On to the next level. A sermon for Rosh HaShanah
In the UK, we celebrate New Year’s Day with the fireworks show, loud music and dancing. The light in the dark anticipates the sunrise, and the dances encourage people to look with optimism at the future. On their New Year’s Day, the Chinese dress in red and pass out gifts, usually red packets with money. For the Chinese, money is a protection against evil spirits. The Kurdish -tough, warrior people- celebrate their own NewYears’ Day, the Nowruz, in the Spring. They light bonfires, and the youngsters jump across them, showing their courage and physical strength.
We Jews begin our New Year by blowing the shofar, eating a lot of food (what a surprise) and listening to the story of a father who tried to murder his son!
There are explanations for all our traditions. We eat sweet food on Rosh Hashanah because this is the day when God issues a decree, and we want such a decree to be sweet on us. God on Rosh ha Shanah considers each soul’s merits and bad deeds and decides who shall live and who shall die. That is if you buy into traditional Jewish theology.
We blow the shofar because, in Biblical times, the shofar was a battle call. Nowadays, we do not engage anymore in fights against an external enemy. But the calendar demands from us the same attention of a soldier before the battle. We are not going to fight an external enemy, but we scrutinise ourselves with the same seriousness as those who enter a fight to save their own lives.
But what about the story of Abraham?
Why do we read such a difficult and problematic part of our Holy Book on Rosh ha Shanah? What’s the point of kicking off the new year by reminding us which sort of fanatic our ancestor has been? Why do we remind ourselves that we descend from a man who was ready to sacrifice his own son?
There are different explanations (welcome to Judaism!). For the very Orthodox, the message is the readiness of Abraham to perform such an extreme commandment. When God commands Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, Abraham does not protest. He just does what he’s told.
He orders the two servants to saddle the donkey, splits the wood, takes the fire and sets himself in motion early in the morning, together with Isaac and the two servants. When he starts his journey, Abraham does not know precisely where he’s heading. God has only said, “go to the place that I will show you”.
In the Orthodox approach, we Jews should be like Abraham. Ready to perform the commandments, even the most extreme, without hesitation or asking for a reason.
On the other hand, today, a Liberal explanation goes something like this. We, today, are about to murder our sons, that is, to deny them their future. Global warming, unhinged capitalism, lack of affordable housing… the future generations are facing a very difficult future. And I agree, by the way, it’s true that we adults cause serious harm to the planet and to society. According to a Liberal reading, we are like Abraham on Mount Moriah. We hold the knife in our hands, and we are on the point of murdering our children — better we listen to the voice which says, “Don’t do it!”. We must stop. We must change our behaviour, our society, and our economy. Perhaps you remember that 80s hit? “Stop this crazy thing!”. Perhaps you don’t. It was too niche. We did not stop, anyway.
Both these two interpretations have real points.
The concern of the Orthodox for the mitzvot is laudable; we Jews are still around despite all the attempts to erase our presence because we kept commandments even when they seem not to have a reason. Think of Shabbat. Why a day of rest is Shabbat and not Sunday? Cannot we be “like the others”? But we kept on Shabbat, and here we are. And there is more than one reason for the Liberals’ concerns for the future of humanity. As I said, we truly live in a time of concern.
But neither the Orthodox nor the Liberals manage to explain why we read the story of the Binding of Isaac, on Rosh ha Shana, of all days. Observance of the mitzvot? That is for every day. Concerns for the future? We should always be concerned.
What’s so special about Rosh HaShanah? Let’s focus on a non-Jewish point of view, those of the two servants of Abraham who accompanied him and Isaac on their journey. They lived in a world where human sacrifices were not uncommon. They were polytheists and idolaters. They work for Abraham, this strange old man, very well off, who makes all this fuss about monotheism, worshipping one single God, and the human being created in the image of God etc. etc .. and now they see him doing what -in their eyes- everybody does, offering his son in sacrifice.
Does it sound familiar? I bet it does. Because this is a recurring motif: “Those Jews… they believe to be better than us, but they are like everyone, they do the same thing that we do, aren’t they so irritating with this pretension of being more moral, smarter, more intelligent. Look at their State, the horrible military, the abuses, the discrimination… perhaps like the Nazi… blah blah blah apartheid.”
These two work for Abraham. They travelled with him and with Isaac for three days. When they reach the place God has chosen for the sacrifice, Abraham tells them (22:5), “Stay here (פה — poh) and the young and I will go up there ( שג בםיעד כה), we’ll worship together and return to you”.
“We will return”. It’s the first plural form. Perhaps Abraham already knew that his son won’t be sacrificed and that they would return together, safe. Perhaps.
But the most important thing here is the contrast between the “here” (פה), where the two non-Jews will stay and the “beyond” (כה), the upper level, where Abraham and Isaac will ascend. And there, on the top of the mountain, God will give the commandment not to kill another human being for religious reasons.
The story of the Binding of Isaac puts two levels in front of our eyes. The level for humanity is the פה poh level. And then the כה coh level, the higher status of morality, that we Jews must aspire to reach, even if the rest of humanity is busy with something else, or worse, is trying to cancel us, culturally or physically. This is the reason why this reading is so appropriate on Rosh Hashana, the day that for us is the birthday of the world, the anniversary of the Creation of the Universe. And for the rest of humanity, just another day like any other. The story of Abraham reminds us that, as Jews, we have the duty not to be complacent. That we must not content ourselves with reassuring platitudes such as “oh, things in the world always work like this…” and not be bothered with morality or with the future of humanity.
As Jews, as descendants of Abraham, we have the duty to do better. We have the duty to be moral when no one else around is moral. To care for the environment even if the rest of the world seems not to care. To care for social justice even when poverty is taken for granted and the social disparity is framed as inevitable.
Rosh ha Shana opens a period of ten days that -according to our tradition- is the proper time to examine our relationship with friends and family, to apologise and make peace. But it is also a time for introspection, a time to look at ourselves honestly, with sincerity, and to ask: “What have I done to make this world a better place so that when I leave it, it will be better than when I found it?”
These ethical obligations are mentioned several times in the liturgy — the most important part is the treasurer’s appeal on Yom Kippur when we are given the opportunity to contribute to just causes, to make the world a better place…
But during the coming days, we’ll have plenty of other opportunities and time at home, not only in synagogue, to check where we stand regarding morality. Are we on the same level as the two servants, the פה poh level., the “here and now” level? Or are we striving towards the כה koh level, we aim to go beyond, to a higher moral ground, where we care for the environment’s future and for justice for all humanity? Are we following the ways of the nations, or are we following the Jewish way?
The liturgy of Rosh ha Shana gives us several opportunities to examine ourselves and to begin the journey toward teshuva, repentance and change. We can be a better human beings and true and good Jews.
It’s a great opportunity, not to be missed.
May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life, and let us say Amen.