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A tale of two similar holidays
A famous Victorian story shines a new light on the Jewish New Year
By Moryt Milo
In the midst of celebrating the Jewish holidays, the oddest thought came to me: Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have a lot in common with Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
As soon as the thought ran through my head, the logical side of my brain began laughing, "Where in the world did that come from?" But the creative/curious side of my brain had me wandering over to the bookshelf to look up the correct spelling of Dickens' main character, Ebenezer Scrooge.
As we all know, Ebenezer had grown into a crotchety old man, who was greedy, selfish and uncaring. He was outrageously wealthy, but friendless and bitter. And, of course, on Christmas Eve he is visited by three ghosts (Past, Present and Future), who by morning have made him a changed man.
So why in the world would I think about A Christmas Carol during the observance of the most sacred holidays in the Jewish religion? Because, oddly enough, there is a unique synergy between this classic tale and the commencement of the Jewish New Year.
As I sat in synagogue on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, I was reminded by the prayers I chanted that the Book of Remembrance (also known as the Book of Life) is once again opened "and it speaks for itself, for every man has signed it with his deeds." In other words, we write our own history (ghost of the past).
As the service continues the prayers say, "Days are like scrolls. Write thereon only what you would like to have remembered about you"--which gave me the opportunity to reflect on my current self (ghost of the present).
Then, on Yom Kippur, we ask God to forgive us for our past and present shortcomings, and we express through prayer our desire to be better people in the coming year. We look deep inside and reflect upon our future, not wanting to leave this earth with mistakes uncorrected (ghost of the future). During Yom Kippur we continuously ask God to hear our prayers for forgiveness and to grant us a healthy and prosperous New Year.
As the holiday comes to a close, the Book of Life, which was opened on Rosh Hashanah, is once again sealed. It's our way of making amends with our Maker and ourselves. We are given another year and another chance to set things right--not unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, even though he only had a single night.
So there I was sitting in synagogue, reflecting back on my year. I thought about the times when I should have been kinder. I recalled times when I could have shown more patience; I admonished myself for not being more tolerant and giving. And bundling it all together, I asked for forgiveness. I watched as the Torah was ceremoniously carried down the aisle and we, the congregation, moved toward it. For me this is one of the most beautiful moments of the service, both mystical and magical.
I reach out with my prayer book and touch the regal white cloth and yellow fringe that covers the Torah. I bring the prayer book to my lips and a chill often runs through me, as I imagine my forefathers doing the same. It is a truly interactive part of the service. But it's the blowing of the shofar (the ram's horn) that always raises the hair on the nape of my neck, even though I have listened to its ritualistic sound for over 40 years. It's a sound unlike any other; a sound so sharp, it actually feels raw. But in this rawness is a purity that cuts straight to the soul. When the shofar's familiar pattern of short and long notes is over, I feel rejuvenated and attuned.
It was after I came home from Rosh Hashanah services and celebrated with my family by dipping apples in honey (part of the Jewish tradition to invite a fruitful, sweet New Year) that curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the spelling of Ebenezer in my name book. What I discovered was rather surprising.
The name Ebenezer comes from the Hebrew, meaning "foundation of stone." So what seemed to be a farfetched idea wasn't so off-the-wall after all. It didn't matter that Dickens had written a story about a character whose religious background was different from mine--or that he celebrated a different version of the New Year. We both had a foundation built on similar beliefs--on the importance of kindness and compassion, and secured with the comfort of faith. And, just like Ebenezer Scrooge, I'm sure we could all use a little heavenly guidance.
Moryt Milo is a freelance columnist who writes for Silicon Valley Community Newspapers.
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Sunnyvale, California Since 1994
