Tag Archives: Psalms

Tu b’Shevat: The Prime Ministers of Israel and the Coming of Mashiach

This Shabbat we celebrate the little-known though highly significant holiday of Tu b’Shevat. This special day is commonly referred to as Rosh Hashanah l’Ilanot, “the New Year for Trees”. The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 2a) tells us that there are four “new years” on the Hebrew Calendar:

The first of Nisan is the New Year for kings and festivals; the first of Elul is the New Year for tithing of cattle… The first of Tishrei is the New Year for years, for sabbaticals, Jubilees, plantation, and tithing of vegetables; on the first of Shevat is the New Year for trees according to Beit Shammai, however, Beit Hillel places it on the fifteenth of that month.

The general rule is that we always follow Hillel’s opinion over Shammai’s, and so the New Year for Trees is commemorated on the 15th of Shevat. The Talmud doesn’t explain why Hillel and Shammai disagreed about the date. Perhaps because of this confusion, we are told that Rabbi Akiva would tithe his fruits on both the first and fifteenth of Shevat.

Nonetheless, by the 16th century, Tu b’Shevat had developed into an important mystical holiday, and the Arizal (Rabbi Itzchak Luria) introduced a Tu b’Shevat seder that mirrors the Passover seder. In addition to eating a variety of different fruits that are kabbalistically symbolic, the Tu b’Shevat seder includes drinking four cups of wine like on Passover. The connection is made very clear: Passover celebrates our First Redemption, and Tu b’Shevat celebrates our future redemption with the coming of Mashiach.

Indeed, Mashiach is often likened to a tree or sprouting plant. For example, Zechariah 6:2 tells us that Mashiach’s name is Tzemach, literally “plant”, while Psalms 92:13, in describing the End of Days, says “the righteous one will flourish like a palm tree.” Jewish tradition holds that a potential messiah lives in each generation, so that he may come immediately if the world is ready. Moses was the first redeemer, so his successor Joshua was the first possible mashiach.

Joshua was the first of the so-called “Judges”, the Shoftim that led Israel over the period of nearly five centuries before Israel had a king. It wasn’t just Joshua who was a potential messiah, but each and every one of the Judges. Each was a saviour in their generation, fighting off Israel’s enemies and bringing peace to the Holy Land. Each had the opportunity to reclaim Jerusalem and build the Holy Temple upon it, but failed. We read in Joshua 13:1 how God reprimands Joshua for growing old without completing his task, while the commentaries on Genesis 49:18 tell us how downtrodden Jacob was to prophetically foresee Samson fail to bring about the redemption.

The period of Judges would come to an end, and soon David would ascend the throne. It was he who acquired the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and brought the Ark of the Covenant there. David besought God to allow him to build the Temple, but God denied the request. However, he promised David that his dynasty would be everlasting, and that he would be the progenitor of the Messiah, who would complete David’s divine task.

It took a long and difficult, lawless period of Judges (where each person falsely did “what was right in their own eyes”, as we are told in Judges 17:6 and 21:25), full of warfare and oppression before the first footsteps of the Final Redemption were laid. This strongly resembles our present situation. “There is nothing new under the sun,” said King Solomon, and it appears we are reliving the past in our modern day.

Israel’s Prime Ministers

In 1948, a fully independent Jewish state in the Holy Land was finally re-established, under miraculous circumstances. Jews were returning en masse to their ancestral home, on a scale unseen since the time of Joshua. There was a chance to reclaim all of the ancient borders and even (though it would be astronomically difficult) rebuild the Temple. An even better opportunity presented itself in 1967, after the phenomenal Six-Day War. Yet time and again Israel failed to fulfil its Biblical mission. Alas, we must wait for Mashiach, the scion of David’s dynasty, to get the job done. The feeling among many Jews today is probably similar to that of the Jews in the period of Judges. And the similarities don’t end there.

The Israelite leaders in the period of Judges did some great things, but ultimately failed to realize their main task. A careful reading of the Book of Judges reveals that not all of the Judges were divinely appointed, and some weren’t even righteous! For the most part, the Judges were military leaders selected by the people. The Judge Avimelech was a powerful warrior, but such a wicked man that he was severely punished by God. Nonetheless, he is counted among the Judges because he was elected by the people. Sound familiar?

The situation in Israel today is much the same, with the people electing their leader – the prime minister – who is often a military hero and sometimes not so righteous. The parallels between the ancient Judges and the modern prime ministers of Israel are striking:

The fifth Judge was Deborah, the only female; the fifth prime minister was Golda Meir, also the only female. Prior to Deborah was Shamgar, who had such a brief stint that he is not included in the chronological record. Likewise, before Golda Meir was Yigal Allon, who served for just 19 days and is often excluded from the list of official prime ministers. Unfortunately, we don’t know very much about the Judges to make more detailed comparisons. Many are described in only one or two verses, and some just by name. (Did Prime Minister Ehud Barak appreciate the significance of his name, considering both Ehud and Barak were two central figures in the Book of Judges?)

What we do know is that there were a total of fifteen Judges, who reigned from the time the Jews returned to Israel after their calamity in Egypt. Three thousand years later, the Jews once again return to Israel after the Holocaust, and thus far there have been thirteen prime ministers. The era of Judges concluded with the start of the monarchy and the subsequent construction of the Temple. It took fifteen judges to get there. Will it take fifteen prime ministers to do it again?

The Secret of Tu b’Shevat

Although the School of Shammai taught that the “New Year for Trees” is the first of Shevat, the School of Hillel insisted that it was on the fifteenth. This is where the holiday gets its name: Tu b’Shevat literally means “fifteenth of Shevat”, where Tu is the traditional Hebrew designation for the number fifteen. (In Hebrew, Tu [ט”ו] is composed of the letters ט and ו, where the former has a value of 9 and the latter 6, totalling 15. It might seem more logical to use the letters yud [10] and hei [5] to represent 15, but that would inadvertently spell a name of God in vain!)

Perhaps the School of Hillel insisted on the fifteenth to remind us of the deeper meaning of the holiday: the Final Redemption that it symbolizes, the foundation of which was laid by the first fifteen Judges and which, perhaps, will be fulfilled by another set of fifteen modern “judges”.

The Kabbalists teach that the letters beit and pei are linked, and are sometimes interchangeable. In fact, within the shape of the letter pei is a hidden beit. With this in mind, the word Shevat (שבט) can be read Shofet (שפט), “Judge”. Thus, Tu b’Shevat may very well hint to the fifteen Judges.

When it comes to the modern-day “judges”, the Prime Minster of Israel is officially the leading member of the Knesset, Israel’s parliament. And it is the Knesset that gives the necessary “vote of confidence” to elect a prime minister. Incredibly, Israel’s very first Knesset convened on February 14, 1949, which just happened to be Tu b’Shevat!

Prophecies and Miracles

The Tu b’Shevat seder instituted by the Kabbalists cites the Talmud (Sanhedrin 98a) that “there is no greater sign of the Redemption than the fulfilment of the verse, ‘And you, mountains of Israel, you shall give forth your branches and you shall bear your fruit for my people Israel, for they shall soon come’ (Ezekiel 36:8).” The Sages state then when we see the land of Israel flourishing once more, and yielding great quantities of fruit, we should know that the Redemption is imminent. Indeed, the modern State of Israel has flourished, growing a whopping 95% of its own produce, and exporting over $1.3 billion in agricultural goods – despite having a land mass that is officially 50% desert!

Back in 1890, Rabbi Ze’ev Yavetz started a tradition by taking his students to plants trees on Tu b’Shevat. Soon after, the custom was adopted by the Jewish National Fund, which has since planted an astonishing 260 million trees in Israel, and played a central role in the nascent state’s success. Today, it is estimated that over a million Jews still participate yearly in JNF’s Tu b’Shevat tree-planting. As such, Tu b’Shevat has grown from an obscure, mystical holiday – a footnote on the Hebrew calendar – to an important holiday marked even by secular Jews, bringing the entire nation together, very much in the spirit of the coming Redemption.

‘The Mulberry Tree’ (1889) by Vincent Van Gogh

Sukkot: Uniting Heaven and Earth

This week we celebrate the festival of Sukkot. This holiday is possibly the least-observed among Jews in modern times. After the “high holidays” of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, many go back to their regular routines and completely forget about Sukkot. In reality, Sukkot is considered a “high holiday”, too, and is inseparable from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Most people are aware that one is judged and written into the Heavenly Books on Rosh Hashanah, and that the books are sealed on Yom Kippur, but few know that the books are reopened on Hoshana Rabbah, the last day of Sukkot (before the semi-independent holiday of Shemini Atzeret which immediately follows Sukkot).

The Arizal describes the great importance of Hoshana Rabbah, and the need to stay up all night learning Torah, and saying selichot after midnight. Some also blow the shofar on this day. Hoshana Rabbah literally means “the great salvation”, and many prayers associated with this day beseech God to finally send us Mashiach and bring about the last redemption. It is well known that if all of Israel repented properly and wholeheartedly, Mashiach would come immediately. This was what Mashiach himself told Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi:

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi met Elijah [the Prophet] by the entrance of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s tomb… and asked him:
“When will the Messiah come?”
[Elijah responded:] “Go and ask him yourself.”
“Where is he?”
“At the entrance [of Rome].”
“And how will I recognize him?”
“He is sitting among the poor lepers…”
… So he went to him and greeted him, saying, “Peace be upon you, Master and Teacher.” [Mashiach] replied: “Peace be upon you, O son of Levi,”
“When will you come Master?” he asked.
“Today!” was his answer.
On his returning to Elijah, the latter enquired, “What did he say to you?”
“Peace be upon you, O son of Levi,” he answered.
Thereupon [Elijah] observed, “He thereby assured you and your father of [a portion in] the World to Come!’
“He spoke falsely to me,” he replied, “stating that he would come today, but has not.”
[Elijah] answered him, “This is what he said to you: Today, if you will but hearken to his voice…” (Psalms 95:7)

Rabbi Yehoshua was excited when Mashiach assured him he would come on that very day. When the day passed, the rabbi was heartbroken, and thought Mashiach had lied to him. However, when later meeting Elijah again, the prophet told him that Mashiach was only quoting Psalms, that the redemption would come today if the Jewish people merited it. The fact that Mashiach has yet to come means the people are not yet worthy.

As such, each Yom Kippur that passes without Mashiach’s immediate arrival means that Israel has not repented completely. In fact, the final long blow of the shofar at the conclusion of Yom Kippur is likened to the shofar blow that will be heard when Mashiach arrives. We hope that God has fully accepted our prayers, and that this final shofar blow is the one to bring the redemption. If Yom Kippur passes without the redemption, we have one more chance on Hoshana Rabbah, when the Heavenly Books are reopened one last time. We show our devotion by staying up all night learning Torah, and we say selichot just once more in the hopes that it might tip the scales in our favour. We blow the shofar for the very last time, too, in one final attempt at bringing Heaven down to Earth. This union of Heaven and Earth is precisely what Mashiach’s coming – and the holiday of Sukkot – is all about.

David’s Fallen Sukkah

When God created this world, He intended for the spiritual and material realms to coexist, and for human beings to inhabit both dimensions simultaneously. This perfect state of reality was embodied by the Garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve were “bodies of light” and God’s presence was openly experienced. But Adam and Eve’s actions caused their bodies of light, ‘or (אור), to turn to skin, ‘or (עור) – two words that sounds exactly the same in Hebrew, and written the same save for one letter. Man was banished from the Garden and descended into a world where spirituality is concealed, and God’s presence is not so easy to recognize.

Mashiach’s coming is meant to re-bridge the gap between Heaven and Earth, restoring the world to a state of Eden. This is what we are meant to experience on Sukkot, when we leave the material confines of our homes and spend our time in simple outdoor huts, surrounded by God’s “clouds of glory”. The sukkah is a place to experience Heaven on Earth.

The Kabbalists tell us that this is the inner meaning of sukkah (סוכה), the numerical value of which is 91. This special number is the sum of God’s name (יהוה), the value of which is 26, and the way we pronounce the name, Adonai (אדני), the value of which is 65. In Heaven, where Godliness is openly revealed, God is known by His Ineffable Name (יהוה). On Earth, where Godliness is concealed, the Tetragrammaton cannot be pronounced, and we say “Adonai” (אדני) instead. The fusion of God’s heavenly title (26), and His earthly title (65) makes 91, the value of sukkah, for it is in the sukkah that we can experience the fusion of Heaven and Earth.

[Incidentally, 91 is also the numerical value of malakh (מלאך), “angel”, for what is an angel but an intermediary between Heaven and Earth, a being that can freely migrate between these two dimensions?]

Sukkot is therefore a brief taste of a forthcoming world ushered in by Mashiach; a hint of the Garden of Eden that will be re-established by the Son of David. This is the deeper meaning of the final prophetic verses of Amos:

On that day, I will raise up the sukkah of David that is fallen, and close up its breaches, and I will raise up his ruins, and I will build it as in the days of old… And I will turn the captivity of My people Israel, and they shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and drink their wine; they shall also make gardens, and eat their fruit. And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be plucked out of their land which I have given them, says Hashem, your God.

Chag sameach!

Sukkot decoration featuring the "Sukkah of Leviathan". Midrashic literature suggests that Mashiach will slay the great mythical dragon Leviathan and build a sukkah from its skin. The righteous will then be invited to partake in the "Feast of Leviathan" together with Mashiach. (Malkhut Vaxberger, www.mwaxb.co.il)

Sukkot decoration featuring the “Sukkah of Leviathan”. Midrashic literature suggests that Mashiach will slay the great mythical dragon Leviathan and build a sukkah from its skin. The righteous will then be invited to partake in the “Feast of Leviathan” together with Mashiach. (Malkhut Vaxberger, www.mwaxb.co.il)

Why You Really (Really!) Shouldn’t Do Kapparot (Even With Money)

Tuesday evening marks the holy day of Yom Kippur. In the early morning hours before this, many Jews will seek to perform the custom of kapparot, which involves taking a live rooster (or chicken), swinging it over one’s head, and then having it slaughtered. In the process, the person states how the rooster will be their “atonement”, and while the rooster will die, the person will go on to live a good life. The rooster’s meat is typically donated. Others swing money over their heads instead of a rooster, and then donate the money to charity. Of course, this strange-sounding custom is not mentioned anywhere in the Torah or Talmud. In fact, throughout history many Jewish Sages tried hard to extinguish this custom, for a number of important reasons.

19th Century Lithograph of Kapparot

19th Century Lithograph of Kapparot

First of all, kapparot sounds much too similar to a korban, a sacrificial offering. In the days of the Temple, the kohanim sacrificed animals in order to atone for the people. The kapparot ritual explicitly states that the rooster serves as atonement, and the rooster is then killed. Despite some people’s claims that kapparot is not a true sacrifice, it clearly mimics the Temple’s sacrificial procedures, and intends to accomplish the same goal. The Mishnah Berurah (605:2) openly admits this, saying that kapparot is basically like a sacrifice. Indeed, an outsider would hardly be able to tell the difference. The problem is that the Torah forbids bringing sacrifices anywhere other than the place that God specifically designates (Deut. 12:5-6), which was the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. The Torah also commands that only kohanim are allowed to oversee sacrificial procedures. From this perspective alone, kapparot is contrary to the Torah.

Thirteen Years of Pain

Secondly, kapparot fits squarely under the category of unnecessary cruelty to animals. Commenting on the verse in Psalms (145:9) which states that God has mercy and compassion upon all of His creations, Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch wrote:

Here you are faced with God’s teaching which obliges you not only to refrain from inflicting unnecessary pain on any animal, but to help and, when you can, to lessen the pain whenever you see an animal suffering, even through no fault of yours.
(Horeb, Chapter 60, Section 416)

The Jewish Sages have always been concerned about animal welfare. The Talmud considers it a Torah mitzvah to treat animals with respect and prevent any harm to them (Bava Metzia 32b), so much so that one is allowed to violate various Shabbat prohibitions to help a suffering animal (Shabbat 128b). Let us not forget the story of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, who suffered excruciating pains for thirteen years. Why was he afflicted with such pain?

A calf was being taken to the slaughter when it broke away, hid its head under [Rabbi Yehuda’s] clothes, and lowed [in terror]. “Go”, he said, “for this you were created.” Thereupon it was said [in Heaven], “Since he has no pity, let us bring suffering upon him.”
(Bava Metzia 85a)

The great Rabbi Yehuda – the compiler of the Mishnah – made one uncompassionate remark to a fearful calf that was about to be slaughtered. For this, Heaven rained upon him tremendous pain – six years of kidney stones, and seven of scurvy, so unbearable that his cries could be heard over three miles away. When did his suffering end?

One day [Rabbi Yehuda’s] maidservant was sweeping the house; [seeing] some young weasels lying there, she made to sweep them away. “Let them be,” he said to her; “It is written, ‘And his tender mercies are over all his works.’” It was said [in Heaven], “Since he is compassionate, let us be compassionate to him.”

Rabbi Yehuda quotes the same verse (Psalms 145:9) that Rav Hirsch expounded upon, and has mercy on the young animals in his home. For this, his suffering is finally taken away. If even one little remark to an animal is worth thirteen years of suffering, how much more so if an animal is swung around wildly, then slaughtered needlessly – which is precisely what happens with kapparot. (It has also been pointed out that chickens used in kapparot are usually starving and thirsty, and often have their limbs dislocated or bones broken during the procedure.)

Idolatrous Practices

Lastly, kapparot appears to be connected with various idolatrous practices and non-Jewish customs. The Ramban, among others, considered it darkei emori, the way of idolaters. The Shulchan Arukh, the central halachic text of Judaism, is also staunchly opposed to kapparot, and its author, Rabbi Yosef Karo, called it a “foolish custom”.

Many modern-day authorities, too, from across the Torah-observant world, have been vocally against kapparot. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and the entire Brisker rabbinic lineage before him opposed the custom, considering it irrational. The rabbi of Beit El and rosh yeshiva of Ateret Yerushalaim, Shlomo Chaim Aviner, a prominent authority within the Dati Leumi community, has described it as a “superstition”. And the former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, Chaim David HaLevy, beautifully wrote in his Aseh Lekha Rav:

Why should we, specifically on the eve of the holy day of Yom Kippur, be cruel to animals for no reason, and slaughter them without mercy, just as we are about to request compassion for ourselves from the living God?

Kapparot with Money

While it is clearly evident that one should completely avoid kapparot with chickens, some might argue that it is still worth doing kapparot with money. The problem is that the procedure and text are still the same: waving coins or bills over one’s head, stating that the money serves as an atonement, and that donating it will save one’s life.

The truth is that there is no need to do this at all, since any giving to charity automatically fulfils a mitzvah, assists in one’s repentance and atonement, and is said to be life-saving. The Talmud famously tells us (Bava Batra 10a) that charity is the greatest of all forces, and quotes the verse in Proverbs that “charity saves from death” (10:2).

Thus, any charitable contribution, at any time of the year, already does what kapparot claims to do. And so, awkwardly waving money around one’s head and reciting the kapparot verses is nothing more than a funny-looking waste of time, associated with a cruel, idolatrous, nonsensical, and nonJewish custom.

In his list of the 613 Torah mitzvot, the Rambam (who was also opposed to kapparot) lists the 185th positive commandment of the Torah as eradicating any traces of idolatry from Israel. Since many great Sages held the view that kapparot is associated with idolatrous ways, including the Ramban, Rashba, and the authoritative Shulchan Arukh, it is undoubtedly a mitzvah to not only avoid kapparot, but to encourage others to abandon this practice, and to expunge it from Judaism.

Wishing you a fulfilling and uplifting Yom Kippur. Gmar Chatima Tova!

How Did Adam Live 930 Years?

This week’s parasha is Vayelech, which begins with Moses’ statement that “Today I am one hundred and twenty years old” (Deut. 31:2). It was the 7th of Adar, Moses’ birthday, and also his day of passing. Moses goes on to conclude his final speech to the people, then sings a deeply prophetic farewell song in next week’s portion Ha’azinu, followed by his blessings to the people in the last parasha of the Torah, V’Zot HaBracha.

Moses was the greatest of all prophets, the humblest man to walk the earth, and the central founding figure of Judaism. He was blessed with living a full and healthy life spanning exactly 120 years. It has become common today for people to wish each other 120 years of life. Why is this the specific figure? Can humans not live longer? Don’t we see in Genesis that Adam lived 930 years, Noah lived 950 years, and Methuselah (Metushelach) lived a record 969 years? What happened?

The Flood Generation

Ten generations from Adam, the world had descended into endless sin and immorality. God decreed that man’s days “will be numbered at one hundred and twenty” (Genesis 6:3). Many believe this to mean that God decreed humans will no longer be able to live past 120 years. Indeed, when looking at modern records of longevity, the vast majority of the world’s oldest people die close to 120 years. There has only been one official case of anyone exceeding 120, a Frenchwoman named Jeanne Calment who lived 122 years.

However, the traditional Jewish interpretation is that the Genesis verse above does not mean man is unable to live past 120. After all, our forefathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lived long after this decree, and they lived 175, 180, and 147 years, respectively. Rather, the Jewish Sages state that God decreed the arrival of the Great Flood 120 years hence. God gave mankind 120 years to repent, and possibly avert the Flood. Noah was commissioned to go around and inspire people to mend their ways, and he had 120 years to do it.

Unfortunately, Noah failed in this endeavour, unable to bring even a single person to righteousness (as the Ark only carried his own family at the end). This is one reason for why the Flood is known in Hebrew as mabul Noach, literally “Noah’s Flood” (or mei Noach, “Noah’s waters”), as if he was partially responsible for not doing enough to inspire people to change. Because of this, many (including Rashi) have commented on the verse “Noah was a righteous and pure man in his generation” (Genesis 6:9) to mean that Noah was only righteous in his faulty generation. Had he lived in another generation, such as that of Abraham, he would not have been deemed so righteous!

We see from the Biblical chronology that after the Flood, people’s life spans steadily shorten. Moses’ older siblings Aaron and Miriam lived 123 and 126 years. Moses died at 120, and this appears to have become the new limit. After Moses, there are only a few people noted to have lived longer, one of which is Yehoyada the High Priest, who lived 130 years (II Chronicles 24:16).

What accounts for this steady degeneration in longevity?

Yeridat HaDorot

The Talmud (Shabbat 112b) states: “If the earlier [scholars] were sons of angels, we are sons of men; and if the earlier [scholars] were sons of men, we are like asses…” This is one of many passages that attests to the well-known concept of yeridat hadorot, “the descent of the generations”. It is said that each passing generation falls lower and lower in its wisdom and spiritual greatness. This concept can solve the puzzle of longevity.

The body is a finite lump of matter. It is only animated and vitalized by the infinite soul within it. Thus, the greater the soul, the longer the body can live. As the spiritual potential in each generation falls, so too does the lifespan.

Moreover, it is taught that Adam contained essentially all of the souls of humanity within him (Sha’ar HaGilgulim, ch. 11). As more and more people were born over the centuries, this single universal soul broke down further and further into smaller and smaller fragments. With the exception of a number of “new souls”, the vast majority of the world’s 7 billion people are all parts of the soul of Adam. It is therefore not surprising that today’s spiritual capabilities (and with that, the lifespans) are severely limited.

At the Speed of Light

Science may offer another intriguing possibility. According to modern physics, time as we know it doesn’t really exist. The universe is one interwoven fabric of both time and space. The faster one moves through space, the slower the effects of time for that person. There is actually a formula to measure the impact of this time dilation, known as the Lorentz transformation. It is given by the equation ΔT = t√1-v2/c2, where v is one’s speed and c is the speed of light.

Theoretically, the speed of light is the absolute maximum in our universe. At light speed (just under 3.00 x 108 m/s, or 300,000 km/s), time will totally stop for the traveller (if plugging it into the formula, one gets a value of zero). This seems impossible. However, if we plug in a value very close to light speed, such as 2.99 x 108 m/s, we get a very interesting result.* A person who has perceived living 80 years will have actually lived 980 earthly years! That makes Adam’s 930 years a more palatable 76, and Methuselah’s record 969 as 79. This fits in well with the verse in Psalms that a normal lifespan is 70 to 80 years (Psalms 90:10). But how could Adam and Methuselah have lived at near-light speed?

Beautifully, the Sages teach us that Adam was not a human like us. In many texts (such as Bereshit Rabbah 20:12), Adam is described not simply as a being of flesh, but rather as a being of light. Though most will interpret this metaphorically, there are those sages, such as the Arizal (for example, in Sefer HaLikutim, Bereshit, ch. 3) that interpret this quite literally. It remains to be seen what this means exactly, and if it has anything at all to do with physics, but perhaps there is much more to the idea of Adam being a man of light than we can imagine.

Adam and Eve - Beings of Light, as portrayed in the film Noah (2014)

Adam and Eve – Beings of Light, as portrayed in the film ‘Noah’ (2014)

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*To be fair, choosing a value such as 2.99 x 108 m/s may be deemed quite arbitrary. One can also plug in finer values even closer to the speed of light, such as 2.997 or 2.9972, and so on, each of which would give a more refined result. The point of this exercise is simply to illustrate the relativity of time, and what might explain the difference in perceived years between our generations and those of the first people, through a scientific perspective.

Why is Rosh Hashanah The New Year?

This Sunday evening is the start of Rosh Hashanah. It is well-known that this day, the first of the month of Tishrei, is the Jewish New Year. It is also well-known that Rosh Hashanah is “Judgement Day”, when everyone’s merits and sins are placed on a scale and each person is written into the Book of Life, or the Book of Death. What’s amazing is that neither of these ideas are actually recorded in the Torah!

The Torah does not describe the first day of the month of Tishrei as either “Rosh Hashanah”, a new year, or as a “judgement day”. All that the Torah states is that this day is a yom teruah, a day to blow the shofar (Numbers 29:1), and a day of zikhron, “remembrance” (Leviticus 23:24). More puzzling is that Tishrei is the seventh month on the Jewish calendar, and not the first (which is Nisan). So, where does the idea of the first of Tishrei being a new year come from? And why is it a day of judgement?

'Hasidic Jews Performing Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah' by Aleksander Gierymski (1884)

‘Hasidic Jews Performing Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah’ by Aleksander Gierymski (1884)

Four New Years

The Talmudic tractate of Rosh Hashanah begins by stating that there are actually four new years on the Jewish calendar. First of these is Nisan, the first month of the calendar, and “the new year for kings and festivals”. Elul, the sixth month, is the new year for cattle tithes. Tu B’Shvat is the new year for trees. And the first of Tishrei is the “new year for years”, as well as for Jubilees and vegetable tithes.

The Talmud goes on to debate why the first of Tishrei is the new year of years. Some argue that the years should start in Nisan, while others suggest it may even be in Iyar or Sivan (the second and third months of the calendar). Based on an analysis of a number of Torah verses, the conclusion is that the new year should be in Tishrei, for this ensures the best Torah chronology.

The Talmud then suggests that Nisan is the new year for Jews, while Tishrei is the new year for all of mankind. This makes sense in light of the tradition that Adam and Eve were created on the first of Tishrei. As they are the ancestors of all human beings, their birthday is the new year for all of humanity. The new year for Jews specifically, though, is in Nisan, since it is in Nisan that the Jews were taken out of Egypt and headed towards Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah and officially become a nation.

Judgement Day

According to tradition, Adam and Eve ate of the Forbidden Fruit on the very same day that they were created. After partaking of the fruit, they were judged by God, and exiled from Eden. Not surprisingly, then, that same day became associated not just with a new year, but with judgement, too. By consuming the fruit, Adam and Eve brought death into the world (Genesis 2:17). It is therefore appropriate that on Rosh Hashanah, the books of life and death are opened, and each person is inscribed therein.

Based on Deuteronomy 11:12, the Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 8a) concludes that one’s entire forthcoming year is set on Rosh Hashanah. The verse states that God’s “eyes”, so to speak, are set mereshit hashanah v’ad acharit hashanah, “from the beginning of the year, and to the end of the year”, and so, the Sages interpret that the entire year is already pre-destined from the start of the year.

The Sages then ask: how do we know that this judgement day is on the first of Tishrei? Psalms 81:4-5 states, “Blow the shofar on the new moon; at the full moon is our festival. For it is a statute for Israel, a sentence of the God of Jacob.” This verse just about ties it all together. It tells us that the day of shofar blowing is on the new moon (the first of the month), and on the full moon is the festival. This festival is Sukkot, which is celebrated on the 15th of Tishrei – a full moon. The Psalm continues by saying it is a mishpat, literally a court ruling or a sentence, a clear allusion to judgement.

[Although the verse in Psalms specifically refers to Israel and Jacob, the Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 8b) assures us that all of mankind is judged, and the verse in Psalms simply means that Israel is judged first.]

The Last Piece of Evidence

There is one more verse that can be used to conclude that the first of Tishrei is a new year, and is tied to the day of judgement. The term Rosh Hashanah is, in fact, mentioned in the Tanakh, just once, in the Book of Ezekiel. Chapter 40 begins by stating, “In the twenty-fifth year of our captivity, in the beginning of the year [b’Rosh Hashanah], in the tenth day of the month, in the fourteenth year after the city was smitten, on that day, the hand of Hashem was upon me, and He brought me there…”

Ezekiel writes that on the tenth day into the new year he received a prophecy from God. As explicitly recorded in the Torah, the tenth of Tishrei is Yom Kippur. On this day, and this day alone, the High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies and receive a divine revelation. Ezekiel himself was a priest, but in his day the Temple was already destroyed (as the verse above tells us, it was fourteen years after Jerusalem’s destruction). If there was ever an auspicious time for a priest to receive a prophecy, it would be Yom Kippur – the tenth of Tishrei. Thus, it is highly probable that the Rosh Hashanah that Ezekiel refers to is the first of Tishrei.

And so, although the Torah does not explicitly say so, a careful analysis of Biblical and Talmudic verses reveals that the first of Tishrei – the day of shofar blowing – is indeed a new year, and a day of judgement.

Wishing You a Shana Tova v’Metuka!