Shabbat Ki Tavo: Change Is The Only Certainty

וּנְתַנֶּה תֹּקֶף קְדֻשַּׁת הַיּוֹם כִּי הוּא נוֹרָא וְאָיֹם וּבוֹ תִּנָּשֵׂא מַלְכוּתֶךָ וְיִכּוֹן בְּחֶסֶד כִּסְאֶךָ וְתֵשֵׁב עָלָיו בְּאֱמֶת  

We recognize the power of the holiness of this day; it is terrifying and awesome, and on it we see that we are overwhelmed, we are caught by truth, and we are desperately in need of compassion. (Unetaneh Tokef prayer from the High Holy Days Musaf Amidah)

The discourse around the difficulty of change often evokes the idea that the unknown is the most terrifying of human challenges. Change is avoided because uncertainty is uncomfortable; change is difficult to effect because we seek safety, which is not found in the unknown future but in the “devil you know”, i.e. the well-known present, even if unpleasant.

But the only constant our lives know is change. It happens every day, in the constant processes of our reality: growth and in decay, development and destruction, birth and in death. Despite that which longs for stasis, there is an inevitable movement in our lives.

Survival has always required the ability to adapt successfully. For our ancestors at the cusp of the land of promise, the home they’ve longed for, adaptation – change – is now required. Is it any wonder that the entire book of Deuteronomy sees them located in one place, the steppes of Moab, clearly trying to get up the sufficient collective courage to take the necessary step into the unknown?

Change is hard. Yet on Rosh HaShanah and all through the fall hagim, we focus upon the possibility of change. Change is key in our human journey toward wholeness. The message that change is not only possible, but is that which redeems us, is repeated over and over throughout the holy days, as Rabbi Yitzhak asserts: 

וְאָמַר רַבִּי יִצְחָק: אַרְבָּעָה דְּבָרִים מְקָרְעִין גְּזַר דִּינוֹ שֶׁל אָדָם, אֵלּוּ הֵן: צְדָקָה, צְעָקָה, שִׁינּוּי הַשֵּׁם, וְשִׁינּוּי מַעֲשֶׂה. צְדָקָה, דִּכְתִיב: ״וּצְדָקָה תַּצִּיל מִמָּוֶת״. צְעָקָה, דִּכְתִיב: ״וַיִּצְעֲקוּ אֶל ה׳ בַּצַּר לָהֶם וּמִמְּצוּקוֹתֵיהֶם יוֹצִיאֵם״. שִׁינּוּי הַשֵּׁם, דִּכְתִיב: ״שָׂרַי אִשְׁתְּךָ לֹא תִקְרָא אֶת שְׁמָהּ שָׂרָי כִּי שָׂרָה שְׁמָהּ״, וּכְתִיב: ״וּבֵרַכְתִּי אוֹתָהּ וְגַם נָתַתִּי מִמֶּנָּה לְךָ בֵּן״. שִׁינּוּי מַעֲשֶׂה, דִּכְתִיב: ״וַיַּרְא הָאֱלֹהִים אֶת מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם״, וּכְתִיב: ״וַיִּנָּחֶם הָאֱלֹהִים עַל הָרָעָה אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר לַעֲשׂוֹת לָהֶם וְלֹא עָשָׂה״. 

Rabbi Yitzḥak said: A person’s sentence is torn up on account of four types of actions. These are: Giving tzedakah, crying out in prayer, a change of one’s name, and a change of one’s deeds for the better. An allusion may be found in Scripture for all of them: Giving charity, as it is written: “And tzedakah delivers from death” (Proverbs 10:2); crying out in prayer, as it is written: “Then they cry to HaShem in their trouble, and HaShem brings them out of their distresses” (Psalms 107:28); a change of one’s name, as it is written: “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be” (Genesis 17:15), and it is written there: “And I will bless her, and I will also give you a child from her” (Genesis 17:16); a change of one’s deeds for the better, as it is written: “And God saw their deeds” (Jonah 3:10), and it is written there: “And God repented of the evil, which HaShem had said would happen to them, and did not do it” (Jonah 3:10). (BT Rosh HaShanah 16b)

From this ancient belief we derive not only the modern Israeli saying משנה מקום משנה מזל m’shaneh makom m’shaneh mazal, “change your place, change your luck” but also the widespread superstition that if someone is in danger of dying, one way to help them is to change their Hebrew name, so that the Angel of Death cannot find them. (I do this readily when the occasion arises.)

Interestingly, in our Unetaneh Tokef prayer, a name change is the one act that is not included, perhaps because it is the most easily abused of the paths of change – if you can change your name to cheat death, it’s too easy a temptation to cheat one’s creditors similarly.

That leaves us with צדקה Tzedakah, תפילה Tefilah, and תשובה Teshuvah as the keys to the kind of change that allows for successful adaptation throughout our lives. As we near the date of Rosh Hashanah, with Yom Kippur looming close beyond, it can all seem like too much. 

I believe that Rabbi Yitzhak is trying to offer us encouragement. If teshuvah seems too hard to get a handle on, would it be possible to effect personal change for the better by praying more, or more intently, with more emotional investment in “crying out”? Perhaps: if we understand prayer to be a regular exercise in self-reflection, in line with the actual meaning of the Hebrew word, “to judge oneself.” And might it be possible to effect personal change for the better by focusing more on meaningful tzedakah? To believe in one’s power to do justice through giving of oneself, in many small ways that we might dismiss as “not enough” when we are too focused on trying to save the world somehow.

One way to learn from the recurrence of High Holy Days every year is to see that while the days contain the same message every year, we are – inevitably – different, so there is a real chance that meaningful change has occurred, or is possible. One way to look at ourselves during this time is over time, rather than as a static reality; when you look back over the past year, or over five or ten, could you ever imagine where you would find yourself? 

One way to engage in change is to embrace its inevitability and believe in your – in our – shared capacity not only to meet the moment, but to thrive. Not to conquer the moment and move on, but to adapt to the idea of constancy, rather than a moment of triumph, as the best kind of change. As this High Holy Days of 5785 comes close, with all the overwhelm that life brings us every day, may we not only recognize our need for compassion from each other and ourselves in the face of truth, but also be able to see our ability to find joy in it.

That’s the sacred power of this day; may we recognize it.