let us speak of the awesomeness
of all the majestic moments in the days to come, the days of awe to come, for this is the cusp of the jewish new year –– the hours when we drop to our knees (figuratively, for there’s not a lot of kneeling in the synagogue) in thanks for all creation, for the newbornness of the world, this world we are entrusted to keep, meaning not to possess but to preserve, to tend, to watch over as a shepherd over his lambs –– one of the moments that will stop time for me is when the chanting of the unetanneh tokef (“let us speak of the awesomeness”) begins.
its words are as stirring as they come, deep down to the marrow. and they will stir me so deeply this year.
Unetanneh Tokef (ונתנה תקף) (“Let us speak of the awesomeness”) is a piyyut, or Jewish liturgical poem, woven into the hours of prayer of Rosh Hashanah, the new year, and Yom Kippur, the day of atonement to follow. it is chanted just before the Kedushah, the prayer in which the angels sing of the holiness of God, and when the ark that holds the Torah, or sacred scroll, is opened.
leonard cohen sung from it. in his glorious, goosebumping “who by fire?”**
it’s a prayer poem in which we stare into the face of our ending, our death, and examine closely the sharp edges of that terrain we so often run from. while it hurls us into attention, a mortal attention that is the base of plenty of theologies (those teachings believe we heighten our game when we’re aware it will end), it doesn’t look only at the last steps, but, too, at the ones we might take as we march there. it’s in the unflinchingness of judaism –– the bracing, no-beating-around-the-bush, straight-on-ness of it –– that so often grabs me by the scruff of the neck and keeps me transfixed.
and certainly here, and in the hours and days ahead, when we will take public inventory of our sins, when we will stand before a body of water and along with those who stand beside us cast our sins (in the form of bread chunks) into the currents or tide. and when, in the silence of our own pews, we will once again ask these mortal questions. it is the second section of the four-part prayer-poem, the litany of not only death but life, that stirs me most profoundly.
here are its words (with emphasis on the lines that emphasize living, not dying):
“On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealed – how many will pass from the earth and how many will be created; who will live and who will die; who will die after a long life and who before his time; who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by upheaval and who by plague, who by strangling and who by stoning. Who will rest and who will wander, who will live in harmony and who will be harried, who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer, who will be impoverished and who will be enriched, who will be degraded and who will be exalted. But Repentance, Prayer, and Charity mitigate the severity of the Decree.”
one of the prevailing pounding questions of this long hard summer has been my considerable wondering about what lies ahead for me, how many years to love on this world that i love so lavishly. it’s left me breathless, a true foggy night of the soul. and yet, as fall emerges, and the new year begins, so it’s time for me to turn (another command of the days of awe, teshuva, to turn in forgiveness, to repair what we’ve broken) to face the light of the days i won’t –– and can’t –– count.
it’s a soul-scouring exercise, one that was flung upon me the moment i heard “it’s cancer,” and i’ve taken it to heart. spent more hours than anyone knows contemplating how i will live what remains of my portion. if i emerge living more alive than ever before, if i emerge wildly embracing each and every dawn and the day that follows, if i love as i would be loved, if i take to heart every last prompt to be gentle, to be kind, to forgive as i would be forgiven, then my prayers this year, my Unetennah Tokef, will be answered.
this is a question to be answered in your own silence: how will you live the next holy days of your one blessed life?
the whole text, for anyone keen to read, broken into four thematic sections:
fear and trembling:
“Let us now relate the power of this day’s holiness, for it is mighty and frightening. On it Your Kingship will be exalted; Your throne will be firmed with kindness and You will sit upon it in truth. It is true that You alone are the One Who judges, proves, knows, and bears witness; Who writes and seals, Who counts and Who calculates. You will remember all that was forgotten. You will open the Book of Remembrances — it will read itself – and each person’s signature is there. And the great shofar will be sounded and a still, thin voice will be heard. Angels will be frenzied, a trembling and terror will seize them — and they will say, ‘Behold, it is the Day of Judgment, to muster the heavenly host for judgment!’ — for even they are not guiltless in Your eyes in judgment.”
God judges us:
“All mankind will pass before You like a flock of sheep. Like a shepherd pasturing his flock, making sheep pass under his staff, so shall You cause to pass, count, calculate, and consider the soul of all the living; and You shall apportion the destinies of all Your creatures and inscribe their verdict.
“On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealed – how many will pass from the earth and how many will be created; who will live and who will die; who will die after a long life and who before his time; who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by upheaval and who by plague, who by strangling and who by stoning. Who will rest and who will wander, who will live in harmony and who will be harried, who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer, who will be impoverished and who will be enriched, who will be degraded and who will be exalted. But Repentance, Prayer, and Charity mitigate the severity of the Decree.”
we are helpless:
“For Your Name signifies Your praise: hard to anger and easy to appease, for You do not wish the death of one deserving death, but that he repent from his way and live. Until the day of his death You await him; if he repents You will accept him immediately. It is true that You are their Creator and You know their inclination, for they are flesh and blood. A man’s origin is from dust and his destiny is back to dust, at risk of his life he earns his bread; he is likened to a broken shard, withering grass, a fading flower, a passing shade, a dissipating cloud, a blowing wind, flying dust, and a fleeting dream.”
God is enduring:
“But You are the King, the Living and Enduring God.
There is no set span to Your years and there is no end to the length of Your days. It is impossible to estimate the angelic chariots of Your glory and it is forbidden to pronounce Your Name. Your Name is worthy of You and You are worthy of Your Name, and You have included Your Name in our name.”
bless you all, profoundly.
**i tried to post a video, a glorious recording of leonard cohen singing “why by fire?” but the video seemed to be getting in the way of publishing this post, so if you’d love a musical blessing, try googling “who by fire?” by leonard cohen. it’s worth a listen. xoxox