This evening, with the prayers for Slichos, forgiveness, we anticipate and prepare for the High Holy Days which are our Jewish New Year. The first day of the year, with us Jews as with no other people, is an occasion for Kedushah, or Sanctity. The reason for this sanctity is two-fold. For not only is the coming Rosh Hashanah the first Day of the year, and therefore the Day of Judgement, but it is also the first day of the first month of the year. And Rosh Chodesh, the new moon, was always preceded by the sanctification by the Jewish courts. So that on this Slichos night, in preparation for the first Rosh Chodesh of the New Year, it behooves us to speak of the institution of קידוש החודש, the sanctification of the New Moon, the holiness of the Jewish time-cycle, the preparation for sanctity. For all our festivals, all the ceremonies and sacrifices and devotions, depended and do now depend on the beginning of the month as determined by the Molad Ha’lvanah, or the first appearance of any part of the new moon. Many years ago, before the preparation of the calendar by astronomic calculation, which was able to foretell every Molad almost unto eternity, the Jewish court announced the new moon and declared the Rosh Chodesh “al pi ha’reiah,” by “sight.” That means that witnesses would testify in court that they had seen the appearance of the new moon with their own eyes. It was the era of intimate knowledge of G-d’s world, when people would be witnesses to the birth of a month, and Beis Din – the g-dfather of the new moon. Kid a-p reiah, sanctification as a result of sight, of first-hand, intimate observation.After the power of the courts was weakened, after exile struck at the roots of our people, after the beginnings of the advanced science of astronomy, a new method of KH was introduced – “Kid a-p cheshbon”; sanctification, not through observation, but by calculation. It was, as it is even today, a fool-proof method, intellectually conceived by using the tools of mathemat…

As we of Kodimoh welcome the month of Ellul on this very important Shabbat, I am inclined to recall how Jews of old once experienced the same event. The solemnity and sacredness that was ushered in with this penitential season, this forty-day period of Teshuvah, was more than just an idea or a principle. It was something which enveloped one’s whole existence. There was an indefinable warmth about it. There was the thrill of expectancy. There was a fear of the unknown. There was a clean feeling about it all that permeated even little Yeshiva boys who had not sinned enough to repent. It was a happy solemnity, a gay seriousness, almost a sort of adventure into the sacred days that were to follow. Perhaps all this can be summed up by calling it the “Ellul Mood.” For that is just what it was – a mood. It was an invaluable, cleansing, holy and thoroughly Jewish mood, and one which we should and must recapture this morning. We must get into the Ellul Mood. If we are to recreate this Mood and recapture some of its great spirit for ourselves, we must attempt to analyze it, to break it down into its components so that we can build it up again. What, then, are the components of the Ellul Mood? Let us analyze it down to three basic elements. First and foremost, the Ellul Mood consists of a determination to seek out G-d – not to just find Him by accident, as it were, but to look for Him conscientiously. Waldo Frank, in a recent issue of The Nation (June 19, 1954) voices the fear that America is becoming a “people that holds on,” whereas in the past we have been a “people that sought,” with writers of maturity who ennobled this search. It is that distinction which we become aware of, in a Jewish sense, at this time of the year. It is not enough to hold on. We must search for greater achievements. All year long we speak and preach and argue “Jewish survival.” We put our minds together figuring out ways and means of surviving as Jews. Some think a Sunday School will help Judaism s…

The summer is over, and we observe today the last Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah. As the last syllables of the dying year fade away, we shall begin, tonight, the Selihot – the appraisal of ourselves, our failures and our successes, and our petition for forgiveness as we look forward towards the new year. How do most of us respond naturally when we challenge ourselves to this self-appraisal, to evaluate the year we are now ushering out? What have been our attainments and our accomplishments? No doubt, the majority of us and those in our social class, in this economy of abundance, will be able to record an impressive number of achievements and feel a warm glow of satisfaction. Business, I am told, has been good, our reputations have been upheld or enhanced, we have made progress on almost all fronts. And yet – if that is our attitude, it is the wrong one with which to end the old year and begin the new. Listen to how the prophet Jeremiah sums up what ought to be our mood on this threshold of the changing years. Avar katzir kilah kayitz va’anahnu lo noshanu – “the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved” (Jeremiah 8:20). For the prophet, the dominant mood at summer’s end is not one of jubilation and satisfaction, but one of disappointment and frustration. He turns to his contemporaries, in the agricultural society of those times, and tells them: you may have had a good and bountiful harvest, you may be pleased with yourselves at the in-gathering of the summer’s fruit; but that is not what really counts. Va’anahnu lo noshanu – “we are not saved.”Those are hard words, words with a cutting edge, words that etch like acid on the flabby and complacent heart. Yet without these words and the attitude they summon up, we remain blind, out of contact with reality, caught up in the euphoria of a dream world. Our sacred tradition prefers that we end the old year and prepare for the new year with the heroic self-criticism of a Jeremiah – with a confession of frust…

The aliyat reggel, the pilgrimages prescribed by our Sidra for the three major festivals, were no pleasure trip for the pilgrims of ancient Judea. Their journey had to be undertaken in days when there were unavailable not only the first class hotels, but barely inns of any kind. The pilgrim had to sleep on the ground instead of his accustomed bed; scrounge for food; be deprived of all comfort and conveniences; whereas had he remained at home he could have lived his normal comfortable life. Nowhere in the Talmud do we find that any special arrangements were made to accommodate these pilgrims who came to perform this sublime commandment. Yet, interestingly, in next week’s portion we find the description of another kind of traveler in the Holy Land. We are told that if a man murdered by accident, unwittingly, that we were to prepare for him a number of cities designated as “cities of refuge,” to which the murderer could flee and thereby escape the vengeance of the relatives of his victim. The Torah tells us takhin lekha ha-derekh, you shall prepare the way of the murderer. And the Mishnah explains that mekhavnot la-hem derakhim mi-zu le’zu, the highway would be especially prepared throughout the country so that the man who murdered unwittingly would have no difficulty in making his way to the city of refuge. Throughout the country, at every crossroads, there were signs exclaiming “miklat, miklat,” i.e., “this way to the city of refuge.”Thus, while the pilgrim had no signposts prepared for him to facilitate his journey to Jerusalem, the murderer had every consideration prepared for him in order to make his way to the city of refuge as quickly and easily as possible. What discrimination! Here the pilgrim must wander from place to place, inquire at the door of every village or hamlet: “which way to Jerusalem?”, while the man who was a murderer would find his way with the greatest of ease. We must remember that whereas many of these accidental murders were complete accide…

In the portion of this week’s reading which describes the blessings that will come upon Israel, we read one verse that is outstanding by its magnificence: וראו כל עמי הארץ כי שם ה’ נקרא עליך ויראו ממך,  “And all the nations of the world will see that the name of the Lord is called upon you, and they will be afraid of you.” What does Moses mean when he says that “the name of the Lord will be called upon you?” The Talmud (Ber. 6a) quotes an answer by one of the greatest of all sages, Rabbi Eliezer Hagadol (the Great). In a pithy comment of but three words, he says: אלו תפילין שבראש, the “name of the Lord”' that is “called upon us” refers to the Tefillin that we wear upon the head. How remarkable! Is that all it takes to frighten away the anti-Semite bent upon a pogrom? Is the Tefillin worn upon the head really sufficient to neutralize the venom of the anti-Jewish enemy, his plentiful arms and allies?If we turn to the Talmudic passage from which this quotation is taken, and study it in context, we discover what I believe is the real meaning of the statement of Rabbi Eliezer the Great. Immediately after quoting his response, the Talmud asks: הָנֵי תְּפִילִּין דְּמָרֵי עָלְמָא מָה כְּתִיב בְּהוּ? אֲמַר לֵיהּ ״וּמִי כְּעַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל גּוֹי אֶחָד בָּאָרֶץ״. אָמַר לָהֶם הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְיִשְׂרָאֵל: אַתֶּם עֲשִׂיתוּנִי חֲטִיבָה אַחַת בָּעוֹלָם, וַאֲנִי אֶעֱשֶׂה אֶתְכֶם חֲטִיבָה אַחַת בָּעוֹלָם.The Agadah often speaks of the Tefillin that are worn not only by man, but by God. Now the Talmud asks: we know that in the Tefillin of man is written the profession of unity, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.” But what is written in the Tefillin that, so to speak, God himself wears? They answer that the Tefillin of God bear the message: “Who is like unto Thy people Israel, one nation upon the earth.” And the Rabbis explain: The Lord said to Israel, “You made of Me a unity in the world.” Our espousal of God’s oneness is reciprocated by God’s affirming our uniqueness in the world. Now, reading our original passage in context, we see that “the name of …

Psalm 27, which we read twice daily during this season, is full of military metaphors. The two sentences that are most famous are, אחת שאלתי… These two verses have always been regarded as a kind of pious digression. However, this does not seem likely to me. David was a holy man, not a man of mere superficial pieties. What David had in mind, I believe, was something somewhat different. He expresses all along his confidence and faith in God despite fear of what the enemy may bring upon him. These two verses, I suggest, are not so much a part of his faith, as an account of his woes! What he is saying is that despite his victories and triumphs, his successes and prosperities, what he really wants is something quite different: The one thing I really want, that which I desire, is – to dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life...If I had to date this psalm, then, in addition to the historical and biographical evidence, I would find psychological proof that this was written in David’s middle years.Most young men usually are unaware of anything but their careers. The blandishment of great success and fame and wealth, and the immediate challenge of the initial promotions that come in any career, overwhelm all else, and a young man usually fails to ponder about and consider the dimensions of life that transcend career and success but that which really gives it permanent and enduring meaning. Perhaps that is the way it should be. At any rate, the blandishments of temporal success banish any thought of eternity.Most old men too do not think about or act upon this urge of the eternal. They are caught up in quite a different lie: not by the illusion of forthcoming successes, but by the falsehood of past failures. They are convinced that they are beyond redemption, that they have spent their lives too much in achieving their present positions, they bear the scars of many battles for fame and success and wealth, scars of failures as well. They believe that a turn to re…

Our theme is: the relationship of teshuvah (repentance) and selihah (forgiveness, the request for forgiveness). Does not selihah follow automatically upon teshuvah? And if so, why is it that in the Amidah prayer, השבינו אבינו... בא״י הרוצה בתשובה and סלח לנו אבינו... חנון המרבה לסלוח? Moreover, if teshuvah is the cause and selihah the effect, why do we gather this evening for selihot prior to the ten days of teshuvah? I find the answer in two different Midrashim (both quoted by the author of the שלבי הלקט), relating each blessing to a different incident of sin and repentance in the life of the patriarchal family of Jacob.The Midrash relates that when Reuven sinned against his father Jacob by sleeping with Bilhah, it was ordained that he be punished by death, but afterwards he repented, whereupon the ministering angels proclaimed the blessing: “Blessed is God Who desires repentance.”When Judah sinned against Tamar, and pronounced the verdict, "Take her out and let her be burnt," and then Tamar showed him proof that she had not sinned, he immediately confessed and said, “She is right and I am wrong,” and he was forgiven for that sin. Whereupon, the ministering angels proclaimed the blessing: “Blessed is God Who graciously forgives greatly.”So the ministering angels teach us that the concepts of teshuvah and selihah are not identical, and they relate them to the two archetypical dramas of sin and repentance.What is the difference between these two stories? Let us analyze each and compare them.The sin of Reuven is described in the Torah as follows: “And Reuven lay with Bilhah the concubine of his father, and Israel heard about it.” The sin is not as simple as it sounds. All agree that it was not a crime of sexual passion. Some interpret Reuven's actions as an attempt to establish his rights of succession by seizing the concubine of the chieftain, Jacob or Israel. The Sages were, I believe, more correct: They accuse Reuven of “rearranging the bed of his father.” By this…

Rabbi Lamm speaks on a stirring verse recited daily during the month of Elul.