Really Hearing for a New Year

This was written for Yom Kippur. Its sentiments still hold true.

Amar Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, lo hayu yamim tovim l’Yisrael kakhamisha asar b’Av uvaYom HaKippurim, she’ba’hen banot Yerushalayim yotz’ot bichlei lavan si’ulin, she’lo l’vayeish et mi she’ain lo…. U’vanot Yerushalayim yotz’ot v’cholot ba’k’ramim. U’meh hayu omrot, “Bachor, sa-na einekha urei mah atah voreir lach….

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said, There were never better days for Israel than the 15^th of Av and on Yom Kippur, since on [these days] the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white garments, so not to shame anyone who didn’t have…. And the daughters of Jerusalem would go out and dance in the vineyards.  And what would they say? Young man, lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself…. (Mishnah Ta’anit 4:8)

I like to imagine what the Yamim Noraim must have been like in ancient times. In our time they are solemn, prayer filled days. We see faces we see regularly and those we see not so regularly. (We’re very happy to see you all!) Our machzorim are filled with the accumulated piyyutim of thousands of generations. Sitting for three hours, it is difficult for each of us to imagine a day filled with dancing and joy. But there it is, preserved in the Mishnah, a day on which young women would dance in the streets and young men would come to court them.

However, when we delve into the real meaning of the day it makes sense. These are days of hope and dreams for the future. We examine our past year, and plan for the coming one. “Lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself.” This is the song the girls would sing. It is a theme echoed in the Rosh Hashanah readings. Hagar lifts her eyes to see the spring that saves her and Yismael. Avraham lifts his eyes to see the sacrificial lamb. Though examining ourselves, we must also remember on these days to look around and see. Socrates said, “Ho de anexetastos bios ou biôtos; For a human being, the unexamined life is not worth living.” Only when we look up, out and beyond ourselves, can we truly live.

Rabbi Jack Riemer expressed this idea in a favourite poem, which we would read it each year in my childhood synagogue.

Judaism begins with the commandment:
Hear O Israel! But what does it really mean to hear?
The person who attends a concert with his mind on business, hears-but does not really hear.
The person who walks amid the songs of birds, and thinks only of what he will have for dinner, hears-  but does not really hear.
The man who listens to the words of his friend, or his wife, or his child, and does not catch the note of urgency: “Notice me, help me, care about me,” hears-but does not really hear.
The man who listens to the news and thinks only of how it will affect business, hears-but does not really hear.
The person who stifles the sound of his conscience and tells himself he has done enough already, hears-but does not really hear.
The person who hears the Hazzan pray and does not feel the call to join him, hears-but does not really hear.

The person who listens to the Rabbi’s sermon, and thinks that someone else is being addressed, hears-but does not really hear.

On this High Holiday, O Lord, sharpen our ability to hear.

May we hear music of the world, and the infants cry and the lover’s sigh...

May we hear the call for help of the lonely soul, and the sound of the breaking heart.

May we hear the words of our friends, and also their unspoken pleas and dreams.

May we hear within ourselves the yearnings that are struggling for expression.

May we hear You, O God. For only if we hear You do we have the right to hope that You will hear us.

Hear the prayers we offer to You this day, O God, and may we hear them too.

God is close at hand. We need only to reach out with our senses and make our choices wisely to create a life worth living for ourselves and for others.