I am pleased and honored to be able to occupy this morning the pulpit of my distinguished colleague, Rabbi Theodore Adams, one of the most eminent rabbinic leaders in our city. I also regard it as a distinct privilege to be able to participate in services in a synagogue with such a proud history. I am sure you join me in hoping and praying for the complete and speedy recovery of my honored colleague and your beloved rabbi. Perhaps the most appropriate prayer is a verse from the Psalms which we recite every Wednesday: "im amarti matah ragli, basdekha Hashem yisadeni," "when I said that my foot has slipped, then Your kindness, O Lord, supports me." May the kindness of the Lord be the only crutch your rabbi will need and the only support he will receive for many, many years to come. This Sabbath is known as Shabbat Ha-gadol, "the great Sabbath." Many reasons have been offered in our tradition for this distinctive name. Permit me to mention to you one which I regard as possessing special insight. Rabbi Jacob, author of the Turim, maintains that it is called by this name le-fi she-na'aseh bo nes gadol, because a great miracle, nes gadol, was performed on this day; the Hebrews who were yet slaves in Egypt dared to slaughter the lamb (regarded as the deity of the Egyptians) in defiance of their taskmasters, ve-lo hayu resha'in lomar la-hem davar – and the Egyptians were not able to protest or rebuke them. Shabbat Ha-gadol, in other words, celebrates the remarkable courage and the heroic conviction of the Children of Israel who reached new heights of fearlessness in their dedication to the Almighty. The nes gadol was not only a "great miracle" but also a "miracle of greatness" – Jews, heretofore diffident slaves, were able to take such risks for their beliefs, for their God!

Perhaps it is best to see this act of bravery and dedication in a larger context. All of the Bible, and all of Judaism, is the story of the dialogue between God and man. This dialogue can be approached from two aspects; it consists of two parts, depending upon who initiates the conversation. The Kabbalah speaks of itaruta di-le'elah, "the arousal from above," and itaruta di-le'tata, "the arousal from below." In the first place, it is God who, from above, addresses man; in the second case, it is man who, from below, seeks out his Creator. Ultimate bliss occurs when the "arouser" is answered, when God seeks out man and man responds or when man searches for God and God makes Himself accessible. Tragedy results when God calls out to man and receives no answer from his stony heart, or when man storms the gates of Heaven and receives no reaction from above.

The two months of Tishri and Nisan, coming at opposite times of the year, represent different facets of this great human–divine dialogue. Each of these months contains both elements of which we spoke, but each bears a different emphasis. Tishri begins with Rosh Ha-shanah and is followed by the "Ten Days of Penitence." This period is one of itaruta di-le'tata, where the dialogue begins with man's initiative. The Jew rises early in the morning for his Selihot prayers, he prays with greater conviction and intensity, he gives more charity than usual. Especially characteristic of this period is teshuvah, repentance, the great and all-encompassing search by man for God. But the climax of Tishri comes on Yom Kippur; this is the day, par excellence, of itaruta di-le'elah, the appearance by God from above as He seeks out man. For just as the theme of teshuvah reflects man's initiative, so the theme of Yom Kippur, which is kapparah (atonement or forgiveness), is an expression of God's address to man. On Tishri, therefore, we have both elements; but the first, man's gesture to God, is only the introduction to the climactic response of God to man on Yom Kippur.

Nisan too shows both elements. The holidays of this month begin with this day, Shabbat Ha-gadol, which, as we have mentioned, represents the bravery and fearlessness of the Jew in his loyalty to God: it is the itaruta di-le'tata. This leads to Passover in which we celebrate the historic exodus from Egypt, the time that God alone, with no assistance, performed the miracle of redemption: this is the itaruta di-le'elah, the initiative from above. But the climax of the whole story comes with the splitting of the Red Sea. And here, contrary to our usual impressions, the greatest part of the story is the heroism of man – specifically one man: Nachshon ben Aminadav, the prince of the tribe of Judah, who abandoned his life by stepping into the Red Sea, and through this act of heroism brought on the miracle of the splitting of the sea. This is the itaruta di-le'tata in its highest form.

Thus, each of the two seasons contains both elements, but the emphasis in each is different. In Tishri we stress God’s address to man, whereas in Nisan we emphasize man’s approach to God. Two terms may be used to differentiate between these two elements in the great human–divine dialogue. For the itaruta di-le'elah, the action by God towards man, our tradition uses the word nora, "awe," or "awesome." Where, however, man begins this conversation, the itaruta di-le'tata, there our tradition uses gadol, "great." Indeed, it is a minor, a child, who reacts, whereas a gadol, a major or full-grown and mature man, acts – without always waiting for the invitation from someone other than himself.