"As long as there is life, there is hope" - a Rosh Hashanah sermonette
Strangely, the sound of the shofar did not register on the above video (perhaps it can only be heard by human ears, not machines). It came out as a silent scream, which is in itself a powerful message. But for those who would like to actually hear it, click below:
No I’m not going to try to drag us down with this sermon. I can see the title now: “Is it hate to hate a hater?” An important question, but not a great high holidays sermon. As we step into a new year - and our despondency seems to have become permanently imprinted on our souls, I’m reminded that it is hope that is the thing with feathers, residing permanently in each of us, us, always there to lift us up in the toughest of times. And there is one prayer that pierces the pessimism and startles us with flash of hope and a glimmer of a promise of renewal.
Judaism guides us always to have hope. As long as there is life, there is hope. And that message comes in the form of a prayer that is part of the very first thing uttered as we enter the new year. It’s a blessing known as the Shehechianu.
Praised are You, Adonai our Source, who has revived us, sustained us and brought us to this moment in time.. Shehechiyanu, V'kiyemanu, V'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.
There are prayers, and then there is the Shehechianu. For Jews, no matter what our background, only the Sh'ma and possibly the Kaddish are more universally known than this liturgical gem. It is prayer imbued with history and laden with positive teachings about the value of life and seizing the moment. It helps us to appreciate every small gift we receive, from a new article of clothing, to a first fruit, to a new baby, and to see it all as a gift from God. It is what we say when we kiss the soil of Israel for the first time, and the cheek of our grandchild at her Bat Mitzvah. This prayer is filled with more emotion than a hundred Olympiads, and more tears than the end of Casablanca.
When I awoke from my prostate cancer surgery last March, I recited the Shehechianu. When the catheter was removed ten days later, I recited the Shehechianu. I’m told it’s a coin flip that it will return. Every time the bloodwork tells me it hasn’t yet returned, I recite a Shehechiyanu. This is a prayer for a life lived at the edge.
There's something very odd and seemingly self-contradictory about this prayer in Jewish practice. Here is a blessing that is supposed to be recited only on very special occasions or when doing something for the first time, and yet we do it so darn often.
On the High Holidays it almost gets ridiculous. We say it when we light the candles on Rosh Hashanah, both nights, and when we say the Kiddush, both nights, at services and at home; we say it when we eat a new fruit and wear new clothing, both of which are customary on this holiday. We say it when we blow the shofar, we say it after Kol Nidre and when lighting candles before Yom Kippur. So we say over a dozen Shehechianus on these ten days alone, and that doesn't even count those that we recite for reaching our individual milestones. Jewish law enjoins us to recite Shehechianu for all types of milestones, from the birth of a child to receiving good news, to buying a new car, even the appreciation of one’s investments. The 16th century law code known as the Shulchan Aruch says that the blessing can be done at the moment of purchase, rather than having to wait to actually use the item, because it is a natural outpouring of the "joy of the heart," to acquiring something new. If we really took this to heart, we would actually be reciting more prayers at the local mall than we do in the synagogue. Or online when shopping at any site that we don’t happen to be boycotting at the moment. And the floor of the stock exchange would routinely echo with more joyous davening than Friday afternoon at the Kotel.
But don't get me wrong. Shehechianu is not about acquisition and ownership. It's not that we are exalting possession. Shehechianu is all about the joy of newness. New things, new people, new seasons, new epochs. Newness. Because newness implies renewal. And renewal implies revival. And revival implies the triumph of life over death. Every moment worthy of a Shehechianu is a moment framed in eternity.
A blessing, any blessing, is a celebration of the here and now. The word "b'racha," shares etymological roots with the word "braycha," which in Hebrew means a pool of water. And how is a blessing like a swimming pool? Because when we jump in, we really awaken. The shock of the cold and wet brings radical awareness. Our nerves tingle. We suddenly become completely aware of parts of us that we hadn't noticed in days. Then, the survival instinct takes hold. Our arms and legs act urgently to get us to the surface. Breathing is no longer taken for granted. And the water transforms us, refreshes us. Jumping into a pool, we feel fully alive. And that ubiquitous word for life, "Chai," forms the root of the word Shehechianu.
A Shehechiyanu moment is much like what we boomers used to call a Kodak moment. When we take a photo, we are trying to freeze an instant of sublime happiness in time, so that we can retrieve it later on when we need to reconnect to our truest selves. The Shehechianu, like a photo, captures those priceless moments, but unlike a photo, it also connects each moment to the bigger picture. It links all the pictures together in the album, and every album to the eternal web of life.
I can recall saying Shehechianu so many times while on the pulpit; each holiday, each Bar and Bat Mitzvah, each conversion I presided over, each one a step, each moment priceless. And I recall saying Shehechianu every Rosh Hashanah. The milestone marker becomes the link -- the link back to when my father and mother used to say it while I was growing up, and my grandparents before them.
This prayer helps us to connect the dots of our lives, and thereby to connect our lives to the lives of those around us, those who preceded us, and those who will follow us.
When we manage a glimpse of the big picture from time to time, it helps us to enjoy the ride. Because we realize that history is going somewhere, that our actions do have meaning, that our lives do have a purpose. When we see the present moment as the nexus of all that has happened in the past and all that will happen in the future, and when we live to be fully present in the here and now, it is as if we are present at the Creation itself. Hayom Harat Olam. Today it all begins. No wonder both the Torah and Haftorah readings on the first day of Rosh Hashanah deal with children being born. And in a sense we all are born today, and we are giving birth to the future.
For the most part, when we are not living life on that edge, we drift. When we allow days and nights to run into each other like wet ink on a white page, we lose the dots, we don't make the connections. It is a spiritual death - and we are all on the danger list. Shehechianu helps us to gain our bearings again. It puts us right back on the edge - its' reference to revival makes us all the more acutely aware of our mortality. From that moment of revival, that utterance of Shehechiyanu, emerges the seed of new life.
Which brings me this exquisite statement of faith, a Shehechiyanu moment shared with us by my dear friend Pamela Cohn Allen, who wrote this as she neared the end of her long struggle with cancer.
"Every day, and at many moments, I recite a Shehechianu. A particularly meaningful one, though, was this past spring. Throughout the previous year, filled with such struggle, mental and physical pain, I had held as a beacon - spring in Israel'. If only God would give me the strength, that was my goal. I had learned, as an immediate instinct after being diagnosed with cancer, not to plan. But at some point, as my strength started to build up, I cherished the goal of being in Israel during the spring. At the end of March, I sat at the Friday night table of my sister in Jerusalem, with her beloved family. We held hands, and hearts, and with quiet, overbrimming joy, recited the Shehechianu."
And so today, from the depth of our souls, we breathe in life and exhale a prayer, Shehechianu: For the Jewish people reborn in our ancient land, in the hopes that we can shake off the barnacles of cynicism and despair that have so hardened on our hulls, to fight for justice, equality and peace - in America, Israel and her neighborhood, and throughout the world. Shehechianu, for you, for me, for everyone who is truly alive, for everyone who rejoices in this wonderful, astonishing ride of life. Shehechianu, V'kiyemanu, V'higiyanu lazman hazeh.
This sermon was adapted from a sermon I gave on Rosh Hashanah, 2000 at Temple Beth El, Stamford, CT
Rabbi, Rabbi, Rabbi, Good News: https://lite.aol.com/news/story/0001/20250922/f1cbe85a829e3d5e5496f834bcb617d1
Good afternoon Rabbi, Yes, as long as there is life there is hope.
My personal saying is that "life is great if you don't weaken".
I just looked it up to see where I might have heard it. Well, it's been in songs, poetry and written in books. I usually say it when things are not going so well. I have no idea when I first heard or read it; but, obviously it made a deep impression.
Pretty sure I'll be thinking of you and Shehechianu also. It can cover so many things you are right one could be saying it all day because new things are so often special events. Seeing chicks hatch, seeing the hen leading her little brood around and teaching them how to eat and drink, seeing seeds sprout, and yes the new clothes and such.
I couldn't hear the Shofar so I went to You Tube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ht0ailWQf8 As I listened to it I looked at the wonderful picture of the sea that you posted.
Wishing you and yours a very Happy New Year and many more to come.
Oh, bye the way, I never even knew the Jewish people had their own New Year until you wrote about it. :-)
Thank you
Thank You Rabbi for this lovely meditation. My Irish Catholic Mother's favorite and often said quote was "Where there is Life, there is Hope".
As a long time Volunteer in a Cancer Treatment Center, I said this to many patients and it not only helped to dispel fear, it seemed to greatly prolong lives.
Today’s essay was delightful. A peaceful and healthy New Year to you and all of yours, from me. Faithfully, Claudia. (But most of all, good health to you💙).
Shana Tova
L´shana tovah u´metukah Rabbi Hammerman. Good health in this new year, over all other wishes, for you and your family. I´ll hear the shofar the first time this morning as a MOT in the Ohel Jakob Synagogue in Munich. And I love that prayer. And everything you write! So hang in there, keep us nourished with knowledge and wisdom. You are very important to us all!