In this week’s parashah, the scene is set at the beginning:
אַתֶּ֨ם נִצָּבִ֤ים הַיּוֹם֙ כֻּלְּכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֖י ה’ אֱלֹ-יכֶ֑ם רָאשֵׁיכֶ֣ם שִׁבְטֵיכֶ֗ם זִקְנֵיכֶם֙ וְשֹׁ֣טְרֵיכֶ֔ם כֹּ֖ל אִ֥ישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל
You stand this day, all of you, before your G!d ‘ה —your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials, every person in Israel (Deut. 29.9)
The narrative which follows indicates that a covenant is being made on that very day, and not only with those who were present:
כִּי֩ אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֨ר יֶשְׁנ֜וֹ פֹּ֗ה עִמָּ֙נוּ֙ עֹמֵ֣ד הַיּ֔וֹם לִפְנֵ֖י ה’ אֱלֹ-ינוּ וְאֵ֨ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֵינֶ֛נּוּ פֹּ֖ה עִמָּ֥נוּ הַיּֽוֹם
both with those who are standing here with us this day before our G!d ‘ה and with those who are not with us here this day. (Deut. 29.14)
That’s how it has always been for us; we were all there, in some way. An old Jewish tradition cheerfully speculates that if you feel you know someone you’ve never met, perhaps you were standing near them at Sinai.
The people are not actually at Sinai in this parashah, but standing on the edge of the land they had traveled forty years to see. Depending on which scholar you ask, this is the second or maybe third “covenant moment” described by the Torah. But for those of us who feel we are inheritors of this story, it doesn’t matter. We may have been in the south Sinai wilderness or we may have been at the steppes of Moab, it’s not about the geography of the land – but rather of the heart.
This is the seventh and final Shabbat of the Seven Weeks of Consolation that bring us from the depths of sadness and despair which characterize Tisha B’Av, all the way (up?) to the New Year. As we will recite in the liturgy, “may the old year and its curses end, may the new year and its blessings begin!”
Are you consoled yet? Maybe not, if consolation requires healing or signs of a great victory over the evil of our days in the offing. Yet our tradition insists that we celebrate Rosh HaShanah together and seek joy – and believe in its reality – in the New Year.
Our parashah reminds us of the grounding for that joy: we are all standing here together, or, as we repeat whenever we celebrate a brit mitzvah, כל ישראל ערבים זה לזה “we are all guarantors for each other.” This doesn’t mean that we are one in opinion (has v’halilah, G!d forbid), but rather that we all have our place.
What is this holy geography? Certainly, it’s somewhat rocky and full of surprises, with a challenging terrain of questions and problems. Just as our ancestors experienced at this time, the geography of our hearts is uncertain and our way forward is unclear.
But we are not alone and naked of meaning. We are blessed with belonging to a rich, complicated, and spiritually endless story, of which we are an integral part. We, too, after all, stood at Sinai. We, too, inherit and carry on.
There is a kind of joy in having a place, in not being alone in a meaningless void. It doesn’t make the problems of life all better, but it is a support that can help us maintain our sense of self and purpose when the days we face are too bitter with fear to meet alone.
According to another very old Jewish teaching, HaShem tells us what day to celebrate – in this case, the first day of Tishri – and it is up to us to declare which day that is. In other words, it’s not a holy day unless we observe it as one – unless we make it real. On the last Shabbat before the Jewish year 5786 begins, may we find a way to continue: with each other, encouraging each other, believing in our shared path. By believing in it, we will make it real.
I believe in the sun, though it be dark;
I believe in God, though God be silent;
I believe in compassion, though it be unable to reveal itself.*
May the New Year be one of blessing and of sweetness in unexpected places.
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 