It is said that Nobel Prize-winning author Shmuel Yoseph Agnon was challenged by a relative of the Archbishop of Canterbury to disclose whether Judaism had any rituals that rose to the level of the great drama of the Easter service in Anglican tradition. In answer, S.Y. Agnon wrote his literary masterpiece: ” The Days of Awe,” published in 1948. He plumbed the vastness of Jewish texts and traditions and extracted his own literary exploration of the High Holy Day rituals. In anticipation of Rosh Hashanah (which begins this Sunday evening), the next several kavanot will draw from the wealth of Agnon’s marvelous work. Full poetic license has been exercised to reflect modern sensibilities and egalitarianism. Passages inspired by “The Days of Awe” are italicized, other content is the author’’s.
Our rabbis tell of a child, raised with care by their parent, who chose a marriage partner who led that child away from the values instilled by their virtuous parent. The parent came to hate the child and refused to allow them entry to their home. The relationship between the child and the parent was torn apart by anger and resentment. The child wandered from town to town, aimless and lost until their appearance was so transformed that when they finally returned to the parent, the child was unrecognizable. It was only when the child said: “Can you not remember my voice?! It is me, the child that you raised from infancy!” At which point the parent reached out and embraced the child in love.
The rabbis loved to speak in parables and often, they incorporated the complex dynamic between children and parents. Years ago, parents came to me in anguish and despair because their son was marrying a Catholic girl in a church. Their plan was to not attend the wedding in protest. They sought my support in that decision. I asked them if they valued their relationship with their son. “Of course!” they said.
“What do you think will happen to that relationship if you refuse to be part of the wedding?”
We talked a bit more and they decided that, in the long run, their relationship with their child and their future grandchildren was more important than the stubborn statement of principles that their absence from the wedding might make.
All too often, I hear of family members who refuse to speak to one another because of some slight that has endured for years. It breaks my heart to learn of families torn apart by such animosities.
The ancient story told by the rabbis reflects two lessons: The first is the importance of restoring broken family relationships; the second is the referents of the metaphor: God is the parent, we are the child. Just as the parent and child in the story restore their relationship, so too will God accept us back in love if we turn to God. Depending on your own understanding of God, you can hold on to this image in a more literal sense as it relates to God’s forgiveness. Alternatively, it can be metaphoric: When you are alienated from yourself because of your own behaviors and choices, you can forgive yourself and work to return to the path that reflects the person you want to be.
What relationships in your life need restoring? What forgiveness must you extend to another or yourself to restore that which has been lost?
—Rabbi Ron Stern