by Avigail Simmonds Rosten, CCJ Programme Manager

Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of creation in the Jewish calendar. It will also be the first Rosh Hashanah since my daughter was born. I have chosen to reflect on this aspect of life, but in no way wish to limit or prescribe womanhood or the birthing experience. I recognise that many people struggle to have children and that many chose not to. I in no way intend to question the deep validity of these realities and choices.

 

Until now, the concept of creation was an abstract one, metaphorical even. Becoming a mother has made that concept tangible for me. It has brought together the most physical and spiritual moments of my existence. All that is created by G-d requires labour to perfect, no more than life itself. Within Jewish thought human beings are divinely instructed to cultivate the world which G-d created yet creation ex nihilo is a uniquely divine act. However, we are also instructed to emulate the divine (Leviticus 19:2), a commandment which is immediately followed by the instruction to honour one’s parents and observe the Sabbath. The question of this juxtaposition is raised by commentators. The sages offer an answer, but I would like to offer another.

Perhaps the reason there is no separate commandment for women to have children as there is for men in Jewish law (Genesis 1:28, 9:1, Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 65b), is because women are already commanded in this regard, when they are told to emulate G-d through the verse in Leviticus 19:2.  This is the starkest imitation of G-d possible. The following commandments of honouring one’s parents and observing the Sabbath, far from random, draw this connection between parents and the creator of the world – a moment commemorated through the Sabbath. In creating and sustaining life, one creates a world (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5).

The closest to G-d a human being can get is in the creation of life, the source of all things which gives hope; starts anew and refreshes the cycle of creation. Indeed, the greatest labour of love is that of a parent to child, beginning with a woman’s labour itself. Perhaps the resultant pain of women’s labour far from being a punishment for the discovery of knowledge in Eden, was in fact a natural and inevitable consequence of it. For if one knows the risk of life, the true debate of creation, the pain and price of life follows. The physical trauma of birth perhaps intimates within it the psychological and spiritual profundity of the tear which is tied (literally) to the moment of creation. Cutting the cord between the experience of oneness and schism. 

Birth is not only creation, but severance. In order to create the world, G-d ‘withdrew’, creating not simply the space, but the concept of ‘outside of Herself’. G-d ‘birthed’ a reality over which She could influence, instruct and love but towards which She had granted independence by virtue of allowing it to exist outside of Her, of granting otherness, and further than this, free choice. The Chassidik language for this process is ‘TzimTzum’. The Lubavitche Rebbe expounds the idea of divinity in all living things, indeed in the world as a whole – a remnant or trace of that initial creation, an ongoing presence of the Creator. There is nothing new under the sun, G-d withdrew Herself, but Her creation is infused with Her; no newborn is a tabula rasa, as once believed – but a genetic collage of their parents. There is no independent Human being, who stands alone from others or from creation.

However, when we think about our cultivation of the world, our place and role within it – there is deep turmoil. What can human beings do for good? Can kindness and justice overcome war and pain? Ultimately, can creating life ever be truly responsible? The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 8) attempts to enter the conscious ness of the Holy one Blessed be She in debating this very conundrum. It concludes ambiguously, and the question remains. Life is a foregone conclusion, despite the ethical dilemmas it entails.

Rav Simon said:

When the Holy One was about to create Adam,
the ministering angels formed themselves
into groups and companies,
some of them saying, “Let them be created,”
while others urged, “Let them not be created.”

Thus it is written,
“Love and truth fought each other,
righteousness and peace combated each other"

(Psalm 85:11).

Love said,
“Let them be created because they will perform acts of love.”
Truth said,
“Let them not be created because all of themselves will be falsehood.”
Righteousness said,
“Let them be created because they will do righteous deeds.”
Peace said,
“Let them not be created because they will be all strife.”

What did the Holy One do?
She took Truth and cast her to the ground,
as is said:
“You cast truth to the ground"

(Daniel 8:12).

The ministering angels dared say to the Holy One:
“Master of the Universe
why do You humiliate Your seal,
let Truth arise from the earth.”
Hence it is written:
“Let truth grow from the earth"

(Psalm 85:12).

The elder Rav Huna of Sepphoris said:
While the ministering angels were conferring
and disputing with one another,
the Holy One created Adam and then said:
“What are you conferring about, man is already made (ne’esah).”

 

So G-d chose to create, or had already created despite her omniscience. We are left wondering what tilted the scales in favour of creation at all. The answer of mystical authorities is that of abundant kindness or an overwhelming need to express love. It is this impulse, to which G-d, in the instant of creation responded – disregarding or minimising truth at its expense.

Over the days of Awe, Jews implore G-d in their prayer to again prioritise loving kindness over truth – repeating the following verse which establishes this order: (Exodus 34:6)

וַיַּעֲבֹ֨ר יְהוָ֥ה ׀ עַל־פָּנָיו֮ וַיִּקְרָא֒ יְהוָ֣ה ׀ יְהוָ֔ה אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶאֱמֶֽת ׀

יהוה passed before him and proclaimed: “!יהוה! יהוה a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and truth

 

First Day Reading

The Story of Sarah & Hagar

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Torah reading is Genesis 21. There are two intertwined narratives – both concerning mothers and children. In the first verse, G-d remembers Sarah and grants her pregnancy with Isaac. Though Sarah desires that her son’s inheritance not be shared with his half-brother Ishmael, G-d assures Abraham that Ishmael shall also create a nation. When Hagar and Ishmael are cast out into the desert, Hagar cries out for her son, and G-d heeds the cry of Ishamel, providing them water and life.

The two narratives portray the boundless, even problematic, love of mothers for their children. A love to which G-d responds, demanding Abraham heed Sarah, and saving the life of Hagar’s son. 

The story of Hannah

After this reading, the portion from prophets follows. The prayer of Hannah is publically read.

According to the Talmud in Berakot 31a Hannah entreated G-d as follows:

“You created in a woman, You have not created one in vain. Every organ fulfills its purpose; eyes to see, ears to hear, a nose to smell, a mouth to speak, hands with which to perform labor, feet with which to walk, breasts with which to nurse. If so, these breasts that You placed upon my heart, to what purpose did You place them? Was it not in order to nurse with them? Grant me a son and I will nurse with them.”

Hannah desires a child, she is dismissed by her husband – but she is heeded by G-d. Hannah’s prayer becomes paradigmatic of all prayer in the rabbinic tradition. The circle of creation, life to serve life, G-d’s gift which becomes a gift to G-d, is ever-present in this narrative.

The perfection of G-d’s creation lies in the creation of Human being’s ability to create, to recreate and to perfect, in the attempt to imitate G-d Herself. However, more crucial still, is the human capacity to reflect upon one’s own creation and the purpose or purposeless of it and to hold G-d to account for Her own creation/s. In the narrative, G-d remembers Hannah, and Hannah then offers her son, her own creation to G-d; Samuel the Prophet is created – a person who relays the message of G-d to Her creations, facilitation a connection between Creator and creations.

What was it that G-d remembered?

Why is memory relevant?

Why are these portions read on Rosh Hashanah?

 

Second Day Reading

The Binding of Isaac

On the second day of Rosh Hashanah the binding of Isaac is read. A portion which is famously littered with theological and textual questions. What is discernible perhaps most clearly, is that Sarah is not involved. Abraham is willing to carry out the will of G-d and yet ultimately the will of G-d is for Isaac to live.

One of the many symbolisms of the Shofar is that of the ram’s horn which was tangled in a nearby bush and was offered to G-d in place of Isaac. Another symbol of the sound of the shofar is the cry of Sisera’s mother upon hearing of his death (Judges 5:28-30) (Talmud Rosh Hashanah 33b). The Midrash suggests that Sarah’s death in the next chapter of Genesis was a consequence of her receiving the news of her son’s near death (Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 32). What does this reading mean in the context of the first day’s reading? Is it possible a father’s love can be overcome by the will of G-d, but that the will of G-d can be overcome by a mother’s love?

On Rosh Hashanah are Jews trying to promise to fulfil the will of G-d and emulate Abraham – promising to set aside themselves for the sake of Heaven and renew their yoke of Torah. Or are we trying to undo the will of G-d and invoke Her boundless love in place of Her exacting truth and justice?

The messages of our prayers and passages are mixed.

Rosh Hashanah {The Head of the Year} is also referred to as Yom Hazikaron {The Day of Remembrance} as well as Yom Hadin {The day of Judgement}. The name ‘Rosh Hashanah’ refers to the beginningness of this day – the way in which it starts something new, a new year, a new chance, a new mandate for change. Yet Yom Hazicharon is a name which harks backward – towards a memory.

What is this memory? There are many possible answers, the memory of the binding of Isaak (a declaration of ultimate submission to the will of G-d), G-d’s memory of Sarah and Hannah, or the memory of promises made to ensure the endurance of the Jewish people.

However, I would like to suggest there is a memory preceding this, the memory of creation itself – a memory G-d has – or we imagine She must have – of weighing up the nature and impact of human existence. Of knowing those risks, and taking them nonetheless. A memory of motherhood, of overwhelming love. Perhaps this is the intention of Psalm 85. We, in a desperate moment of Chutzpa remind G-d that She signed off on human imperfection. It is this Psalm which is quoted by the Midrash in its Socratic method which investigates this insoluble first instance of creation – the ‘relinquish’ of unity and perfection. This is our method in facing Yom Hadin {The Day of Judgement} for which we are ill-prepared. The Torah gives us a hint to this, referring to Rosh Hashanah as “שַׁבָּת֔וֹן זִכְר֥וֹן תְּרוּעָ֖ה” a memorial Sabbath of blasts (Leviticus 23:24) – referring to the Sabbath, the memorial and the Shofar as three aspects of Rosh Hashanah. The cry of the shofar is a sounding of the memory of creation.

We cannot honestly stand in the face of divine truth and justice. We choose to remind G-d that judgement alone would have prevented our very being. It was loving-kindness which bore us, let it be loving-kindness which judges us.

In the utopia we hope each year to build during the next we aim to synthesise the dichotomy of the elements which argued for and against human creation.

Psalms 85:11-12

חֶסֶד־וֶאֱמֶ֥ת נִפְגָּ֑שׁוּ צֶ֖דֶק וְשָׁל֣וֹם נָשָֽׁקוּ׃
Faithfulness and truth meet;
justice and well-being kiss.

אֱ֭מֶת מֵאֶ֣רֶץ תִּצְמָ֑ח וְ֝צֶ֗דֶק מִשָּׁמַ֥יִם נִשְׁקָֽף׃
Truth springs up from the earth;
justice looks down from heaven.

 

Each year we fall short and cry out through the Shofar a mother’s cry for love to trump truth as it did upon creation.