you read the poem with the pronunciation and meter of ancient Hebrew, the way it would have likely been chanted by early congregations, you’ll notice that the meter of the verse lilts and lulls quite rhythmically and evenly until hitting the word תלויות , at which point the meter is chopped off, sounding at an uneven kilter and creating a break in the meter flow, almost as if hitting a cliff – and then the original meter returns for the rest of the poem through the ending. Now, once you notice this, read and listen again even more closely, and you’ll hear a similar, but smaller and less prominent break, at the words אם כבנים אם כעבדים.
  5. Lovers of ancient piyut will no doubt know that many piyutim (and even parts of Tanach) were written with geometric configurations, with parts of the poem setting off or mirroring other parts in structural patterns. היום הרת is no exception, and is entirely marvelous:

היום הרת עולם                                                                                                               איום קדוש

היום יעמיד במשפט                                                                              ותוציא לאור משפטנו

כל יצורי עולמים                                                                     עד שתחננו

אם כבנים אם כעבדים                                       עינינו לך תלויות

אם כבנים                       ואם כעבדים

רחמנו כרחם אב על בנים

The top line at both ends represents the awesome day.  (Notice the juxtaposition of the very similar words היום and איום – there are also old versions of the piyut that read היום קדוש – see המנהיג and שבלי הלקט).  We descend and enter into the poem with the awareness of the day’s awesome moment, and then the poem itself impresses upon us G-d’s and day’s awesome holiness, and we leave with that impression imprinted upon us.

The second line on both sides is the concept of justice, descending into and standing facing justice, and then emerging with justice.

The third line represents G-d’s free-flowing grace, in creation and in granting us today his goodness.

The fourth line presents the tension and uncertainty of אם כבנים אם כעבדים on the one hand, and עינינו לך תלויות on the other (Note also above the second explanation above of אם כבנים אם כעבדים, עינינו לך תלויות – we are also תלוי as to whether a בן or an עבד).

The fifth line is the juxtaposition of sons and slaves, a central theme of the entire poem.

And finally, the sixth line fills with the central role of G-d’s mercy.

  1. An alternative configuration of the middle section into a precise mirror image is:

אם כעבדים                                      ואם כעבדים

אם כבנים                    אב על בנים

רחמנו        כרחם

Using this arrangement for the middle requires us to arrange the rest of the piyut differently, potentially as follows:

קדוש

היום                              היום

            הרת עולם                      ותוציא לאור משפטנו

היום יעמיד במשפט         עד שתחננו

כל יצורי עולמים              תלויות

אם כבנים                      עינינו לך

I excluded קדוש from this arrangement because it’s the lead-out from the piyut and also because it refers to G-d in this reading (“and bring to favorable light our judgement today, Holy G-d”), and I utilized early versions of the piyut where היום is referenced at the end instead of איום (see for example שבלי הלקט).  The middle portions on either side are not mirror images now, but complement each other with respect to meaning.

  1. Lastly, עינינו לך תלויות, ותוציא לאור משפטנו: At the time of creation, just prior to יצירת עולם, creation is hanging (תולה ארץ על בלימה), and G-d exists alone, and then G-d brings forth אור.  This parallels “our eyes are תולה to You, until You bring forth like אור our judgement…” (I admit this one is a stretch!)

So many ideas and layers of meaning, and so much beauty – all in only 32 words!