"The First Rosh Hashana" by R. Gellman

When Adam was placed in the Garden of Eden by God, he was amazed at everything. The smell of the flowers made him dance. The sound of the birds made him sing for joy. But of all the things that amazed Adam, the most amazing to him was the sun. It warmed his face without touching him, and it was the only thing in the garden he could not reach. When the wonderful sun disappeared behind the edge of the garden, Adam was really scared! He cried all night long, and he kept his eye on the exact spot where the sun had disappeared.

After a long while, he felt something warm on his back. He turned around and saw the sun peeking over the other edge of the garden. Adam was happy but confused. Then Cod explained to him how the time from one going down of the sun to another going down of the sun was one day; the time of seven days one week; the time of four weeks one month; and the time of twelve months one year. Then God stopped telling Adam about time.

Adam began to think, "God has told me that this day will be followed by six other days to make one week, and that this week will be followed by three others to make one month, and that this month will be followed by eleven others to make one year: but, what time will come after one year? Maybe... no time! Maybe the sun will go down and never come up again?" Adam was still amazed at things, but now he was frightened and worried. He counted the days and the weeks and the months, waiting for one year. He counted and waited and worried.

By the time the twelfth month came around, Adam was fidgety and nervous and could not sleep at night. "A year is the biggest time! When the year is used up all the time will be used up. The sun will go down and never come up. I will have to live in the cold and dark where I will not be able to see the flowers or hear the birds, and I will trip over things!" said Adam.

On the evening of the last day of the last week of the last month of the year, Adam did not sleep a wink. He went around the garden chewing his fingernails and saying goodbye to all the things in the garden. To each living thing Adam said, "I won't see you . If I have hurt your feelings this year I am sorry. I hope you will forgive me. Then Adam would kiss the thing and move on around the garden. After a while, just after Adam had finished saying he was sorry to some bug, he felt something warm on his back. He whirled around and saw the sun peeping up over the edge of the garden again, just like every day of the year. Then Adam heard Cod counting, "Ten years are one decade. Ten decades are one century. Ten centuries..."

By this time Adam had fallen asleep. He was amazed at the bigness of time. Time was even bigger than the sun. Adam decided to remember the end of each year by apologizing to all the living things he might have hurt during that year. He felt better doing it, and he remembered how scared he had been during the first year.

When Adam awakened the next day, he smelled the flowers and heard the birds “How does G-d Judge?”

My father of blessed memory, Moshe Buchwald, would tell a story concerning Divine that made a deep impression on me.

There was once a peasant, a wicked peasant, who despised Jews, and at every opportunity would persecute and ridicule them. In fact, his whole life was dedicated to evil. He hardly ever did anything redeeming.

One Friday afternoon, a wagon load of Jews was traveling in the forest. In the middle of this wilderness, far from habitation, the wagon got stuck in the mud, in the muck, and couldn’t be extricated. The desperate Jews got out of the wagon and began to tug at the horses and push the wagon. The more they pushed, the greater their effort, the deeper entrapped became the wagon.

The peasant stood on the side watching the Jews in their predicament, laughing, and mocking and cursing. Finally, after he could no longer tolerate the spectacle, he derisively chased the Jews away, unhitched the horses, and lashed himself to the wagon. With one great heave, he pulled the wagon out of the mud. As he departed, he cursed the Jews one last time. The Jews got back on to the wagon, and continued to their destination, arriving just in time for Shabbat.

When the evil peasant died, those special angels that are assigned not to the “Pearly Gates,” but to the “fiery gates,” were delighted to see his soul arrive. At long last, here was a bonafide candidate for perdition and destruction, for the fiery furnaces, who truly deserved eternal damnation. And with great fanfare, accompanied by a brass band in full regalia, they ushered the peasant’s soul to the fiery gates.

Just as he was about to be thrown into the fiery furnace, a voice was heard. A tiny little shouted from a distance. “Wait, wait, wait!” he said. “You can’t throw him into the fiery furnace without a trial.” The other angels scoffed. “What do you mean a trial?” they said. “This man is evil incarnate. There’s no question.”

The little angel stood his ground, insisting on a trial. The heavenly scale was brought forth. All the peasant’s evil deeds were placed on one side of the scale, while the other side remained empty–absolutely empty. Gathering courage, the little angel said, “Don’t you remember, don’t you recall, the one Friday afternoon when the peasant rescued a wagon load of Jews who were stuck in the muck?” The other angels responded impatiently, “Come on. How can a single good deed outweigh a life of such evil? Forget it! Leave him to us!”

“We must perform the actual measurement,” said the little angel. “Even though you think it’s insignificant, I insist that this good deed be placed on the scale!”

The one good deed is put onto the scale, and all the evil deeds on the other side. No contest! The angels joyously grab the peasant and prepare to burn him to a crisp.

Again the little angel shouted, “Wait, wait, wait. You have to add to this good deed all the observances that the Jews kept on that Shabbat on account of his deed, as well as all the transgressions that he saved them from committing. You must put them on the scale as well.”

To avoid additional unpleasantness from this increasingly obnoxious angel, the others agreed to put those deeds as well on the scale. But as everyone already knew beforehand, it was useless. The evil far outweighed the good.

“Wait, wait, wait! You must put the instrument of the mitzvah on the scale, you have to put the wagon on the scale.” They put the wagon on the scale, but even this heavy weight could not tip the balance. They even put the horses on the scale, and yet the weight of the sins prevailed.

Finally, the little angel acknowledged that his battle was lost. The Angels of Destruction took the peasant, and stood ready to cast him into the fiery furnace.

At the very last moment the little angel had one final desperate idea. He screamed, “Wait, you have to put the mud on the scales!”

And it balanced out.

This is a somewhat puzzling story. It seems to presume that a person can live an extremely sinful life, and yet be redeemed by a single meritorious act. As strange as this may seem, it is true, since we never know the value that the Divine tribunal ascribes to a particular deed or misdeed. We mortals need to be constantly aware that what may seem in our eyes as a trivial or simple transgression, may appear in G-d’s eyes as a very serious breach or violation. That’s the challenge of Teshuva.

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950). Renascence and Other Poems. 1917.

RENASCENCE

All I could see from where I stood And every scream tore through my throat. I ceased; and through the breathless hush Was three long mountains and a wood; No hurt I did not feel, no death That answered me, the far-off rush I turned and looked another way, That was not mine; mine each last breath Of herald wings came whispering And saw three islands in a bay. That, crying, met an answering cry Like music down the vibrant string So with my eyes I traced the line From the compassion that was I. Of my ascending prayer, and -- crash! Of the horizon, thin and fine, All suffering mine, and mine its rod; Before the wild wind’s whistling lash Straight around till I was come Mine, pity like the pity of God. The startled storm-clouds reared on high Back to where I’d started from; And plunged in terror down the sky, And all I saw from where I stood Ah, awful weight! Infinity And the big rain in one black wave Was three long mountains and a wood. Pressed down upon the finite me! Fell from the sky and struck my grave. Over these things I could not see; My anguished spirit, like a bird, These were the things that bounded me; Beating against my lips I heard; I know not how such things can be; And I could touch them with my hand, Yet lay the weight so close about I only know there came to me Almost, I thought, from where I stand. There was no room for it without. A fragrance such as never clings And all at once things seemed so small And so beneath the weight lay I To aught save happy living things; My breath came short, and scarce at all. And suffered death, but could not die. A sound as of some joyous elf But, sure, the sky is big, I said; Singing sweet songs to please himself, Miles and miles above my head; Long had I lain thus, craving death, And, through and over everything, So here upon my back I’ll lie When quietly the earth beneath A sense of glad . And look my fill into the sky. Gave way, and inch by inch, so great The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear, And so I looked, and, after all, At last had grown the crushing weight, Whispering to me I could hear; The sky was not so very tall. Into the earth I sank till I I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips The sky, I said, must somewhere stop, Full six feet under ground did lie, Brushed tenderly across my lips, And -- sure enough! -- I see the top! And sank no more, -- there is no weight Laid gently on my sealed sight, The sky, I thought, is not so grand; Can follow here, however great. And all at once the heavy night I ‘most could touch it with my hand! From off my breast I felt it roll, Fell from my eyes and I could see, -- And reaching up my hand to try, And as it went my tortured soul A drenched and dripping apple-tree, I screamed to feel it touch the sky. Burst forth and fled in such a gust A last long line of silver rain, That all about me swirled the dust. A sky grown clear and blue again. I screamed, and -- lo! -- Infinity And as I looked a quickening gust Came down and settled over me; Deep in the earth I rested now; Of wind blew up to me and thrust Forced back my scream into my chest, Cool is its hand upon the brow Into my face a miracle Bent back my arm upon my breast, And soft its breast beneath the head Of orchard-breath, and with the smell, -- And, pressing of the Undefined Of one who is so gladly dead. I know not how such things can be! – The definition on my mind, And all at once, and over all I breathed my soul back into me. Held up before my eyes a glass The pitying rain began to fall; Through which my shrinking sight did pass I lay and heard each pattering hoof Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I Until it seemed I must behold Upon my lowly, thatched roof, And hailed the earth with such a cry Immensity made manifold; And seemed to love the sound far more As is not heard save from a man Whispered to me a word whose sound Than ever I had done before. Who has been dead, and lives again. Deafened the air for worlds around, For rain it hath a friendly sound About the trees my arms I wound; And brought unmuffled to my ears To one who’s six feet underground; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground; The gossiping of friendly spheres, And scarce the friendly voice or face: I raised my quivering arms on high; The creaking of the tented sky, A grave is such a quiet place. I laughed and laughed into the sky, The ticking of . Till at my throat a strangling sob The rain, I said, is kind to come Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb I saw and heard, and knew at last And speak to me in my new . Sent instant tears into my eyes; The How and Why of all things, past, I would I were alive again O God, I cried, no dark disguise And present, and forevermore. To kiss the fingers of the rain, Can e’er hereafter hide from me The Universe, cleft to the core, To drink into my eyes the shine Thy radiant identity! Lay open to my probing sense Of every slanting silver line, Thou canst not move across the grass That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze But my quick eyes will see Thee pass, But could not, -- nay! But needs must suck From drenched and dripping apple-trees. Nor speak, however silently, At the great wound, and could not pluck For soon the shower will be done, But my hushed voice will answer Thee. My lips away till I had drawn And then the broad face of the sun I know the path that tells Thy way All venom out. -- Ah, fearful pawn! Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth Through the cool eve of every day; For my omniscience paid I toll Until the world with answering mirth God, I can push the grass apart In infinite remorse of soul. Shakes joyously, and each round drop And lay my finger on Thy heart! All sin was of my sinning, all Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top. The world stands out on either side Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. How can I bear it; buried here, No wider than the heart is wide; Mine was the weight While overhead the sky grows clear Above the world is stretched the sky, -- Of every brooded wrong, the hate And blue again after the storm? No higher than the soul is high. That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine O, multi-colored, multiform, The heart can push the sea and land every greed, mine every lust. Beloved beauty over me, Farther away on either hand; And all the while for every grief, That I shall never, never see The soul can split the sky in two, Each suffering, I craved relief Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold, And let the face of God shine through. With individual desire, -- That I shall never more behold! But East and West will pinch the heart Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire Sleeping your myriad magics through, That can not keep them pushed apart; About a thousand people crawl; Close-sepulchred away from you! And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Perished with each, -- then mourned for all! O God, I cried, give me new birth, Will cave in on him by and by. A man was starving in Capri; And put me back upon the earth! He moved his eyes and looked at me; Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd I felt his gaze, I heard his moan, And let the heavy rain, down-poured And knew his hunger as my own. In one big torrent, set me free, I saw at sea a great fog bank Washing my grave away from me! Between two ships that struck and sank; A thousand screams the heavens smote; The Arrogant Prince Based on a story taken from Rabbi Isaac Balzer’s classic boon “Kochav Ohr,” used to demonstrate the meaning of the phrase..”Our father, our King, hear our voice, pity and be compassionate to us,” found in the Aveinu Malkenu prayer.

There once was a King Well there stood the prince And the King had a son In his black tattered robes, And the son was a clever but arrogant prince Waiting out in the cold saying And the prince would often act with open disdain “Please let me in” And with bold disregard to his father the King And the guard took one look And the King wanted hard to ignore it At this strange ragged man But in vain was the burden he bore And said “I know the prince, So they banished the prince from the palace And buddy, you are not him.” Though still what he wore But the King heard the noise in the palace Were his royal robes. And the pleading and the cries of someone Ane he called to the guard “Let him in, Well the prince went in search Let him in, let him in; Of somewhere to begin That’s the voice of my son” And he came to a town But he felt out of place Aveinu Malkenu For the men were all miners Our Father our King And he a noble man Please hear our voice, With his long royal robes and his soft royal face Please let us in. And they made him an honorary miner And though we are ragged Digging done in some forsaken hole And though we are wrong all along But the robes that were once much finer We know it’s true Turned black as the coal Aveinu Malkenu. And badly tattered. Aveinu Malkenu So then, thought the prince. Our Father our King “I am far too elite. Please hear our voice I must dress and behave Please let us in. As the common folk do” And though we are strangers, And he let grown his hair Deep in our voice is the cry And he drank and he cursed of your wandering son. And became like the others though possibly worse. Aveinu Malkenu But the King had a change of heart one day Our Father Our King. And he longed for his wandering son So somehow they finally found him But strangely enough, He’d forgotten who he was.

From the Album “Wayward Ram” Ohr Somayach Yeshiva Chaim Salenger, 1993

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STvGgwsRBvA starts at 27:05