Saturday, October 8, 2011

What Jews believe

Jews believe that God created the world on Rosh Hashana (literally 'head of the year') 5,772 years ago, and that on Rosh Hashana God reviews your life for the past year and pencils you in the book of life, giving you ten days to repent, give to charity, and otherwise convince God that you are worthy before he seals the book on Yom Kippur (literally, 'day of atonement').  On Yom Kippur, Jews fast for 25 hours, from sunset to sunset (plus a little extra just in case), and spend most of that time in church, praying.  Jews are not allowed to eat, drink, work, wash, have sex, smoke, or wear leather shoes.

The Bible said: "On the first day of the seventh month you are to have a day of sabbath rest, a sacred assembly commemorated with trumpet blasts. Do no regular work, but present a food offering to the LORD.... The tenth day of this seventh month is the Day of Atonement. Hold a sacred assembly and deny yourselves, and present a food offering to the LORD." (Leviticus 23)

So, how did we get from two days of rest to 10 days of atonement?  That's the beauty of religion.

First, how did the "first day of the seventh month" get to be the "head of the year"?  Well, in Judaism, there are four new years -- one for kings, one for animals, one for vegetables, and one for trees.  Not suprisingingly, the new year for animals is in the spring, vegetables in the summer, and trees in the autumn.  The one for kings is actually the first day of the first month of the Jewish calendar, but somehow the vegetable new year became the day they changed the year.  It would be like us celebrating New Year's day on April 1 -- how crazy would that be? 

Oh wait, that's exactly what we did until 1582, when the calendar was changed and the new year was moved to January 1.  Never mind.

Second, how was it decided that world was created on Rosh Hashanah?  Well, if you actually believe our planet is less than 6,000 years old, you have other issues, so I'm going to skip this one.

Third, when did Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur become linked?  Leviticus didn't say anything about "high holydays" or "days of awe." It didn't say anything about a book of life, or about giving to charity, or apologising to people you've wronged -- it just said on Rosh Hashana you should blow a horn, and on Yom Kippur you should deny yourself and atone.  Leviticus doesn't link these two holidays; in fact, they are part of a list of six holidays, one of which comes five days after Yom Kippur, but it's not linked at all!  Somehow, these ten days not only became linked, but somehow became the most important in the Jewish calendar.  There's no rhyme or reason.

Fourth, how does "deny yourself" become translated as "don't eat, drink, work, wash, have sex, smoke, or wear leather shoes"?  Not eating or drinking are self-evident.  Not having sex makes sense, but the real reason is that elsewhere in the Bible it says coming in contact with semen makes you ritually unclean.  (In fact, I was told that before the destruction of the Temple, the High Priest was kept awake the night before Yom Kippur lest he have a wet dream, and thus be unable to perform his duties the next day.)

But really, wear leather shoes?  The best explanation I've heard is that back then the only types of shoes were leather, and so going without them (i.e. barefoot) was a hardship.  However, to get around this proscription today, people wear trainers, which are even more comfortable!  Go figure.

And smoking wasn't prohibited because it was a pleasure you should deny yourself, but because the cigarette butt has to pass your lips, so it's almost like eating.  You know I'm not making this stuff up.

And finally, the rules around working are absolutely hilarious.  Keep in mind, we're talking 2,500+ years ago in an agrarian society; there were no weekends or holidays for the workers. The Jewish calendar was a revelation!  And you'd think common sense would dictate that "do no regular work" would mean just that -- no work in your regular occupation.  However, the Rabbis couldn't content themselves with something so simple, so they defined 39 prohibited activities:

Ploughing earth, sowing, reaping, binding sheaves, threshing, winnowing (separating chaff from grain), selecting (separating debris from grain), grinding, sifting, kneading, baking, shearing wool, washing wool, beating wool, dyeing wool, spinning, weaving, making two loops, weaving two threads, separating two threads, tying, untying, sewing stitches, tearing, trapping, slaughtering, flaying, tanning, scraping hide, marking hides, cutting hide to shape, writing two or more letters, erasing two or more letters, building, demolishing, extinguishing a fire, kindling a fire, putting the finishing touch on an object and transporting an object between the private domain and the public domain, or for a distance of 4 cubits (about 6 feet) within the public domain.

Today, observant Jews won't drive on Saturday (or any holiday) because the petrol engine is "kindling a fire."  (And they won't drive an electric vehicle because creating a spark is also considered kinding a fire.)  They also won't flip a switch for the same reason -- so if a light is on, it stays on the entire time.

Finally, what happened to the food offerings to the LORD?  Well, the LORD only presided in the Temple, which the Romans destroyed in 70 CE.  No Temple, no LORD, no food offerings.  More for us.

OK, so that's what the Jews believe.  What *I* believe is that the link between fasting and spirituality (or maybe just hallucinating) is well established, and denying yourself one day of the year -- to really make you appreciate your place in the world -- is a wonderful tradition.  I believe that coming to synagogue to pray for forgiveness *as a community* (not an individual) also reinforces your place in that community, and reminds you that you are your brother's keeper.  I believe that giving you ten days to "make good" really forces you to consider the past year; it's not going to church on Easter and getting it over with.  I believe that breaking the fast with friends and family, all of whom have been denying themselves as well, is what really makes it holy.

So tomorrow I will be hungry, tired, and sitting in a gym all day.  (Most Jews only attend synagogue on these two days of the year, so they have to be moved to a larger venue.  Last year it was under a tent; this year it is in a gym.)  I will be practicing my Hebrew and haltingly singing the few songs I know. I will be alone amongst about 500 people, with no friends or family, but I will feel a certain kinship with every one of them, because they are there for the same reasons I am.  Not because they believe God commanded them to, or because they are worried about being written in the book of life, and certainly not because they enjoy being hungry and hanging out with people who haven't bathed, but because they instinctively feel the need to come together, to reflect and consider, to deny themselves for one day, and to do so as a community.

My community.

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