The Days of Awe

 

The nine days that span Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are often referred to, by observant Jews, as the “days of awe.”  The gates of repentance are open, and one is to conduct a rigorous self-examination, to forgive others who have committed wrong against one, to ask forgiveness of others whom one has wronged. All this culminates in the public and private Vidui (confessions) that occur during the fast of Yom Kippur. 

 

It is the yearly equivalent of standing on Arafat during the Haj for Muslims and the Lenten fasts of atonement undertaken by Roman Catholics.  The Days of Awe are intended to drive home the admission that human beings harm each other; that all of us stand in need of forgiveness and need also to forgive.

 

Hugh Niessenson’s latest book, “The Days of Awe” derives its title from the Jewish holiday season, but it’s also, more directly about how people attempt to vainly control the inner and outer circumstances of their lives. It’s also about family, love and the deepest human need to generate meaning. 

 

The novel follows an extended (mostly Jewish) New York City family (and friends) through a series of life changing events from August-November 2001.  Obviously, the events of 9/11 are woven into the tale, but are not essential to it, except by way of adding to the backdrop. 

 

For the most part the stories are told in a series of dialogues, both verbal (between characters) and internal (characters within themselves).  You read what Johanna and Artie are saying to Judy and what Judy replies and also what each are saying within themselves (what they aren’t saying out loud). 

 

Over the course of three months, three of the characters die (in very different ways), one character loses his evangelical faith because of the WTC disaster, one attempts to use the trappings of faith to stave off the fear of his wife’s death, new jobs are had, and a baby is about to be born.  All the characters face fears of old age and death.

 

The most fascinating character to me was Rabbi Klugman, who saw his vocation as being focused on bringing Jews back to personal spirituality.  He wanted to see himself as a beacon for secular Jews who have lost their way in the comfortable affluent world of East Coast “borscht-haven.”  He maintained an internal world of dead rabbinic scholars who spoke to him of Talmudic secrets and inventive midrash on the Torah. 

 

One got the feeling he didn’t really listen or speak to people except from the “place” of “being a rabbi.”   And then there was Artie, dear sweet Artie, going to services in memory of his father, but not really believing there was much to it anymore…..until…..

 

Anyway, the days have felt awe-full lately.  As a good friend of mine puts it: “Fall finally fell” and it seems that there are ever more reasons to meditate, pray, to forgive and be forgiven. 

 

When the winds blow, the mud slides and the earth rocks, we are faced with powers, simple basic earthly powers, repudiating any notion that humanity is “in control.” 

 

Two nights ago I was awakened at 3am by the loud honking of a sky full of geese beginning their migrations south. The sound filled me with wonder, comfort and yes, awe. 

 

Our bodies go through amazing cycles of illness and healing, birth and death, love and loss; the cuts on my fingers heal themselves, my emotions flow from peace to anger to wonder to acceptance in a kind of endless wheel.  Lately I’ve been using the following wazifa (pardon the probably spelling errors): Subhannalahi wa bi-hamdihi, Subhannalah il-azimi astraghfralah 100x daily between the time I get up and sunrise, that portion of time that is in between dark and light. 

 

It emphasizes the greatness of Allah (Al-Azim-The Great One) and reminds me how much I don’t know about everything, most particularly about myself, my life, my purpose. 

 

The readings are about ritual, the unexpected, the willingness to let go and allow oneself to be moved by will of God, while yet maintain one’s place.  They are also about the sense of awe that attends any massive change, whether it be in the world or in the heart.  It is not a passive act to be so moved, to stand before the Ark when it is opened on Yom Kippur, to “Know Before Who You Stand.” 

 

We sit, we stand, we kneel, and we bow: the motions of trees that acknowledge brewing storms and yet provide shelter, who know where and whence they are rooted.

 

I recommend the above wazifa as an inculcation of devotion—if such is what you desire.