OzTorah

Today’s sidra derives its name, as sidrot always do, from the first important Hebrew word. In this case it is Nitzavim, “standing”. It tells us, “You are all standing today before the Lord your God” (Deut. 29:9).

“Standing” has many meanings. It can indicate standing as opposed to sitting. It can denote standing in the sense of being in attendance. It can mean taking a stand. Probably all are true in the context of this passage.

When the people stood they were not sitting, though sitting is a regular part of being Jewish – like sitting at Seder, or sitting to study the Torah – but at this moment they were like soldiers obeying the call to attention. Soldiers in this position are ready for inspection by their commander; we on the threshold of Rosh HaShanah are ready for Divine scrutiny. Some people might cherish the hope that God will not notice them, but when the Creator wants to check His creatures, no-one can hide.

The people were also standing in the sense of being in attendance. The sages say that the number of Israelites reflected the number of letters in the Torah. Every Israelite had a personal letter, as each has a place in the Jewish destiny. Sometimes a Jew tries to opt out, but it never works; in the end the only choice is to affirm our Jewish identity.

The Israelites were standing in the further sense of taking a stand. When the time comes to say “Amen” we can never simply say “maybe”. Taking a stand requires tremendous moral courage. That in the last analysis is what Rosh HaShanah is all about – courage, not cowardice; reliability, not irresponsibility; boldly saying “Amen” and striding into the future.

When Moses taught the people there were constant grumbles. They were happy enough to accept their freedom from slavery, but why did they have to obey so many commandments? His answer was, “The commandment which I command you today is neither too hard for you, nor is it too far away” (Deut. 30:11).

“Too far away” means “beyond your capacity”, or in other words more fitted to angels in heaven than to human beings trying to live a life on earth. “Too hard” might mean what it says, but the Malbim points out that the Hebrew nif’let actually means “wonderful”. It can’t mean “wonderful” in the modern sense of amazing – but what it does mean is “based on wonders”.

The foundation of Judaism is not miracles that might at some stage of ancient history have been worked by a wonder-worker. There are certainly miracles in the Torah, but the truth claims of Judaism do not depend on the wonder-workers. The Torah is true because history and reason both agree that its teachings are comprehensible, reasonable and good. The God-given miracles on the Torah only reinforce what we already knew. There are chukkim – statutes which seem to be above or beyond the human mind. We do not resort to blind faith but say, “God, there must be a reason behind the law; we will be patient until You reveal it to us”.

Q. Is there a minimum length for a shofar?

A. The longest shofars are made by the Yemenites, who use the horn of the kudu from India, Persia or Ethiopia. Their spiral shofarot can be as much as four feet long. The minimum length however is four inches, yet such short shofarot can sometimes produce very loud blasts.

A shofar must not have any holes apart from the one which the ba’al t’ki’ah puts to his mouth. Shofarot must not be painted to change their colour but may be decorated with geometrical patterns, Biblical verses or the name of the synagogue or private owner. The shofar must come from a kosher animal such as a sheep, goat, gazelle or even an antelope. The preference is for the ram’s horn because it recalls the ram offered by Abraham in place of his son Isaac, and also because its curved shape symbolises our duty to bend our will to the Almighty’s.

Unlike a trumpet, a shofar has no mouthpiece, and it requires considerable skill to blow it. A ba’al t’ki’ah who puffs and pants to produce a note is no expert; the shofar requires chochmah v’einah m’lachah, “skill, not hard work”.

Q. Who thought of counting years from the Creation?

A. The original method of dating years was from the accession of kings of Israel and Judah. During the Persian period of Biblical history, years were calculated according to the accession of non-Jewish kings as a mark of respect for the regime and presumably in the hope that the king would treat his Jewish subjects kindly. For a short time, years were dated from the destruction of the Second Temple. By the medieval period, it had become customary to count years from the Creation.

A number of chronological works, especially the Seder Olam (attributed to the 2nd century CE), attempted to fix a date for Creation by working through the Biblical accounts of how long people lived in various generations and how many years various eras (e.g. the period of the first and second Temples) lasted.

Q. High Holyday sermons may be good for rabbis but most of the congregation squirm. How long should a sermon be?

A. A journalist once reported in a daily paper that a sermon she heard from me had surprised her by being so short. In contrast, the great maggidim (itinerant preachers) could go on for hours and have their audience rivetted to their seats, still asking for more. These days, people’s needs are different and their patience is less. There are three issues with sermons – content, architecture and delivery.

The content must have some substance, combine the new and the old, and leave the congregation feeling, “We learned something today!” But a sermon is not a lecture, the synagogue is not a university lecture room, and the congregation are not usually academically trained. The sermon must have architecture; the audience must see evidence of design, with the speaker making a point, weaving it into a general outline and leading to a conclusion.

The conclusion is extremely important. No preacher should be floundering to find a way of finishing nor indulge in a long and complicated peroration. A little boy sat in church with his father during a lengthy, disjointed sermon and asked, “Daddy, when is he going to finish?” “He finished long ago,” the father whispered, “but he doesn’t know it yet!”

The delivery of the sermon must be lively; sometimes the voice must be a violin, sometimes the cymbals. It may be appropriate to have extensive notes or even a written-out text, but more important is the rapport with the audience.