R A B B I M E I R
K A H A N E
ON JEWS AND JUDAISM
2 Elul 5737 - September 2, 1977
Elul
The Jewish calendar is full of notations, red letter days
that are meant to be both particular reminders as well as part of a uniform
one: time is passing; the sands of life
have run out just a bit more; the beard is a little grayer and the limbs just a
touch heavier. Time. The Jewish calendar is a watchman of time,
ram’s horn that blows not once a year but every time that a new time cycle
begins.
Every month is marked by a Rosh Chodesh, the consecration of
the new beginning of yet another lunar cycle.
The wheel of heaven has revolved yet another thirty days – so soon! –
and we are that much older. The L-rd now
gives us another month to prove that we are also that much wiser. It is not only another month, it is
a new month. Above all, it is called Rosh Chodesh, the
“head” of the month. Is there perhaps
here a hint to see how much wisdom has filled our heads during the mistakes and
sins of the past one…?
And every year has its Rosh Hashana, that peculiarly Jewish
day in which there are no parties and drinking and abandonment of restraint; in
which there is no hilarious laughter and noise that is a frantic and frenetic
attempt to convince all (and oneself) that he is happy; there is no frantic
clutching at pleasure before it escapes and – worse - before I pass on; too
soon, too soon. There is Rosh Hashana,
the time past. Another year gone by – already? So soon! – and it is a time to see what the
gray hairs and the added wrinkles and the slower reflexes have taught us. Rosh Hashana is one step closer to the
gateway out of this world and into the next one. It is a time to rehearse the speech that we
will make – all of us – some day, before the Supremes of Courts, as we attempt
to explain the meaning of our lives below.
Life is too short for fools.
It is too long for those who know it was not given for happiness (if
that comes, how wonderful, but how often does it appear, only in insignificant
measures and at rare times, as drops of rain that fall on a parched desert
leaving no impact, changing nothing so that the traveler never knows it
fell). Life was given for holiness and
sanctity, so that we might rise above ourselves; so that we might consecrate
and hallow that animalism within us that threatens at every moment to escape
and express itself in selfishness, ego and greed – sins that are themselves
only the corridors to the crimes of cruelty and hurting others. Life is not a happy thing – it is a beautiful
thing, and when one becomes the artist and artisan of that beauty that is
called holiness, when one practices the supreme holiness that comes of loving
and giving of oneself.
“Ani l’dodi v’dodi li…”
“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine…” the words of the greatest of
love poems, Song of Songs; great because it is that purest of love, between the
Almighty and the House of Israel.
Consider them, for do they not contain the essence and the secret of
true love? “I am my beloveds and my
beloved is mine.” When I am my
beloved’s, when I give to her and give of myself and live to do for her and
make her happy – then I am guaranteed that she is mine for she will, in turn,
be doing the same for me. The lovers who
think of giving to each other must receive from each other. This is love, this desire to give, this
desire to sacrifice and do for the other.
Not for nothing was the Song of Songs called by the
incomparable Rabbi Akiva, “the Holy of Holies” of all the books of the
Bible. For the kind of love expressed in
it IS holiness. Holiness is to
escape from the selfishness and greed of the animal; it is to smash the
passions and desires of the ego; it is to master the will that makes man seek
only his own gratification. And is not
love just that, in practice? Is not love
exactly that, if it is true love?
And not for no reason did the rabbis see in the Hebrew
letters of the month of Elul the first letters of “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li – I
am my beloveds and my beloved is mine.” Elul
is the month of Tshuva, return and introspection. It is the month of scraping away the ego that
has settled and crusted on our hearts and souls. If Passover calls for searching out he leaven
in the home, Elul decrees removing it – the yeasty and bloated ego – from the
soul. It is a time to note the calendar,
the graying and aging, and to realize: Not for nonsense was I born and not with
nonsense must they bury me.
Be good. Love. Love selflessly; cease speaking evil, cease
thinking evil; cease searching out evil in your fellow human beings. Cease seeking to grow at the expense of
others. For one who climbs on top of the
man he has just chopped down is not taller.
He is the same dwarf standing on his victim’s height. Be wary lest you hurt the one you love. Think before you act towards the other
person. Be good as a person, as an
individual, and your part of the world will become holy. Then, if others emulate you, the world will
suddenly and automatically turn beautiful and hallowed. It is Elul.
Think of your beloved – all the people of the earth – and think of your
particular beloved. Give of yourself and
you will receive that which no amount of grasping and scheming can ever bring
you: self-respect. Love the other and
you will learn to like yourself. Be
holy, for the One who made you is Holy and for this He placed you on this
earth. It is another Elul, yet another
one. How many more are left?
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