You May Be Seated

By: Larry Gordon

Here we are, here we go. 

We walk into shul every day of the year, and certainly every Shabbos, and as far as I can recall, they don’t have seating charts on the walls. In fact, the policy in most shuls is that you can pretty much sit anywhere.

But as we head into Rosh Hashanah, everyone develops a certain sensitivity on this matter, and suddenly where you sit takes on prime importance.

Perhaps you’ve noticed from past years my semi-obsession with seating on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, even in a shul where you daven every week, if not every day.

I’ve always been curious and intrigued about how to reconcile this week’s pre–Rosh Hashanah Torah reading, Atem nitzavim hayom, “You are standing today,” when committees of people in shuls around the world are concerned about where you sit instead of where you stand.

When I was a teenager, I used to daven with my dad at Chabad headquarters on the second floor of 770 Eastern Parkway. I have many detailed and fond memories of those days, but two aspects stand out in my mind most poignantly. One is that I recall a young man who didn’t wear a tallis, so I assumed he was an older single, and he always stood in the back of the shul where he didn’t have a seat. The other thing I remember is that in our minyan, which was held in the Friediker Rebbe’s library or office, everyone had a place to sit, but you needed to purchase that seat.

I loved that shul. I love that minyan and the roles the various people played. Their faces, their expressions, and all the things they said will forever be etched in my mind. I don’t remember all their names, but I’m sure that for the most part, they are not with us in this world anymore.

I have a picture on my office wall, just opposite my desk, that I glance at at least once per day, usually more. One of the people in the photo (which I believe was taken at a farbrengen in 1965), shows my grandfather, R’ Yochanan Gordon, sitting two seats away from the Rebbe. And two seats away from the Rebbe on the right is Rabbi Moshe Dov Ber Rivkin (a revered rosh yeshiva at Yeshiva Torah Vodaath for almost 50 years). He was the leader of that upstairs minyan.

I don’t know the back story of how he ended up davening in this Rosh Hashanah-Yom Kippur minyaninstead of downstairs with the Rebbe, all I know is that he was always there and was a key figure in that minyan. He was so prominent, in fact, that he was the person who was called up to the Torah for Maftir each day of Rosh Hashanah and probably on Yom Kippur, too, although I do not specifically recall. He was also the man who blew the shofar for that upstairs minyan on Rosh Hashanah.

I recall that Rosh Hashanah when he simply had no more koach and could not blow the shofar anymore. It must have been in the mid-1970s, when the Rav was in his mid-80s, and I even recall the moment he stopped blowing the shofar and simply handed it to the younger man standing next to him, who apparently had strong lungs and banged out those tekiyos with all his might.

I remember the look of disappointment on Rabbi Rivkin’s face that day. After that, he never blew the shofar again. But he was still able to recite the Haftorah, especially on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, when we read the story of how Chana cried out to Hashem because she was childless. It is from the great biblical personality of Chana that we learn about the power of prayer, and this is particularly important to our Rosh Hashanah davening.

Each year as Rabbi Rivkin read the Haftorah, he would sob uncontrollably. There were a few times when he had to stop leining, take out his handkerchief from the pocket of his kapote, and wipe away his tears. At one point, I remember being confused as to why he cried so much. Surely, he remembered the story from the previous year, that Chana gave birth to Shmuel, who grew up to be one of the greatest prophets in Israel. I could not understand why he cried so much when he must have read this story numerous times.

The important point to remember is that for every year of life, there is nothing repetitious about Rosh Hashanah. It might feel repetitious sometimes, but if you feel that way, you might be missing an important dimension of the New Year.

This coming Shabbos is the day we would normally observe as Shabbos Mevorchim, the day on which we bless the new month, which in this case would be Tishrei that begins on Monday.

However, unlike all the other months of the year, this is the one month we do not bless. At the same time, after almost a month of sounding the shofar every day, on erev Rosh Hashanah, we will abstain from sounding the shofar.

That should strike us as a bit odd. After all, the days leading up to Rosh Hashanah are about sounding theshofar, and blessing the month of Tishrei should be one of the crown jewels of all the months of the year.

So, why do we skip blessing the new month of Tishrei, which is filled with the holiest of our holidays? And why do we disregard blowing the shofar on the day prior to Rosh Hashanah just as we are about to welcome the New Year?

There are multiple dimensions to how these matters unfold. One way to look at it is from the perspective of the yetzer ha’ra, which is especially active at this time of year, serving as a prosecutor arguing against the Jewish people as we approach the Yom HaDin.

Can you imagine that detrimental evil force, the yetzer hara, urging our Creator, the King of Kings, to take note how the Jewish people have overlooked blessing the new month and forgotten to blow the shofar on erev Rosh Hashanah?

Of course, we see the matter differently. The Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote in one of his sichos that these customs that call for us to abstain from sanctifying the new month and blowing the shofar on erev Rosh Hashanah serve a higher purpose. On one level, it’s a way to potentially confuse the Satan, who might receive the wrong signals from us by believing that we are sinning, thereby doing his damaging job for him. On the other hand, it’s a clever day to throw the yetzer hara off our trail, so to speak. I know it’s football season so think of it like one of those zigzag runs down the field that shakes off the defender and puts you in a position of a graceful down-the-field catch that results in a touchdown (bad example, but timely).

By way of illustration and reiteration, there is a story about the Tzemach Tzedek, the third Lubavitcher Rebbe, who had an audience with a chassid to discuss some problem the chassid had. The Rebbe listened carefully, but after a while, he told the petitioner that he could not help him. Later that same day, the Rebbe’s brother found the chassid sitting outside on the street sobbing uncontrollably about this problem which the Rebbe could not help him with.

When the Rebbe’s brother heard what had transpired, he asked the Rebbe about it, at which point the Rebbe said to send the chassid back in for a berachah. The brother asked the Rebbe why he did not just give the chassid the berachah to begin with rather than sending him away without it.

The Rebbe said that when he first met the chassid, he was not the proper receptacle for the blessing that he needed. Now that he has had a deep and meaningful cry that stirred his soul, he is able to receive and internalize the berachah that will have the proper impact on whatever his problem was.

Now, let’s broaden the picture somewhat. Just take a look at us, the Jewish people. We are ready to give up the mitzvah of blessing the new month and blowing the shofar on erev Rosh Hashanah. And then we are overcome with the shock and surprise that we gave up these two great mitzvahs just for the purpose of making an effort to confuse the Satan.

But then we realize how much we had to give up, not unlike the chassid, who was bemoaning his fate when the Rebbe said he could not help him with his issue. Giving up these two important mitzvahs should on one level shock us, but on another level, it should inspire us to come to the realization, or at the very least, bring us to the point of teshuvah.

So, while some of us are maneuvering for a comfortable seat in shul, keep in mind as the parashah says this week, that today we are “standing before Hashem.” And you can certainly be seated, so long as you are in good standing. 

Read more of Larry Gordon’s articles at 5TJT.com. Follow 5 Towns Jewish Times on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter for updates and live videos. Comments, questions, and suggestions are welcome at 5TJT.com and on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.