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Reflections
...and Recollections
Rosh Hashanah Is Different
by DAVID SCHWARTZ
Rosh Hashanah was so different
from the secular New Year. It was
so differently obsrved, too. The
secular New Year’s Day was gay
and hilarious. Ours was solemn.
Despite our clothing stores and
what not, we Jews seemed to be a
God-intoxicated people.
It came, too, at such a different
time. Like Emma Lazarus said, not
when “the naked branches point
to frozen skies” but when “the or
chards burn with fiery gold, the
grape glows like a precious jewel”
and nature teems with abundance.
We lived in a small town and on
Rosh Hashanah even the non-Jews
seemed to get something of the
spirit of the day, for they must
have felt that the Jews took on a
kind of holiness on that day. And
this spirit must have been con
tagious, as any form of sincerity
is. At least, so I felt.
Who is a Jew and who is not?
That question was frequently asked
by our elders and there were many
divergencies of opinion. If a man
didn’t keep Sabbath, was he a Jew?
If he ate forbidden food, was he a
Jew? On Rosh Hashanah, the ques
tion seemed to settle itself. Every
one who refrained from work was
a Jew.
We children sensed the agitation
of the day in our parents’ minds.
We heard papa say that if a man
committed a wrong against his
neighbor, he must go and ask for
giveness, for in the synagogue, only
sins against God could be forgiven.
Sins against man must be for
given by the man sinned against.
Rosh Hashanah had a lot to do
with sins. You go to the river and
cast your sins into the water. We
had a little lake in our town and I
guess a lot of its mud came from
our sins. I sometimes fancy that
many pretty flowers would grow on
some of this mud, for it seems to me
that there are many little sins that
really have much to commend
them. If you give a person a little
of the honey of flattery, you may
sin against the truth, yet it is a
pretty thing for all that. Our real
sin is our want of fundamental
faith. Had we that, we should not
stoop to slander or hate which evi
dence the distrust of our own
powers.
The synagogues were jammed on
Rosh Hashanah. On that day a po
liceman stood in front of the syna
gogue in our town. I always re
sented his being there. Even in
those days we used to tell each
other the story about the man who
asked permission of the policeman
to go in for a moment to look for
a friend. The man had no ticket.
"AH right,” said the policeman,
"but if I catch you praying, God
help you.”
Most of the time it seemed there
were as many outside the syna
gogue talking as inside praying. It
was the day when the whole com
munity gathered for conversation.
We came to talk with God but we
stole some time to talk to each
other. I think God will forgive us
this theft. In fact, it is my belief
that God approves of it. I rather
think He frowns upon the more
modern, more decorous form of
worship, where everyone quietly
retires to his own hearth and fire
side after the services. The term
“religion,” I believe, means “to tie
together.”
How better can you tie people to
gether than having them talk to
one another? In the name of an in
sipid decorum, we latter-day Jews
have sacrificed much of the real
vitamins of religion.
The cantor put on his best per
formance on Rosh Hashanah, He
had been rehearsing for weeks and
likely as not he would spring some
new melody on the congregation.
The synagogue in those pre-radio
days was one place where the peo
ple got something like opera.
And then there was the blowing
of the shofar. You could under
stand why the ancient Hebrews
used the shofar to summon their
soldiery to combat. The piercing
sound seemed in harmony with the
day, when you read in your prayer
book:
“This day, all creatures of the
world stand in judgment.”
It sounded fearsome. We were
Misnagdim. The Chassidum took it
with less awe. Their rabbi, like
the great Isaac Leib of Berditchef,
who could call out, “Good morning,
God,” could demand of Providence
in a tone more peremptory than
prayer, that He grant Israel a
happy new year.
We saw our parents beat their
breasts as they confessed their sins.
I remember as a child being a little
taken aback at the amount of sin
ning that was confessed to in the
prayer book. Judging by the pray
ers, it appears that it was assumed
that every worshipper had com
mitted all the sins on the calendar.
We Jews seemed to say in our syn
agogues, no sin is alien to us.
And perhaps that is a healthy
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