Shofar So Good

Dear Atoning Congregation:

This time of year, I am reminded of a few stray and somewhat strange phone calls I received from classmates while in high school. As I’ve mentioned before, Omaha Central High School included in its attendance district the Orthodox Jewish Synagogue, Beth Israel, now located further west. As a result, I attended with a significant number of Jewish classmates who, during Rosh Hashanah, the days of atonement, were commended by their rabbi to seek forgiveness from those they had wronged during the previous year. 

Rosh Hashanah is New Year’s Day according to the Jewish calendar, this being the first day of its seventh month. With the blowing of the ram’s horn, the shofar, the day commemorates among other things the moment God breathed life into clay-formed Adam. It was also the day Moses traversed down Mt. Sinai with the first draft of the ten commandments. Finding the Children of Israel praising a golden calf in pagan disregard for Moses and the God who had led them out of Egypt, Moses lost his cool and shattered the tablets before the people. He then returned up the mountain to see if God would be merciful enough to replace the broken laws—sometimes you get a replacement refund for something you smashed in the parking lot before you got to use it. As we know, Moses did return with a second copy of the law. The gift of that edition is commemorated on Yom Kippur ten days after Rosh Hashanah; an understanding of second chances is baked into the cycle of Jewish observance along with the eating of the challah.

While over the years I can remember dozens of calls seeking forgiveness for one insult or omission or another, for the life of me I cannot recall the specifics of any confessed transgression. Once, as Barry Epstein poured out a stammering apology to me on the phone, I remember thinking he was perhaps the kindest person I knew and there wasn’t anything I could imagine necessitating my absolution. But Barry was so sincere, I recall extending my forgiveness for whatever offense I was pretty sure had never happened. The Epstein family was profoundly observant and annually traipsed to the stream that ran through Elmwood Park not far from their home to perform the Tashlikh ceremony, where breadcrumbs are tossed into a running body of water, symbolically casting off their sins to begin life anew.

Rosh Hashanah concludes with Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, which includes fasting and more prayers. Shortly before sundown preceding Yom Kippur (the Jewish day begins at sunset), the Epsteins along with most of my Jewish friends stuffed themselves with kreplach, meat-filled dumplings made according to exacting recipes brought here by Eastern European grandmothers who ardently refused to write them down. The following morning, Central High School’s halls were significantly emptied, as all of my Jewish classmates, even the less observant ones, were at synagogue. The day commemorates God closing the book on the sins of the previous year; with a single slam, a new year begins on a clean page.

This evening, as the year 5785 gives way to 5786 (it should come as no surprise that the Jewish community does not begin counting with AD), the faithful will consider again the sins of commission and omission from the year just ended. And while good Christians believe in confession, we tend to be less direct. I remember my conversation with a Rabbi Berman here in Chicago who pointed out, “While it is a good thing to confess one’s sins to the Holy One (God), usually our offenses are against a fellow human being. The Holy One forgives, It is what He does, blessed be He; but no reign of peace is possible in this life until people confess to and forgive one another.”

Considering kreplach recipes and picking up the phone, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor