In recording the ten generations separating Adam to Noah, the Torah provides brief encapsulations of their lives. By far the most intriguing on the list is Hanokh (in English, he is referred to as Enoch), the seventh generation of humanity. Here is the complete record of what the Torah reveals about Hanokh:
Shemini Atzeret, in some regards the conclusion of Sukkot, is in other important respects a holy day all its own. Certainly in the number of sacrifices offered, Shemini Atzeret is distinct. The Midrash suggests that Sukkot is a festival during which sacrifice is offered for all the peoples of the world. At the end of that week of universal concern, God bids the Children of Israel to stay for an extra day to commune with God, like a beloved friend is asked to stay at the party after the other dear guests depart.
Sukkot is known in rabbinic tradition as zman simhateinu, the season of our joy. Yet it comes on the heals of a time of year during which we focus on the large issues of life and death, of human frailty and resilience, on what our purpose on this planet is, and on how we are using (and on how we are meant to use) our time. The months of Elul and Tishri, containing the Days of Awe offer a natural invitation to introspect, to stand before God in our nakedness, which is to say, in complete honesty, unfeigned, as we truly are.
Jews the world over are getting ready for our annual period of introspection, prayer, and gathering. Beginning with the moving Selihot services last Saturday evening/Sunday morning, moving through Rosh Ha-Shanah and culminating in Kol Nidrei and Yom Kippur, we will use our time to consider who we have become in the past year, we will contemplate the gap between our highest ideals and our actual behavior, and we will seek to make amends to ourselves, to each other, and to God.
In that ancient renewal of soul and society, our Judaism offers us potent tools to assist us in our task:
Americans are justly proud of our heritage of religious freedom, whereby a person is not judged by denominational affiliation, but solely on qualities of merit, citizenship, and integrity. Even when our nation does not live up to that ideal, it still affirms the ideal as a standard worthy of emulation and of continued effort.
This has been a difficult year to root for rabbis. One rabbi in Israel made national news when accused by several women of sexual harassment and inappropriate exploitation of his position as counselor and teacher. Another rabbi was filmed on national TV in what seemed like a highly inappropriate encounter. A yeshivahteacher of many years has been accused by several (now) men of past abuse. Yet another rabbi was charged with inappropriate sexual and financial dealings.
Living in North America today means, for the vast preponderance of Jews, not living in a ghetto. Each and every day, we mingle with a dazzling array of non-Jews from every corner of the globe. By choice, we live in the world as a part of the world. Most of us want our children to be exposed to a range of human cultures, to learn to treasure the beauty in the vast literatures and faith traditions of all humankind.
Ten years ago, when my children were now almost three years old, they had reached a stage in life in which they liked to be helpful to their mother and to me when we were busy with household chores. As we prepared a meal, they liked to help rip up the lettuce, or open a package, or mix the food in a bowl. As much as I appreciated their helpfulness, there was also a drawback to their voluntarism: they often didn’t finish the job they had begun.
The world can be a very scary place. Every time we pick up the morning’s paper, or turn on the television, the media provides us with more evidence of just how terrifying life can be. Fires raging out of control, brutal warfare abroad, incessant terrorist attacks, and gangs and criminals terrorizing our streets, illness, death, unemployment, and a host of more private sorrows are the constant companions of the living. There isn’t a person alive who hasn’t tasted the bitterness of disappointment and of tragedy. We are all wounded by the simple act of staying alive.
Every four years, with each new presidential election, Americans come face-to-face with the unpleasant reality that we don't trust each other.
