UNETANNEH TOKEF. on Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur We
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UNETANNEH TOKEF. On Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur we read, or sing, a poem of great power. The “Unetanneh Tokef” has some traditional melodies associated with it, and forms a lengthy Piyut with sections sung as a form of refrain or counter-point. There are various traditions about this piece and its origins. Some relate to Rabbi Amnon of Mayence who related it in a dream after he had been martyred, tortured to death shortly before Rosh Hashanah for refusing to convert to Christianity. This legend is picturesque, painful, but nothing more than that - a legend. So much of the liturgy we use is anonymous, its origins lost in history. Occasionally a piece has a known author, occasionally an author has put at least his first name into some form of clever acrostic pattern, but this is the exception, not the rule; On the whole, we pray the words of anonymous poets, compiled - and, for all we know, revised - over many centuries. And these words have their power not because the author is famous, but because the author managed to write what we often feel. Even if the language or the style has become antiquated, the message can retain its power. So I do not wish to give here a history lesson, but instead look at the text. It can be found on both these days at the beginning of the Mussaf service, incorporated somehow into the “Keduscha” of the Amidah. (Seder Hatefillot, Band II, pp. 246-249, 478-491.) The word “Tokef” means something overpowering. It is used as such only three times in the Tanach - once in Daniel 11:17, referring to “the power of the whole kingdom”, and then in Esther 9:29 and 10:2, again with reference to a king’s rule and power. So this Piyut is not, in the normal sense, a Prayer. It is an Acknowledgement. An acknowledgement of the power of God, and the power of “this day” - referring, of course, to a different day each time we recite it. What is this power? God is referred to in regal, monarchic terms. Those who make such a fuss about the masculine imagery with which God is often described in our liturgy often forget one major element - which is the message behind the image. In our prayer books we refer to God in a variety of ways, but all of them ways implying that God has Power. At the time these prayers were written - it was, with only rare exceptions, the Men who had this temporal power; At its ultimate, it was the power to kill or to choose not to kill. That applied to a Father if you were a child, a Master if you were a slave, a King if you were a subject. Adding a Matriarch to a Patriarch or fussing about whether the anthropomorphic term “He” is appropriate to a transcendent divinity is missing this point. To the worshipper, the one who is being worshipped has power - otherwise, let us be honest, there is little point in worshipping, in pleading, in begging, in thanking. And when the Prayer Books refer to God as King, they do not mean some constitutional monarch who is allowed to open Parliament once a year and launch the occasional ship, but to an Absolute Dictator who has the power - and the legal right - to punish you for what you have said or done. And the only hope for a merciful hearing or a merciful decision is to beg for one. Not, in many respects, a very “modern” theological approach, and of course it is not the only one we use in Judaism - but on these Days of Awe, these Yamim Noraim, an appropriate one. So this Piyut, this Power, uses the image of God as a King, but also as a sort of divine Auditor, who checks over our annual accounts and decides whether, in terms of profit or loss, it has been a good year, and whether we have established good foundations for the coming year. Also an uncomfortable thought. Just take a look at the German translation: “An diesem Tag werden wir von deiner Herrschaft bewegt und überwaltigt.....” The great horn will blow - and in the echoing, reverberating silence left after its blowing, a smaller, softer voice is also heard. What is this noise? It is the angels themselves lapsing into panic, for on this day EVERYTHING in the Universe is to be judged. This is, for mere humans, a form of comfort. We are not the only ones! Now God is defined as the Shepherd who is about to undertake a form of Quality Control and check each and every one of the creatures under “his” supervision. The Shepherd, of course, not only cares for all the beasts and protects them from harm, but also picks out those suitable for slaughter. Do not forget that all of these images and symbols have at least two sides! And then comes this impressive two-line strophe: “B’Rosh Hashanah yikateyvun, Uv’yom Tzom Kippur yechateymun...” Our fate is decided in two stages; an initial decision is tentatively made at the New Year, but it is only ten days later that it is confirmed and sealed. In this way the poet describes God as a Judge who takes time to consider, to assess the facts and evidence, who does not react randomly and without giving time for mitigating circumstances to be brought into Court. Yom Kippur, if you like, is the chance for an Appeal against the decision made at Rosh Hashanah. And what has been decided? The Ultimate Question. Who will live and who will die. And, whichever way this might be - who will live in this way and who will live in that way, who will die in this way and who will die in that way. Frightening prospects. As we all know, we will eventually have to die - and we know that there are so many ways to die, some of them dignified and peaceful and painless, many of them quite the reverse. Most of us get through the normal day by NOT thinking what might happen to us - a car might mount the pavement as we walk, a tile might fall off the roof we are walking past, the house might catch fire, the train might crash, we might choke on a fishbone, we might have a stroke and drown in the bath, we might fall down the stairs...... it is hard enough just trying to think about and avoid some of the other, more obvious risks, that we might get mugged, that we really ought to lose some weight or stop smoking..... But to sit and listen to or read this list of possibilities - it is like a crushing weight being pushed down onto you. And just as the depression really become overwhelming - comes the contrast, the lightening, the way out. Yet another two-line strophe: “Ut’shuvah, U’Tfilla, UTz’daka Ma’avirin et-ro’ah HaGezerah.” Teshuvah - Repentance; Tefilla - Prayer. Tzedaka - acts of kindness and generosity. These will avert the Severe Decree. Is this true? Can we really believe it? Is Life really such a mechanical contrivance, that by putting in enough hours of Prayer or paying enough Charity we can avert all tragedies? No - we know this is not so, we know of good people who die young, of righteous people who succumb to lingering diseases.... this cannot be. So - is there another interpretation, another answer? Yes, says the Poem. There ARE ways we can transform our lives. And the key lies in looking carefully at these three actions. Teshuvah: Return, Repentance. This means altering the way we behave with ourselves, the way we relate to ourselves. If we can change the way we act towards ourselves - then maybe we can transform not only our personalities but remove some of our crushing doubts and worries, our insecurities and guilts. Maybe we can manage to make the coming year less filled with guilt and anger, with bitterness and shyness and feelings of inferiority and shame; maybe we can manage next year to do less things, say less things, that would give us grounds for feeling guilt and shame. Think how much stress could be relieved just by that ! Tefillah - the way we relate to and communicate with God. If we can, in the coming year, manage to find a bit more time to talk to God, to listen to God, to pray to and with God, if we can manage to find time to meditate on our place in the Universe, our insignificance and at the same time our significance as a part of God’s Creation - then, too, we shall be more balanced in the coming year, more at peace, the communication channels will be smoother through more frequent use. Again, the burdens of guilt and shame and fear can be washed away through this procedure - which is open to all of us, if only we care to use it. and Tzedakah - the way we relate to those around us, to other human beings. If we can be kinder and calmer and more tolerant - Tzedakah does not mean just giving money to beggars, it means working towards a society which is more Tzedek, more righteous, more fair - then our lives, too, are improved. It is not just “the Poor”, but our own friends and families, our neighbours and colleagues, the people we meet most often - the relationships to them, too, need constant attention and care and improvement. And the reward for such efforts? Well, not that we shall live necessarily longer, but we should live Better.