Today is the second day in the Hebrew month of Kislev, a month which is acknowledged by the rabbis as the second season for rain. During Sukkot, our daily prayers for dew are swapped with those for rain, as we pray for the life-giving waters that will ensure a prosperous farming season. Though modern technology has enabled us to survive years of drought, we Angelinos know all too well the devastating effects of compounding drought.
Praying for rain, however, is no simple matter in antiquity. The Talmud discourages Jews from practicing the ancient rite of fasting for rain until Rosh Chodesh Kislev. Only afterwards would the first rain of the season be considered late. In addition, the Talmud warns, we must count seven consecutive days of rain as two separate rainfalls for the purpose of our pleas, and we may only open the fields to gleaning by all once sufficient rains have fallen to provide for the poor.
This almost obsessive detail regarding rainfall traces its origins not just to our forebears’ dependence upon precipitation, but also to the sages’ concern for the welfare of the public, who traditionally committed to fasts in the absence of rain and may have withheld gleanings from their poorer neighbors in anticipation of drought. Much of the Talmudic discourse surrounding rain in Kislev serves to alleviate ancient anxieties while encouraging generosity to neighbors.
Though we tend to obsess less over the weather than our ancestors did, we, too, routinely face circumstances—economic, geopolitical, and environmental—that promote anxiety, and too often, diminish our kind-heartedness toward others. How might we, like the ancient rabbis, shape our discourse to promote confidence, and with it, mercy for all?
–Rabbi Josh Knobel