The Philosophical Showdown
Sermon, September 15, 2006
Rabbi Bruce Kadden

(Polly walks in front of congregation holding up to the congregation her sign which says: “Repent!  This could be your last day.”)

Rabbi:  What are you doing, Polly?

Polly:  I’m getting ready for the High Holidays.  They begin next week, right?

Rabbi:  Yes they do.  What does the sign say?

Polly:  (Faces rabbi.):  “Repent!  This could be your last day.”

Rabbi:  “Repent!  This could be your last day?”

Polly:  Yeah.  You taught us that this is the time of year to repent.

Rabbi:  I sure did.  I guess you are right.  It is time to repent.

(Jered walks in front of the congregation holding up to the congregation his sign which says:  “Rejoice!  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”)

Rabbi:  And what are you doing?

Jered:  I’m getting ready for the High Holidays, too.

Rabbi:  Let me guess.  You want people to repent.

Jered:  No.  Not really.

Rabbi:  Then what does your sign say?

Jered:  Rejoice!  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Rabbi:  Rejoice.  Today is the first day of the rest of your life?

Jered:  Yeah.  It is the new year, a time of renewal, a chance to start over.

Rabbi:  Can’t argue with that.  I guess you are right.  It is a time to rejoice.

Third person:  Wait a second.  She is right.  He is right.  How can they both be right?

It is indeed the new year, a time to rejoice and a time to repent, a time to look back at our actions of the past year, and a time to look ahead with anticipation to the coming year.  It is, in a sense, both the last day and the first day of the rest of our lives.

And it is precisely remembering that it is both the first day and the last day of the rest of our lives which makes it so meaningful.

The message to repent comes through load and clear in our liturgy.  One of the names for Rosh Hashanah is Yom HaDin, Day of Judgment.  We begin the process of repentance before the holiday, asking for forgiveness from those we might have offended, so that we are prepared to ask God’s forgiveness. 

Repentance should not be a once-a-year activity.  The daily liturgy includes a prayer for repentance among the intermediate prayers of the Amidah.  We are encouraged to immediately ask forgiveness of those that we offend, rather than let bad feelings linger.  This season, though, provides us one last opportunity to reflect on what we have done during the past year and to ask forgiveness, so that we can begin the new year with a clean slate.

One way that our tradition reminds us of the urgency of repentance is by focusing our attention on death at this time of year.  Rabbi Yitz Greenberg teaches that during the High Holy Days Judaism “guides the individual to take up the challenge of death on three levels.”  The first level is to recognize that “routine and stagnation are forms of death in life…. The awareness of being judged for life and death is a stimulus to stop living routinely.”

The second level in which we encounter death, according to Rabbi Greenberg is by focusing on the vulnerability of life and the limits of our existence.  This level is symbolized by the themes of judgment and trial.  We stand before God and our deeds are placed on a scale; our very life is in the balance, and one deed can tip the scale one way or the other and make the difference between life and death.

Finally, at the third level, we move to “living out death on Yom Kippur.”  Traditionally, Jews wear a white kittel, similar to the burial shroud.  We abstain from eating, drinking, washing and sexual relations as if to cut ourselves from the world.  We recite a confessional similar to the traditional confessional recited before death.  And we even conclude the day with the last words that we are supposed to say in our lives, the Sh’ma.  The rituals are designed to impress upon us that this, indeed, could be our last day.

Now, if that were the extent of things, if that is all there were to it, then it would be a morose, depressing time, devoid of hope and optimism.  If we only thought about death and our mortality, it would be pretty dismal.

But that is not the case, because at the same time we are focusing on repentance and death, we are focusing on rejoicing and life. 

Rosh Hashanah is, according to tradition, the anniversary of creation.  It is a time to celebrate the birthday of the world.  We have made it another year, not without challenges, not without pain and suffering, but we have made it nevertheless.  And that is something worth celebrating. 

We dip apples in honey, looking forward to a year of sweetness and joy.  We recite a special Kiddush over wine, sanctifying the Day of Remembrance and we include the Shehecheyanu blessing thanking God for enabling us to reach this season. 

Some scholars suggest that in the ancient Near East, coronation festivals took place in the fall and that Judaism adapted this practice, making Rosh Hashanah the coronation of God, the King of Kings.  This too is something worth celebrating.  We should indeed rejoice, because it is the first day of the rest of our lives.

Now, if this were the only theme of the holiday, if it were only a celebration of the new year, then it would be no different than our secular new year, a time for partying, but not for serious reflection.  We would have a great time, but that would be about it.

The genius of Judaism is that it has made the High Holy Days both a time to rejoice and a time to repent.  We are to seriously reflect on our sins of the past year, asking forgiveness of those we have offended and of God.  At the same time we are to look ahead to the coming year, celebrating a new beginning. 

So, rather than argue about who is right and who is wrong, rather than bash each other over the heads with their signs, Polly and Jered can walk together Yad b’Yad, hand in hand, knowing that this season is an end and a beginning, it is both the last day and the first day, a time to repent and rejoice, to reflect and to celebrate, to look back and to look ahead.

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