 | We've begun the 100-day countdown to Rosh Hashanah. (Yes, it feels too early.) So it's especially fitting that this week's Torah portion provides tradition's words for the Great Forgiveness attached to the end of Kol Nidre. But forgiveness for what? What awesome and terrible thing needed divine forgiveness back then? What most needs it now? |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Shlah Lekha 5786 (2026)
We've begun the 100-day countdown to Rosh Hashanah. Some will stop reading right here: yes, it feels too soon. It's especially fitting that this week's Torah portion pre-echoes what's coming. If we're deeply truthful, it bellows what's already here within.
Let erev Yom Kippur enter your mind. It's the apex of Jewish spiritual time. This sacred night magnetizes folks who aren't regulars. The time comes. We stand. The Torah comes forward. We are riveted. Every heart presses with anticipation. Our frailties and foibles press even harder. Nobody moves. The silence is almost deafening. Finally, tradition's haunting incantation smashes the silence:
Shlah Lekha 5786 (2026)
We've begun the 100-day countdown to Rosh Hashanah. Some will stop reading right here: yes, it feels too soon. It's especially fitting that this week's Torah portion pre-echoes what's coming. If we're deeply truthful, it bellows what's already here within.
Let erev Yom Kippur enter your mind. It's the apex of Jewish spiritual time. This sacred night magnetizes folks who aren't regulars. The time comes. We stand. The Torah comes forward. We are riveted. Every heart presses with anticipation. Our frailties and foibles press even harder. Nobody moves. The silence is almost deafening. Finally, tradition's haunting incantation smashes the silence:
| כָּל נִדְרֵי וֶאֱסָרַי וַחֲרָמֵי וְקוֹנָמֵי וְכִנּוּיֵי וְקִנּוּסֵי וּשְׁבוּעוֹת דִּנְדַרְנָא וּדְאִשְׁתַּבַּעְנָא וּדְאַחֲרִימְנָא וּדְאָסַרְנָא עַל נַפְשָׁתָנָא | Kol nidre v'esarei va'haramei v'konamei v'khinuyei v'kinusei u'shevuot dindarna ud'ishtabana ud'aharimna ud'asarna al nafshatana... | All vows, and oaths, and prohibitions, and bans, and promises, and terms, and consecration, and pledges that we vowed, or swore, or devoted, or banned on our souls ... |
After three increasingly energetic repetitions of Kol Nidre, the music changes from haunting to hopeful. We hear the fateful words of this week's Torah portion that Moses pleaded to God (Numbers 14:19-20):
| סְלַֽח־נָ֗א לַעֲוֹן הָעָ֥ם הַזֶּ֖ה כְּגֹ֣דֶל חַסְדֶּ֑ךָ וְכַאֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתָה֙ לָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה מִמִּצְרַ֖יִם וְעַד־הֵֽנָּה׃ וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יהו׳׳ה סָלַ֖חְתִּי כִּדְבָרֶֽךָ׃ | Please pardon the iniquity of this people in accordance with Your great loving kindness, as You have lifted this people from Egypt until now.” YHVH said, “I pardoned as you asked." |
What did our spiritual ancestors do that impelled Moses to plead so fervently on their behalf? Why do we repeat Moses' words at Judaism's most poignant moment of Great Forgiveness?
In a word: fear. Their fear got the better of them.
At last, our ancient ancestors had reached the Land of Promise. Twelve scouts checked out the Land and returned to camp with its tremendous bounty – "It flows with milk and honey," they said (Num. 13:27). Even so, 10 still couldn't see past their fears: they focused only on the obstacles. The more they spoke of the obstacles, the bigger the obstacles seemed and the worse the future seemed. As they aggrandized the obstacles and doubled down on fear, they roused others to become afraid and defiant also.
The scouts narrated that, as a result, they felt like they were shrinking: "We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves," they said, "and so we must have looked to them" (Num. 13:33). Sapped of collective pride and hope, the people mourned the meaninglessness of their epic journey. They threatened to appoint a new leader and return to bondage in Egypt.
That was the last straw: after so many episodes of fear, faithlessness and rebellion (e.g. Golden Calf), God told Moses that God would abandon the people and start anew with Moses and his descendants.
Moses pleaded for God to forgive them – their paralyzing fear, their blindness to their own abilities, their persisting lack of faith in the Power lovingly leading and sustaining them, their inability to see the good, their spread of slander, gossip, and dismay to others.
God forgave. But because that generation was too fearful and faithless to move forward, only the next generation would approach the Land again. That's why the Children of Israel wandered the desert for 40 years.
Fast forward from then to now. We too can be consumed by fear, blind to our own abilities. Yes, some things in the world are scary. And, often our fear over-responds to whatever we imagine to be the object of our fear. It's fear that tells us we can't. Faith and courage tell us what's more important than our fear.
We too can over-focus on the negative, failing to see the good for what it is and can be. There are reasons why hakarat ha-tov (recognizing the good) is such a cherished Jewish value.
We too might spread slander, gossip and dismay. There are reasons why lashon ha-ra (bad speech) – even to speak truth in an unwise or hurtful way – is such a core Jewish wrong.
We too might self-justify our behaviors based on our feelings, which might have little or even nothing to do with what's unfolding in the moment. There are reasons why Judaism teaches deep introspection and profound kindness before and while critiquing another (tokhehah).
In these elementally human dynamics lie most communication breakdowns, relationship breakdowns, community breakdowns, missteps, unhealed hurts, grudges, triggers, and just about everything about ourselves and others that most irks us.
It's up to us whether we will wander the desert or enter our Land of Promise. It's up to us whether we will shrink. It's up to us whether fear, negativity, grudges and gossip will hold us back from our best selves.
You're not a grasshopper. You're a child of the Sacred.
It's less than 100 days until Rosh Hashanah. The long slow turn begins.
In a word: fear. Their fear got the better of them.
At last, our ancient ancestors had reached the Land of Promise. Twelve scouts checked out the Land and returned to camp with its tremendous bounty – "It flows with milk and honey," they said (Num. 13:27). Even so, 10 still couldn't see past their fears: they focused only on the obstacles. The more they spoke of the obstacles, the bigger the obstacles seemed and the worse the future seemed. As they aggrandized the obstacles and doubled down on fear, they roused others to become afraid and defiant also.
The scouts narrated that, as a result, they felt like they were shrinking: "We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves," they said, "and so we must have looked to them" (Num. 13:33). Sapped of collective pride and hope, the people mourned the meaninglessness of their epic journey. They threatened to appoint a new leader and return to bondage in Egypt.
That was the last straw: after so many episodes of fear, faithlessness and rebellion (e.g. Golden Calf), God told Moses that God would abandon the people and start anew with Moses and his descendants.
Moses pleaded for God to forgive them – their paralyzing fear, their blindness to their own abilities, their persisting lack of faith in the Power lovingly leading and sustaining them, their inability to see the good, their spread of slander, gossip, and dismay to others.
God forgave. But because that generation was too fearful and faithless to move forward, only the next generation would approach the Land again. That's why the Children of Israel wandered the desert for 40 years.
Fast forward from then to now. We too can be consumed by fear, blind to our own abilities. Yes, some things in the world are scary. And, often our fear over-responds to whatever we imagine to be the object of our fear. It's fear that tells us we can't. Faith and courage tell us what's more important than our fear.
We too can over-focus on the negative, failing to see the good for what it is and can be. There are reasons why hakarat ha-tov (recognizing the good) is such a cherished Jewish value.
We too might spread slander, gossip and dismay. There are reasons why lashon ha-ra (bad speech) – even to speak truth in an unwise or hurtful way – is such a core Jewish wrong.
We too might self-justify our behaviors based on our feelings, which might have little or even nothing to do with what's unfolding in the moment. There are reasons why Judaism teaches deep introspection and profound kindness before and while critiquing another (tokhehah).
In these elementally human dynamics lie most communication breakdowns, relationship breakdowns, community breakdowns, missteps, unhealed hurts, grudges, triggers, and just about everything about ourselves and others that most irks us.
It's up to us whether we will wander the desert or enter our Land of Promise. It's up to us whether we will shrink. It's up to us whether fear, negativity, grudges and gossip will hold us back from our best selves.
You're not a grasshopper. You're a child of the Sacred.
It's less than 100 days until Rosh Hashanah. The long slow turn begins.
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