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Parshas Nitzavim/Rosh HaShanah - Repetition and Change; Adversity and Blessing

By Avraham Cohen

Posted on 09/10/15

Parshas HaShavua Divrei Torah sponsored by
Dr. Shapsy Tajerstein, DPM - Podiatry Care.
(410) 788-6633

This dvar Torah is recycled from a previous year: please either enjoy the repetition (shanna) or the new thought (shinui)!


The name that we Jews use for the New Year is ‘Rosh Hashanna’ – or, most literally, the ‘Head’ (= rosh) of the ‘Year’ (= shanna).  It is the Hebrew root for the word shanna which will tell us a lot about how Judaism views life and the world.


From one perspective, the word shanna means to repeat, or go over. Here we have the word sheini, or the number ‘two:’ ‘one’ is once, and stands for something unique and not repeated; ‘two’ is twice, and stands for a second go around, a repetition of the first. In Hebrew, to be shonneh something is to learn it; implied by its Hebrew root is the concept that to learn something, one must repeat it at least twice (but, as the Midrash states: “One who learns something 100 times is praiseworthy; but one who learns it 101 times is  greater still”). Hence, the entire body of Jewish oral law is the Mishnah, implying that it must be gone over and over again. Deuteronomy is also referred to as the Mishnah Torah, because it has in it a general repetition of the laws and concepts of the Torah found in the previous four books. And so we have the word we started with, Hashannah, the Year of Time, which comes around in the ‘natural’ order of things for a repetition of the previous year’s cycle.


Remarkably, the word shanna has a second (sic) meaning – which, in a way, is diametrically opposed to the first! Because, to be m’shanneh something is to effect a change from the normal or usual way a thing is done. We are told that if one must perform a necessary action which is normally prohibited on Shabbos or Yom Tov, then one must do it with a shinui, some ‘change’ from normal pattern or routine. The Hebrew word for something which is strange or unusual is m’shuneh; and a colloquial phrase for something truly unusual and noteworthy is m’shuna’dik! And in the Ma’ariv prayer for both weekdays, Shabbos and holidays, we praise G-d, Who “by His word brings on evenings, with wisdom opens gates and with understanding changes the times (“m’shaneh ee’teem”).


Of course, the Year is a combination of both of these things: It is a repetition of seasons and patterns and schedules which are integral parts of our lives. But, the year through which we pass and which defines the length and measure of our lives must not be one of dogged repetition – but also one of change and innovation.


The concept of bringing change into one’s life; of making new year’s resolutions (or new month’s; or new day’s) is not optional in Judaism. It is part and parcel, an essential component, of what it means to be a Jew. The whole purpose of why G-d put us here on this world is so that we will grow spiritually; so that we will change over the course of our lives; so that we will become greater through the cycling of our times and seasons and years; so that we will forge a lasting a meaningful bond with our Creator.


Years and times in which there is no change are flat – it is as if we have come full circle throughout the year, but we have stayed on the same plane of being. In graphic terms, the cycle of our lives without change looks like a flat disc; we have come around once again to the same spot in time, but the metaphysical landscape is essentially the same. If this is a picture of our lives, then it is only two-dimensional.   Chazal tell us that our passage of time through the years should look more like a spiral; yes, we are coming back to the same time and season which we passed through last year, but we are on a different plane, hopefully higher up than we were last time around. These spiraling jumps throughout time, from year to year, may be seen as a three-dimensional map of our lives, plotting out our progress in change and spiritual growth.


This idea of ‘flat lives’ is part of the message of Psalm 90 (‘A Prayer of Moses), which we say over every Shabbos and Yom Tov. The psalmist contrasts the greatness and transcendence of G-d vs. the fleeting and vulnerable lifespan of man. The sum total of our days are “sleeplike; by morning (we) are like grass that withers. In the morning (we) blossom and are rejuvenated; by evening (we) are cut down and brittle … We consume our years like a fleeting thought. The days of our years among them are seventy years, and if with strength eighty years, the majority of them but toil and pain, for it is cut off swiftly and we fly away.” Flat years; unremarkable without dimension. Where did my life go; what was its meaning!?


The psalmist then gives us an antidote to flat years: “Satisfy us in the morning with Your kindness – then we shall sing out and rejoice throughout our days.” Ah – an appreciation of G-d’s role in our lives, taking note of all the kindnesses that He does for us, creating a meaningful relationship with our Maker – this will add color and dimension to our lives.


But then, an alarming and discordant note; a warning that we will not be allowed to live lives of complacency, without change and without meaning! It is mind-boggling when we consider the next words of our Psalm:


“Gladden us according to the days You afflicted us (sam’chay’nu  kee’y’mos  ee’nee’sa’nu), the years when we saw evil (sh’nos  ra’ee’nu  ra’ah).”


Make us happy when we contemplate the days in which we were afflicted!?  Or, for the years in which we saw evil!?  At first glance, it sounds like an oxymoron – what could this possibly mean?


The deep answer given in this psalm is that G-d wants us to live meaningful lives; and in order to do this, we must live lives of change and appreciation. Our lives can take on meaning and dimension when we understand that we are beholden to G-d for everything that we have; that our spiritual growth depends upon our attachment to G-d through Torah and mitzvos. If we are not ’satisfied’ with this relationship by coming to appreciate ‘[His] kindness’ when things are good – then G-d can bring us to an appreciation of life’s greater meaning through hardship and adversity.  All life’s trials are an expression of G-d’s kindness and desire for our greater good.


Trials and tribulation bring us to a different understanding of what life is about – and ultimately to lasting change. If life is ‘good’ and I am happy and complacent with the way things are going – what impetus is there for me to change?  No – G-d sends us his messages and his messengers to effect change in our way of thinking and in our lives and life-style. And ask anyone who has gone through hard times and life-changing events (after the dust has settled and perspective has gained a foothold) – and the chances are very great that that individual will look back and be glad according to the days that they were afflicted. Everything was for the best; I am a greater person now because of it.


M’shanneh makom, m’shanneh mazal” – If one changes their place, then one can change their mazal. What is your ‘mazal?’ Well, this could be the topic for a dvar Torah all by itself, but let us suggest that it is one’s capacity for spiritual growth. If you change your ‘place’ – meaning the way you view and relate to the world (it could be either physical or metaphysical), then you will have changed spiritually – and your life will now take on added dimension. This is inevitable – but sometimes we must be made to change our place in order to experience the desired change.


On Succos, we leave our permanent dwelling place and move into a temporary dwelling place. Most of us are somewhat ‘afflicted’ by this change – especially since our succah may not be as warm, as cozy and certainly not as sheltered as our physically protective homes. But G-d gave us this mitzvah so that we can appreciate that He ‘caused us to dwell in succah booths when we left Mitzraim;’ so that we can appreciate that it is really G-d Who protects us throughout our life-journey; that it is not our mundane efforts throughout the Year which sustains us, but G-d’s Kindness and Providence which makes each day unique.


The Zohar refers to the protective shade of the succah as the ‘tzialta d’haim’nusah’ – the Shade of Faith. As we head into the darker colder months, times of adversity, we are adjured to take this Faith with us; so that our lives will be joyful, so that we will “sing out and rejoice throughout our days” – days full of change and rejuvenation, spiraling every closer to an unbreakable bond with G-d.


Where The Sidewalk Ends  (as heard from Harav Michel Twerski shlita, Hornosteipel - Milwaukee Rebbe) 


Whenever our city lays a sidewalk, the name of the city is imprinted in the new slabs of cement, along with the year in which they were poured. Between the Rebbe's house and the shul there are some new slabs that have recently replaced the old, crumbling ones and hence stamped "City of Milwaukee 2012". The rest of the sidewalk slabs each boast the year in which they were poured and set. Some read 2001, others 1994, some go back to the 80's or before.


But, we are not concrete. People are meant to grow, to change, never to remain the same. If we take a penetrating, honest look at ourselves, when was the last time we really changed? Five years? Ten years? Perhaps longer? When we were born, Hashem poured us into our physical bodies, into this world. The purpose was so that we could aspire to a higher calling than that of a corporeal existence. The idea was that we would not harden in place but that we would rise to the challenge and grow upwards, build inwards and become better, taller people, and closer to Hashem.


Have we done that, or are we basically the same we've always been? Do we truly believe in the possibility for drastic and meaningful change? Or, have we lost faith in G-d's trust that we can renew ourselves?


Standing in front of the Master of the World on Rosh Hashanah, and ultimately when we shed our bodies at the end of a hundred twenty short years, we will be quite uncomfortable if the last time we made changes in our person was when we were originally poured into the path of life. We need to take a long, hard look in the mirror and see if we are not stamped with the personal equivalent of "City of Milwaukee, 1980". May we merit to prepare adequately for the coming year, and may it be a year of true spiritual growth for every one of us.


 


Wishing you all a wonderful Shabbos kodesh and a Shanna Tova u’m’sukah (a sweet New Year)!  Avraham Cohen