As the weeks fly by and the High Holy Days approach (Erev Rosh Hashanah is next Sunday night!), what have we done to prepare during this month of Elul? What have we learned? Thus far our congregational Elul messages have included reminders to ‘slow down’ and ‘start now’ – to ‘let go of the past’ and ‘remember where we came from.’ Despite what might appear on the surface to be mixed messages, all these things are indeed possible!
In our lives we get mixed messages all the time. Things like “hurry up and wait,” “the only constant is change,” “embrace the unknown” – these ideas are paradoxes. A paradox is something that has elements which seem to contradict each other. Sometimes this concept is referenced in a negative sense, like in speculative fiction when someone time travels and inadvertently changes something in the past which creates a time paradox (a Bad Thing). However, sometimes paradoxes are deliberate, and intended to lead us to contemplation. Perhaps the most widely known example of this is the practice in Zen Buddhism of the Koan, such as, “Two hands clap and there is a sound. What is the sound of one hand?” (Hakuin Ekaku). Contemplation of the Koan is intended to help practitioners achieve new mental states of openness, seeing beyond false dualities or material illusion.
Of course, we have plenty of our own paradoxes in Judaism. The tension between the concepts of ‘slow down’ and ‘start now’ is not unlike other tensions we experience regularly as part of Jewish life: between community and individual, between the particular (we are a tribe that is separate from all other peoples) and the universal (we are humans just like everyone else), and many other examples – in fact, some prime examples of Jewish paradox appear in our High Holy Day prayer book!
We sing about God as “Avinu Malkeinu” (our parent, our sovereign), which is itself a paradox: Avinu, the image of God as our parent, is echoed in many other High Holy Day prayers (such as “K’rachem Av” which begins “As a parent shows tenderness to their children, may You show mercy to those who revere You”). In this image, God is filled with mercy and forgiveness. Malkeinu, the image of God as a King, is the idea that God is sitting in judgment, stern and strict (such as the prayer “On Rosh Hashanah it is written…” where through acts of repentance, prayer, and righteous giving, we can “transcend the harshness of the decree”). These two images would seem to be entirely at odds with one another, but both images permeate our liturgy during the High Holy Days and are deliberately combined into a liturgical paradox.
What is the nature of the Divine? Can any human concepts and human values apply to an unknowable, unimaginable, supernatural notion of Divinity? In what ways do we as humans embody these paradoxical traits? We can ask ourselves these questions, and many more, as part of our experience of this paradox. The “answers,” as is so often the case in Judaism, will vary between people.
Another example is the paradox in the High Holy Day liturgy between the idea that “we are responsible for our mistakes and will atone for them” and “You, God, made us as we are so You should forgive us!” Different prayers in our machzor (prayer book) seem to lean more to one of these ideas or the other. The piyyut (liturgical poem) called “Ki Hinei Kachomer” on Yom Kippur evening says that just like clay is shaped by the hands of the potter, so are we shaped by the Divine, and therefore (some might further interpret) that ultimately God is the one responsible for all our actions! Contrast this with the prayers in the Vidui (confessional) service, which are all about taking responsibility for all the mistakes and bad deeds we have done, admitting that we have done wrong as the first step in changing our actions and atoning for our mistakes.
To what degree are we personally responsible for our mistakes? For the mistakes of others that we had a hand in, or could have prevented? For wrongs perpetuated in our society, even though we did not commit those wrongs personally? What can we do to increase our sense of personal responsibility? We can ask ourselves these questions, and many more, as part of our experience of this paradox. In Judaism, there are different answers, but one thing that the High Holy Days reminds us is that no matter who else may share responsibility, it is upon us to identify the aspects of ourselves which can improve and do the work to improve them.
During the coming weeks, let us take time to think about what paradoxes or conflicts we notice in our lives. When we contemplate how to simultaneously ‘slow down’ and ‘start now’ – what does that look like? Might it actually help lead to direct action if we leave ourselves more space for rest and contemplation? When we contemplate how to ‘let go of the past’ and ‘remember where we came from’ – what does that look like? Can we accept ourselves for exactly who we are right now, and use that acceptance and self-love as a springboard to reach for the person we might become? Sometimes contemplating a paradox means realizing it is not quite as paradoxical as we had at first believed.
In this last week of Elul and during the High Holy Days, may we find rest, may we strive for self-acceptance, and may these efforts lead to a New Year filled with blessing and gratitude.
Shanah Tovah!
Cantor Sarah Beck-Berman
Cantor & B'nei Mitzvah Coordinator
Congregation Beth Ahabah
