Drash: Rethinking T'shuvah in Chodesh Cheshvan

We're a couple of weeks into Cheshvan now, and I've been thinking about Mar Cheshvan, this month without any holidays. This month can be a big relief, or it can be kind of anti-climactic. Our year-cycle offers us build-up to the High Holidays, starting in Elul – or even starting with the three weeks leading up to Tisha b'Av. I tend to think of Yom Kippur, and specifically Ne'ilah, as being the climax of the High Holidays. After that, we have Sukkot, Shmini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah as a way to wind down and wrap up the holiday season. But then Cheshvan comes – and no holidays. So what happens to all the teshuvah we did during the High Holiday season? Does it just fade away? Do we drop back into our old habits?

I was wondering what kind of guidance our tradition has for how we should approach Cheshvan. So I started by looking in the Bible for mentions of Cheshvan. As far as I could find, it is mentioned only four times, under two names: “Hachodesh Hashmini” (the eight month), and Bul, which is an older Hebrew name for the month. It's mentioned in 1 Kings 6:38, as the month in which Solomon finished building the Temple; in 1 Kings 12:32-33, when King Jeroboam ordains a feast day for the Northern Kingdom that is kind of like a second Sukkot for the Northern Kingdom so that his subjects won't go down to Jerusalem for the regular Sukkot and get tempted to stay in the Southern Kingdom; in Zechariah 1:1, which says that prophecy came to Zechariah in the eighth month, and in 1 Chronicles 27:11, which tells the names of the commanders whose army division served King David in the eighth month.

Dvar Tefillah: Barchu

For some reason, I have never really thought about what the words of the Barchu mean. I tend to think much more about the role of the Barchu in the service, as a call to community and to the part of the service where having a minyan is more crucial. While there are many worthwhile questions to ask about the pros and cons of the traditional emphasis on praying with a minyan, I am currently really appreciating the idea of a community that is committed enough to mutual support that it will pull together a minyan for prayer, especially in cases where that has personal significance for a member (such as a shiva or kaddish minyan). I also appreciate halachic aspects of this -- it doesn't matter if we love or even like each other, we are committed to each other and to doing this with and for each other for reasons that go beyond individual chemistry (and therefore into a realm of some kind of unconditional, perhaps divine love).

Sooooo therefore, I am currently thinking about the text of the Barchu in this way:

Barchu et hashem hamevorach:
Let's bless God who is the focal point of our communal blessing

Baruch hashem hamevorah l'olam vaed:
It's awesome that we have God to be the focal point of our communal blessing, hopefully that'll keep being the case forever!

Drash: Haftarah of Parashat Bereishit

The Haftarah for Parashat Bereishit ends two verses before an interesting verse: Isaiah 43:12 (“I have declared, and I have saved, and I have announced, and there was no strange god among you; therefore ye are My witnesses, saith the LORD, and I am God”).

In Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai interprets Isaiah 43:12 in an unusual way. The end of the verse reads “And you are my witnesses, saith the Lord, and I am God.” Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai teaches: “If you are not my witnesses, then I am not God.”

This reminds me of one of the irritating habits of English-grammar sticklers, in response to the apparent misuse of a conditional clause. For example, Sam invites Jennifer to a party. “I'm leaving at 8PM if you want to come,” he offers. Jennifer, our hypothetical grammar-stickler, responds victoriously, “What time will you leave if I don't want to come?”