שׁוּב מַעֲשֶׂה בְּרַבִּי אֱלִיעֶזֶר שֶׁיָּרַד לִפְנֵי הַתֵּיבָה, וְאָמַר עֶשְׂרִים וְאַרְבַּע בְּרָכוֹת וְלֹא נַעֲנָה. יָרַד רַבִּי עֲקִיבָא אַחֲרָיו וְאָמַר: ״אָבִינוּ מַלְכֵּנוּ אֵין לָנוּ מֶלֶךְ אֶלָּא אָתָּה. אָבִינוּ מַלְכֵּנוּ, לְמַעַנְךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ״, וְיָרְדוּ גְּשָׁמִים. הֲווֹ מְרַנְּנִי רַבָּנַן, יָצְתָה בַּת קוֹל וְאָמְרָה: לֹא מִפְּנֵי שֶׁזֶּה גָּדוֹל מִזֶּה, אֶלָּא שֶׁזֶּה מַעֲבִיר עַל מִידּוֹתָיו, וְזֶה אֵינוֹ מַעֲבִיר עַל מִדּוֹתָיו.
It can be argued that regular masculine language for God promotes the distinct presumption that though all of us are created in God’s image, some of us are more Godlike than others. In Avinu Malkenu, by retaining the image of Father and King, one might infer that important decisions about life are made, or should be made, by fathers (but not mothers) and kings (not queens).
After all this discussion, it may come as a surprise to discover that it was decided [by the committee of Reform rabbis revising the Reform Mahzor] to retain masculine language for God anyway. Some people held that neutral language virtually does away with the concrete imagery that the Days of Awe demand. Calling God “Our Parent, our Sovereign” here, for example, seemed far more remote, far less compelling, than the traditional “Father” and “King.” Others noted that doing away with “He” and “Him” presented insurmountable problems in translation, which could not be overcome without completely altering the sense of ancient Hebrew passages whose integrity we respected. Would the committee charged with our liturgy vote that way today, if we had it to do again? I doubt it. One’s consciousness of language’s subtle effect on our thinking rises slowly. Nevertheless, it does rise. And today, I think, we would have voted the other way.
– from Lawrence A. Hoffman’s “Gates of Understanding 2: Appreciating the Days of Awe,” published by the Central Conference of American Rabbis.
Avinu Malkeynu khoneynu va’aneynu ki eyn banu ma’ashim asey imanu tz’dakah va’khesed v’hoshieynu.
Our Father, our King, teach us how to make this year a new beginning.
Our Mother, our Queen, teach us how to grow from the harshness of life.
Our Source and our Destiny, teach us how to accept what we must accept.
Our Guide and our Truth, teach us to change what must be changed.
Our Father, our King, teach us how to face disease and death.
Our Mother, our Queen, teach us how to enjoy the gifts of life.
Our Source and our Destiny, teach us how to make peace with our enemies.
Our Guide and our Truth, teach us how we can best help our people, IsraelLit. ''the one who struggles with God.'' Israel means many things. It is first used with reference to Jacob, whose name is changed to Israel (Genesis 32:29), the one who struggles with God. Jacob's children, the Jewish people, become B'nai Israel, the children of Israel. The name also refers to the land of Israel and the State of Israel..
Our Father, our King, teach us how we can best help all humanity.
Our Mother, our Queen, let us find pardon for our wrongdoings.
Our Source and our Destiny, let us return to You, wholly and completely.
Our Guide and our Truth, teach us how to help those who are ill.
Our Father, our King, let us write our names in the Book of Life.
Our Mother, our Queen, help us to find meaningful work.
Our Source and our Destiny, help us to find inner freedom.
Our Guide and our Truth, help us to learn how to love.
Our Father, our King, receive our prayers.
Our Mother, our Queen, teach us how to be good lovers.
Our Source and our Destiny, teach us how to be good parents.
Our Guide and our Truth, teach us how to be good children.
Our Father, our King, teach us how to be good friends.
Our Mother, our Queen, teach us how to be good Jews.
Our Source and our Destiny, teach us how to be good people.
Our Guide and our Truth, teach us how to be one with Your universe.
Avinu malkeinu (3) haneinu va’aneinu ki ein banu ma’asim
Aseh imanu tzedakah va’hesed (2) Ve’hoshi’einu
Avinu malkeinu (3), grant us justice and bring us salvation,
Grant us justice and loving kindness (2) and bring us salvation.
From the Yamim Noraim supplement of Congregation Mishkan Shalom, Philadelphia.
ritualwell
וּנְתַנֶּה תֹּקֶף קְדֻשַּׁת הַיּוֹם כִּי הוּא נוֹרָא וְאָיֹם וּבוֹ תִּנָּשֵׂא מַלְכוּתֶךָ וְיִכּוֹן בְּחֶסֶד כִּסְאֶךָ וְתֵשֵׁב עָלָיו בְּאֱמֶת
אֱמֶת כִּי אַתָּה הוּא דַּיָּן וּמוֹכִיחַ וְיוֹדֵעַ וָעֵד וְכוֹתֵב וְחוֹתֵם וְסוֹפֵר וּמוֹנֶה וְתִזְכֹּר כָּל הַנִּשְׁכָּחוֹת וְתִפְתַּח אֶת סֵפֶר הַזִּכְרוֹנוֹת וּמֵאֵלָיו יִקָּרֵא וְחוֹתָם יַד כָּל אָדָם בּוֹ
וּבְשׁוֹפָר גָּדוֹל יִתָּקַע וְקוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה יִשָׁמַע וּמַלְאָכִים יֵחָפֵזוּן וְחִיל וּרְעָדָה יֹאחֵזוּן וְיֹאמְרוּ הִנֵּה יוֹם הַדִּין לִפְקֹד עַל צְבָא מָרוֹם בַּדִּין כִּי לֹא יִזְכּוּ בְּעֵינֶיךָ בַּדִּין וְכָל בָּאֵי עוֹלָם יַעַבְרוּן לְפָנֶיךָ כִּבְנֵי מָרוֹן כְּבַקָּרַת רוֹעֶה עֶדְרוֹ מַעֲבִיר צֹאנוֹ תַּחַת שִׁבְטוֹ כֵּן תַּעֲבִיר וְתִסְפֹּר וְתִמְנֶה וְתִפְקֹד נֶפֶשׁ כָּל חָי וְתַחְתֹּךְ קִצְבָה לְכָל בְּרִיָּה וְתִכְתֹּב אֶת גְּזַר דִּינָם
בְּרֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה יִכָּתֵבוּן, וּבְיוֹם צוֹם כִּפּוּר יֵחָתֵמוּן.
כַּמָּה יַעַבְרוּן, וְכַמָּה יִבָּרֵאוּן,
מִי יִחְיֶה, וּמִי יָמוּת,
מִי בְקִצּוֹ, וּמִי לֹא בְּקִצּוֹ,
מִי בַמַּיִם, וּמִי בָאֵשׁ,
מִי בַחֶרֶב, וּמִי בַחַיָּה,
מִי בָרָעָב, וּמִי בַצָּמָא,
מִי בָרַעַשׁ, וּמִי בַמַּגֵּפָה,
מִי בַחֲנִיקָה, וּמִי בַסְּקִילָה,
מִי יָנוּחַ, וּמִי יָנוּעַ,
מִי יִשָּׁקֵט, וּמִי יְטֹּרֵף,
מִי יִשָּׁלֵו, וּמִי יִתְיַסָּר,
מִי יַעֲנִי, וּמִי יַעֲשִׁיר,
מִי יֻשְׁפַּל, וּמִי יָרוּם.
וּתְשׁוּבָה וּתְפִלָּה וּצְדָקָה מַעֲבִירִין אֶת רֹעַ הַגְּזֵרָה.
כִּי כְּשִׁמְךָ כֵּן תְּהִלָּתֶךָ, קָשֶׁה לִכְעוֹס וְנוֹחַ לִרְצוֹת, כִּי לֹא תַחְפֹּץ בְּמוֹת הַמֵּת, כִּי אִם בְּשׁוּבוֹ מִדַּרְכּוֹ וְחָיָה, וְעַד יוֹם מוֹתוֹ תְּחַכֶּה לוֹ, אִם יָשׁוּב מִיַּד תְּקַבְּלוֹ. (אֱמֶת) כִּי אַתָּה הוּא יוֹצְרָם וְיוֹדֵעַ יִצְרָם, כִּי הֵם בָּשָׂר וָדָם.
אָדָם יְסוֹדוֹ מֵעָפָר וְסוֹפוֹ לֶעָפָר. בְּנַפְשׁוֹ יָבִיא לַחְמוֹ. מָשׁוּל כְּחֶרֶס הַנִּשְׁבָּר, כְּחָצִיר יָבֵשׁ, וּכְצִיץ נוֹבֵל, כְּצֵל עוֹבֵר, וּכְעָנָן כָּלָה, וּכְרוּחַ נוֹשָׁבֶת, וּכְאָבָק פּוֹרֵחַ, וְכַחֲלוֹם יָעוּף. וְאַתָּה הוּא מֶלֶךְ אֵל חַי וְקַיָּם.
We lend power to the holiness of this day. For it is tremendous and awe filled, and on it your kingship will be exalted, your throne will be established in loving-kindness, and you will sit on that throne in truth.
It is true that you are the one who judges, and reproves, who knows all, and bears witness, who inscribes, and seals, who reckons and enumerates. You remember all that is forgotten. You open the book of records, and from it, all shall be read. In it lies each person's insignia.
And with a great shofar it is sounded, and a thin silent voice shall be heard. And the angels shall be alarmed, and dread and fear shall seize them as they proclaim: behold! the Day of Judgment on which the hosts of heaven shall be judged, for they too shall not be judged blameless by you, and all creatures shall parade before you as a herd of sheep. As a shepherd herds his flock, directing his sheep to pass under his staff, so do you shall pass, count, and record the souls of all living, and decree a limit to each persons days, and inscribe their final judgment.
On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed -
how many shall pass away and how many shall be born,
who shall live and who shall die,
who in good time, and who by an untimely death,
who by water and who by fire,
who by sword and who by wild beast,
who by famine and who by thirst,
who by earthquake and who by plague,
who by strangulation and who by lapidation,
who shall have rest and who wander,
who shall be at peace and who pursued,
who shall be serene and who tormented,
who shall become impoverished and who wealthy,
who shall be debased, and who exalted.
But repentance, prayer and righteousness avert the severity of the decree.
For your praise is just as your name. You are slow to anger and quick to be appeased. For you do not desire the death of the condemned, rather, that they turn from their path and live and you wait for them until the day of their death, and if they repent, you receive them immediately. (It is true -) [For] you are their Creator and You understand their inclination, for they are but flesh and blood.
We come from dust, and return to dust. We labour by our lives for bread, we are like broken shards, like dry grass, and like a withered flower; like a passing shadow and a vanishing cloud, like a breeze that passes, like dust that scatters, like a fleeting dream. But You are the king who lives eternal.
The liturgy is obviously derived from the talmudic story about the three books. Both claim that righteous deeds, prayer, and turning (changing one's behavior in the first case, and teshuvah in the second) will modify the Divine Decree that has been issued on Rosh Hashanah, but the operative verbs are strikingly different. The Talmud claims that these activities will actually cause the decree to be torn up (mekar'in). That which was decreed to happen will not in fact happen. The liturgy, however, makes a very different claim, namely that prayer, righteousness, and Teshuvah will not change what happens to us; rather, they will change us. We will understand what happens differently. These activities will not tear up the decree; rather, they will transform (ma'avirin) the evil of the decree. Spiritual practice won't change what happens. Rather, it will help us to experience what happens not as evil, but simply as what happens. Spiritual practice will help us to understand that everything that happens, even the decree of death, flows from God.
Un'taneh Tokefis not about bribing God with our repentance, nor is it about magic. It is about facing mortality and seeking the redemptive power of God's presence through lives of spiritual seriousness and moral goodness. We are capable of submitting our lives to judgment, but judgment should not be understood as an alien and arbitrary force; rather, it is the process of personal insight and inner renewal that initiates redemption of ourselves and of our world. There is reciprocity here. God calls on us, and we call on God. Our partnership puts a human face on the divine as we proclaim the awe-filled holiness of this moment.
... who will live and who will die;
who will reach the ripeness of age, who will be taken before their time ...
who will rest and who will wander,
who will be tranquil and who will be troubled.
I sat in shul for years reading these words before I realized the answer. The answer to each of these questions is "me." Who will live and who will die? I will. Who at their end and who not at their end? Me. Like every human being, when I die it will be at the right time, and it will also be too soon. Fire, water, earthquake, plague? In my lifetime, I've been scorched and drowned, shaken and burdened, wandering and at rest, tranquil and troubled. That has been my life's journey.
Of course, I prefer to deflect this truth. I would much prefer to let the praters talk about someone else, perhaps the fellow in the next tow. It has taken a lifetime to reveal that defense as a lie. The prayer is not about someone else. It's about me. It is a frightfully succinct summary of my existence. So now I read it again, but in the first person, and it makes me shiver.
I will live and I will die, at the right time, and before my time.
I will wander but I might yet find rest.
I will be troubled but I may achieve tranquility.
This is the central truth of the High Holy Days. This is what makes them Yamim Nora'im, days of terror. We are vulnerable.
Unetaneh tokef, the prayer that imagines God inscribing in the heavenly book who shall live and who shall die in the year to come, has become for many a riveting and troubling image of the High Holy Days. As I say its words I remember a friends’ baby that did not make it, health scares and disagnoses, lifes lost far too soon.
In a sense, Unetaneh tokef invites the whole community into the truth which sick and grieving people live every day. Rosh Hashanah assaults the denial of the healthy, so that on this day, the ill—beset with clear awareness of mortality—are at one with the whole community, all of us knowing the fundamental uncertainty of life. We are made of dust, as the Unetaneh tokef concludes, and to dust we return; like clay vessels we can break. Life flowers, we fade and like shadows we pass and like a dream we will someday pass from sight. This is the truth, and there can be comfort in standing in the sacred circle of community affirming it, at the same time committing to savor the fragile gift of life we are given.
And who by fire, who by water
Who in the sunshine, who in the night time
Who by high ordeal, who by common trial
Who in your merry merry month of may
Who by very slow decay
And who shall I say is calling?
And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate
Who in these realms of love, who by something blunt
Who by avalanche, who by powder
Who for his greed, who for his hunger
And who shall I say is calling?
And who by brave assent, who by accident
Who in solitude, who in this mirror
Who by his lady's command, who by his own hand
Who in mortal chains, who in power
And who shall I say is calling?
"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
הַעִידֹ֨תִי בָכֶ֣ם הַיּוֹם֮ אֶת־הַשָּׁמַ֣יִם וְאֶת־הָאָרֶץ֒ הַחַיִּ֤ים וְהַמָּ֙וֶת֙ נָתַ֣תִּי לְפָנֶ֔יךָ הַבְּרָכָ֖ה וְהַקְּלָלָ֑ה וּבָֽחַרְתָּ֙ בַּֽחַיִּ֔ים לְמַ֥עַן תִּחְיֶ֖ה אַתָּ֥ה וְזַרְעֶֽךָ׃ לְאַֽהֲבָה֙ אֶת־יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ לִשְׁמֹ֥עַ בְּקֹל֖וֹ וּלְדָבְקָה־ב֑וֹ כִּ֣י ה֤וּא חַיֶּ֙יךָ֙ וְאֹ֣רֶךְ יָמֶ֔יךָ לָשֶׁ֣בֶת עַל־הָאֲדָמָ֗ה אֲשֶׁר֩ נִשְׁבַּ֨ע יְהוָ֧ה לַאֲבֹתֶ֛יךָ לְאַבְרָהָ֛ם לְיִצְחָ֥ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֖ב לָתֵ֥ת לָהֶֽם׃ (פ)