Month: September 2026

In the משנה תורה/Mishneh Torah, in הלכות שופר וסוכה ולולב/Hilchot Shofar, Sukkah, and Lulav/Laws of Shofar, Sukkah, and Lulav, the רמב”ם/Rambam addresses these three ritual objects in precisely this order: 1) שופר 2) סוכה 3) לולב.

As I have been thinking about why these three are grouped together, and why they appear in this particular order, it seems clear that the entire month of תשרי/Tishrei—the month we are in—is a sacred month, and that the holidays within it are deeply connected, sharing a common thread.

Perhaps the order reflects the order in which these mitzvot are used, or even acquired. We begin the month with the שופר during ראש השנה/Rosh Hashana, and we concludeיום כיפור/Yom Kippur with the שופר as well. As soon as Yom Kippur ends, we are called upon to turn our attention toward סוכות/Sukkot, beginning with the preparation and construction of the סוכה. Once the סוכה is built, we busy ourselves with preparing for the holiday by acquiring a לולב and אתרוג/Etrog.

Perhaps the order also reflects the way these mitzvot are actually experienced. Clearly, the שופר is used first. But what about the סוכה and לולב?

The סוכה is the very first ritual element of Sukkot we encounter. At nightfall on the first night of the holiday, we begin the mitzvah of eating and dwelling in the סוכה. We do not use a לולב at night, nor do we use it on שבת/Shabbat—as is the case this year. And so, the לולב becomes the third of these three mitzvot to enter into our observance.

The eighth chapter of הלכות שופר וסוכה ולולב begins with a well-known law from the תלמוד/Talmud: we may not fulfill the mitzvah of לולב with a stolen לולב.

At first, this law seems almost unnecessary. It is difficult to imagine that anyone would think it appropriate to fulfill a sacred obligation by doing something wrong. And yet, the rabbis deliberately teach this principle because it allows them to convey a profound value: מִצְוָה הַבָּאָה בַּעֲבֵירָה/Mitzvah HaBa’ah B’Aveirah/A mitzvah fulfilled through a transgression.

The lesson of the stolen לולב is that we cannot fulfill a מצוה through negative means—through sinning, through violating another law, or through causing harm. We must be concerned not only with whether we have fulfilled the commandment, but also with how we have fulfilled it.

There is a positive dimension to this idea that connects with my sermon from כל נדרי/Kal Nidre. In fulfilling the קבע/Keva—the fixed requirements of Jewish law—we must also bring proper כוונה/Kavanah/intention. We should see the observance of every מצוה as an opportunity to bring sparks of the Divine into the world. But we must bring those sparks into the world in a way that honors the Divine and honors our world at the same time.

We have been on a sacred journey that began with ראש השנה, continued through יום כיפור, and now brings us to סוכות. Each step of this journey has been undertaken with intention and sanctity.

Our values matter. Our intentions matter. And the way in which we carry out our obligations matters.

If we are to build a better world—a world in which God can dwell—then we must be conscious not only of fulfilling our obligations, but of the way in which we fulfill them.

 

Yom Kippur (יום כיפור) is one of the most—if not the most—ritualized days of the Jewish year. In the days of the Beit HaMikdash (בית המקדש / The Temple), the day was filled with deeply planned and choreographed rituals led by the Kohenim (כהנים / Priests), and primarily by the Kohen Gadol (כהן גדול / High Priest). Today, we strive to give these rituals modern meaning despite having had to alter them significantly in the absence of the Temple and its sacrificial worship system.

The Mishnah (משנה) dedicates an entire ten-chapter tractate to Yom Kippur, titled Yoma (יומא). Nine of these chapters focus exclusively on the service in the Beit HaMikdash and the numerous responsibilities of the Kohen Gadol on that day. This intense focus on ritual is mirrored in our contemporary worship: the Musaf (מוסף) service on Yom Kippur features a large section called the Seder Avodah (סדר עבודה / Order of the Service), in which we review and recall the day’s historical temple practice in detail.

It’s remarkable that the rabbis apportioned nine-tenths of this tractate to rituals that were already extinct—as the Mishnah was compiled nearly 130 years after the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. Why include this in such a foundational work of Jewish law?

Part of the answer lies in the hope of one day returning to Temple worship, preserving the record of these practices so they could eventually be restored. However, the other major value was the need to keep the Jewish people rooted in their history, story, and practices. By devoting so much attention to a bygone practice, the rabbis laid the groundwork for a people firmly anchored in the past yet prepared for the future.

So, what is in the tenth and final chapter?

This is where the rabbis shifted their focus from national, historic observances to the individual Jew and the local community. The final chapter establishes the forbidden behaviors on Yom Kippur, addresses exceptions to the rules of fasting, and outlines how to handle life-threatening situations.

With just two Mishnayot (משניות) remaining, the rabbis finally turned their attention to sin and Teshuvah (תשובה / Repentance). They examined how forgiveness is earned, concluding that while answers varied, all hinged on the essential presence of genuine remorse and behavioral change.

The rabbis were explicit on one key point: offenses committed against other human beings are not erased until the offender has appeased the aggrieved party. While offenses against God are largely forgiven through the prayers and rituals of Yom Kippur, there is one major exception: the person who repents with the intention of returning to their wicked ways. For this person, there is no path to forgiveness until they truly change their heart and mind.

The entire tractate concludes with a famous teaching from Rabbi Akiva (רבי עקיבא):

“Happy are you, Israel! Before whom do you purify yourselves, and who purifies you? Your Father in Heaven.”

This quote captures the central purpose of the tractate: to remind us that Yom Kippur is a sacred opportunity to receive Divine forgiveness—provided we do the necessary work. It underscores that forgiveness is a sacred, Godly act, not something to be taken lightly.

Repenting is one step, but forgiving others is another matter altogether. As these days of repentance draw to a close, may we each draw from our inherited tradition to unlock the Godliness within us—finding the grace to forgive those around us who are trying so hard to do and be better in a chaotic world.

We’re just about there. The year is coming to a close and a new one is beginning in its place. As Jews, the New Year is indeed a time for revelry and celebration, but it’s also an intense time of reflection and prayer. We look to the past in order to look toward the future.

Just yesterday, I was sitting in my car listening to a podcast called Wondering Jews (Rabbi Biton’s daughter, Mijal, is one of the co-hosts). The subject was a deceptively simple question: Why is it so hard for us to admit when we’re wrong?

They discussed at length the many obstacles that stand in our way when it comes to admitting fault. Ego, fear, and so much more can make it difficult, if not impossible, for us to confront the reality that we can be wrong at times. But if we’re able to look more closely at our lives with the understanding that it’s okay to be wrong, then we can begin to see that we all have work to do—and, importantly, that it’s work we can do.

One source cited in this conversation came from Baruch Spinoza, a descendant of Spanish Portuguese Jews who fled the Inquisition and eventually settled in Amsterdam. Spinoza lived in the 1600s, and his behaviors and views ultimately led to his excommunication from the Jewish community. You can read more about Spinoza here.

They quoted something profound that Spinoza wrote in The Ethics (IV): “Repentance is not a virtue, or does not arise from reason; instead, he who repents what he has done is twice wretched, or lacking in power…For first he suffers himself to be conquered by an evil desire, and then by sadness.”

I had never encountered this source before, and it gave me great pause.

How sad.

How sad it is that someone could believe that we have no ability to regret, to change, and to make amends. How sad it is to live in such a way that the past does not matter and making peace with it is impossible.

What Spinoza got wrong is that the impact of our words and deeds matters. What he got wrong is that while we cannot change the past, we can change the future. What he got wrong is that we make peace with the past for the sake of the future.

Spinoza did not understand the basic principle of תשובה/Teshuva/Repentance as taught by the רמב”ם/Rambam: that real תשובה means being confronted with the same circumstances and opportunities and choosing to do differently.

It is through recognizing the errors of our past that we can set ourselves up to build a better future. This is the reality of a person of faith. This is the reality of a person of hope. This is the Jewish vision of תשובה—and it’s at the heart of the moment when we change from one year to the next, looking backward and forward at the same time.

I look forward to seeing all of you this weekend for ראש השנה/Rosh Hashana.

On the first day, we will observe a memorial marking the 25th anniversary of 9/11. It’s so hard to believe that it’s already been 25 years.

As a reminder, there will be no שופר/Shofar on day one because it’s שבת/Shabbat. The שופר will be sounded on the second day, and we cannot wait to hear its beautiful blasts.

Carrie, Ayelet, and Galit join me in wishing a Happy New Year from our family to yours.

 

שנה טובה/Shanah Tovah,

Rabbi Hearshen

 

Last week I wrote about the שופר/Shofar, its shape, and the animal it comes from. I mentioned that we will not sound the שופר this year on the first day of ראש השנה/Rosh Hashana because it falls on שבת/Shabbat. What I forgot to explain was the reasoning behind this rule. Why don’t we sound the שופר when ראש השנה falls on שבת?

The answer comes from the תלמוד/Talmud, where the rabbis discuss what happens whenראש השנה occurs on שבת. They explain that in the בית המקדש/Beit HaMikdash/The Temple, the שופר was sounded on שבת. After the destruction of the Temple, however, a rule was put in place prohibiting the sounding of the שופר on שבת.

The reason they gave was a concern that a person might take a שופר from one domain to another on שבת and thereby violate the prohibition against carrying. The laws of carrying do not apply in the same way on an ordinary יום טוב/Yom Tov, which is why we are permitted to carry a שופר on ראש השנה when it does not coincide with שבת.

This is a very technical answer, and a difficult one to understand or relate to. The rabbis’ concern was that perhaps the person tasked with sounding the שופר for the community did not know how to do it properly. They might therefore take their שופר with them on שבת, go out, and find someone who was an expert to teach them, help them, or allow them to practice.

Again, this is very technical and seems so obscure you might reasonably ask why we’re still adhering to this rule today. I don’t know of anyone who has been assigned the role of sounding the שופר who has not practiced or prepared for this enormous responsibility and honor. At the same time, it’s clear that many people who sound the שופר have their own שופר, which they bring with them to services each year. In that situation, they are essentially carrying because the community needs them to have their שופר with them and to be ready to sound it.

Some may also be familiar with the laws of carrying on שבת and know that there’s a well-established workaround, an ערוב/Eruv, that allows people living within its boundaries to carry on שבת. In Atlanta, we have at least four different ערובs. Shouldn’t the people who live in those communities be exempted from this prohibition?

Well, what would it be like to live in a world where people in one neighborhood were able to experience the holiday in one way while those living outside that neighborhood were required to experience it differently? There needs to be one law for all of us to follow. And so, the law remains: we are prohibited from sounding the שופר when ראש השנה and שבת fall together.

In the תלמוד, the rabbis also debate where this prohibition comes from. One explanation they offer is based on an apparent inconsistency between two verses in the תורה/Torah.

דַּבֵּ֛ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל לֵאמֹ֑ר בַּחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשְּׁבִיעִ֜י בְּאֶחָ֣ד לַחֹ֗דֶשׁ יִהְיֶ֤ה לָכֶם֙ שַׁבָּת֔וֹן זִכְר֥וֹן תְּרוּעָ֖ה מִקְרָא־קֹֽדֶשׁ׃

“Speak to the Israelite people thus: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts.” (ויקרא/Leviticus 23:24)

And then:

וּבַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשְּׁבִיעִ֜י בְּאֶחָ֣ד לַחֹ֗דֶשׁ מִֽקְרָא־קֹ֙דֶשׁ֙ יִהְיֶ֣ה לָכֶ֔ם כׇּל־מְלֶ֥אכֶת עֲבֹדָ֖ה לֹ֣א תַעֲשׂ֑וּ י֥וֹם תְּרוּעָ֖ה יִהְיֶ֥ה לָכֶֽם׃

“In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe a sacred occasion: you shall not work at your occupations. You shall observe it as a day when the horn is sounded.” (במדבר/Numbers 29:1)

For those reading the English translation, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly peculiar or noteworthy. But when we look closely at the first verse, there’s a word that’s being translated in a particular way: זִכְרוֹן.

The word זִכְרוֹן means “remembrance.” That’s why the translation uses the word “commemorated.” But it can also be understood as “a remembrance of the sounding of the horn,” or, more specifically, a remembrance of the sounding of the שופר.

The rabbis suggested that perhaps this verse was teaching us that there are times when we only remember the sound of the שופר rather than actually sounding it. This explanation is ultimately rejected because, before the destruction of the Temple, the שופר was sounded there even on שבת. Nevertheless, I find it to be a beautiful way to understand our practice.

In the end, the rabbis seem to accept that our practices changed after the destruction of the Temple. One of the remnants of that change is that we no longer sound the שופר whenראש השנה falls on שבת. Perhaps we can understand this as one small way of remembering that our people and our religious tradition are incomplete and altered because of the loss of theבית המקדש/Beit HaMikdash.

This year, we will sound the שופר on the second day of ראש השנה, and we hope you will be able to join us and take part in this incredible ritual—one that awakens us to examine our lives, reflect on who we are, and find ways to make ourselves and our world better.