My Job

So much is impossible to absorb — hostages, mass murder, body-burning — I shall not mention more details. We all know them. Perhaps of particular anguish is the perversely brilliant tactic of the evil ones in tying us up in knots, coercing us to agonize over whether to agree to a cease-fire to free hostages — and leave Hamas in power — or whether to shun a cease-fire and risk sacrificing the hostages. Not to mention the outbreak of unabashed Jew hatred in our land and around the world.

Given the spiritual and political condition of the Jewish People, that is, of each one of us, what is the appropriate approach to Rosh Hashanah this year?

I never remember concentrating on that question; I only remember focusing on my own “job” — my faults, hopes, resolutions, and methods for teshuvah. This year I cannot escape framing my personal obligations separate from the larger Jewish community’s worldwide. I hear everyone around me similarly perplexed as the Ten Days of Repentance are upon us.

A story.

The Talmud says that one does not really understand one’s rebbi, one’s primary Torah teacher, until 40 years after he dies. Now, not everyone has a primary Torah teacher, and of those who do, few outlive him by 40 years. I both had a rebbi and have outlived him by 40 years (and more).