Solemn Joy
This day of Rosh Hashana is celebrated in Solemn Joy. Not a raucous party, but not stoic or sober either. It is marked by a joy that is majestic, a joy that has its source in the depths of our humanity. Psalm 46 says, “Nahar, p’lagav y’samchu Ir Elohim.” There is a river; its streams water the cities of God.” Rashi, the great medieval commentator asks, “What river is this?” and then concludes that it is the river that flows forth from the Garden of Eden, the place where we all come from, the garden of delight. The river that flows out from this garden of perfection is still flowing, but it has become an underground river that branches out in many streams beneath our feet. Right now as we sit here, it is flowing deep through the holy ground of our lives. It is the river that connects us with our Source and quenches the thirst that underlies all thirst. This river of solemn joy, ever present beneath the surface, invites us to dig deep within this here and now to find the truth of our liberation. Judaism provides the shovel.
Our inheritance is a treasure chest filled with tools that can help us to dig beneath the surface of our lives, to find meaning here and now, to act in ways that reveal the essential mystery of Creation and our interconnection with all life. When we are connected to that river of joy, then we have the strength and inspiration to participate consciously in our own evolution. These treasured tools are language, story, culture, the rhythm of the festivals, music and the ancient dreams that were born of the wilderness.
These tools are sometimes locked away, and hidden behind a great misunderstanding. And then the river of solemn joy flows on beneath us while we become dry and crusty and bitterly imprisoned on the surface of things. It is as if this great misunderstanding is the concrete pavement separating us from the ground of our being.
As a rabbi I often receive the brunt of this misunderstanding. People come to me with questions about how they should live their lives and they see Judaism as a set of rules. If you just follow these rules then everything will be fine. Tell me what’s kosher and what’s treif. Tell me the words that should be said on this occasion. What will make me yotzei? What is the Halacha?
The word Halacha means, “The Way,” the Tao. It is the spirit of guidance, manifested, that helps us take the next step in our journey. Originally Halacha was something fluid. Torah was interpreted anew for each generation according to principles of goodness and kindness and justice. “Every day the Torah should seem to you as if it had been given on that day,” says the Midrash.
The word Mitzvot, usually translated as commandments, has in its Aramaic root the meaning of connection. Through the Mitzvot we can connect with our Source. With every spiritual practice I do and with every prayer I say, I ask the question, “Is this working?” Is it connecting me to that river of solemn joy, to the truth hidden inside this moment? Does this practice make me more compassionate? Does this prayer open my heart, expand the boundaries of soul, connect me to others? Or does it separate me, blind me to beauty, make me more judgmental, dull my senses? If so then it cannot be Torah, for Torah can only be “Darchei Noam,” the ways of pleasantness. If it doesn’t grow my love then it isn’t Torah, for Torah is a manifestation of the Great Love, the “Ahava Raba” with which God loves us.
Our generation, like each generation of Jews has done before us, must enter in to the holy conversation of our tradition. It is a conversation across time and distance that dies if we refuse to hold up our end. We do this by reaching in to Torah, into the treasure of our inheritance, in search of answers to the questions of our time, to deal with the dilemmas, the crises of body, heart, mind and soul that so urgently call. And here is the misunderstanding: You think that receiving is a passive thing, that the truth is already formed, that someone else’s Torah will speak to you, that the Torah of the past will suffice. Or you think that our tradition is something fixed, and if it doesn’t fit your sensibilities, you’ll just look elsewhere.
Reaching in to the Torah means that you must participate in a process and be part of the conversation. You must dig down beneath the soil of your everyday life and find its holiness.
A Chasid asked his Rebbe, “How can I best serve God?” expecting to hear a profound and esoteric answer. The Rebbe replied, “You can best serve God with whatever you are doing at the moment.”
On this day of turning, we turn to ourselves with forgiveness and compassion and speak to ourselves this challenge: How can I make my life holy, moment by moment? How can I tap into that underground river that flows beneath my feet?
When we reach in to Torah we receive its essence through word, music, or story and then mingle that essence with our own desire. That mingling happens in the innermost reaches of the heart. To participate in this process we must cultivate and nurture an inner life. And we must create a life that is spacious enough that we can pay attention to the subtle shiftings of the heart, to the still small voice that is forever whispering to us the truth of who we are becoming. Psalm 95 says “HaYom” You will experience the infinite treasure of this present moment, “Im b’kolo tishma-u.” If only you would listen to that voice.
On this day “The Great Shofar is sounded, and the still small voice is heard.” On this day we take drastic measures to tear away the veils of distraction and busyness by surrendering to that great primal call which holds in it both the wailing tears and the fierce battle cry. It clears away a space inside us and gives us an opportunity to listen to the still small voice.
I challenge everyone, myself included, to make a firm resolve to find time each day for listening. When we hear that river of solemn joy flowing beneath our feet, may we have the patience and faith to dig. And may we continue to share with each other the treasures that we find.
©2002 Shefa Gold. All rights reserved.