SEPTEMBER 14 • 2023 | 81
So in parts of the world are
Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs and,
for that matter, atheists. No
historian looking back on our
time will be tempted to call it
the age of tolerance.
HUMAN SOLIDARITY
Which brings us back to
the Yamim Noraim. There is
a note of universality to the
prayers on Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur that we do
not find on other festivals.
On other festivals, the
key section of the Amidah
begins, Atah bechartanu
mikol ha’amim, “You chose us
from among all the nations.”
The emphasis is on Jewish
singularity.
On the Yamim Noraim the
parallel prayer begins, “
And
so place the fear of Lord
our God, over all that You
have made … so that all of
creation will worship You.”
The emphasis is on human
solidarity. And human
solidarity is what the world
needs right now.
One message resonates
through these days: life.
“Remember us for life, King
who delights in life, and write
us in the Book of Life for Your
sake, God of life.”
We sometimes forget how
radical this was when Judaism
first entered the world. Egypt
of the Pharaohs was obsessed
with death. Life is full of
suffering and pain. Death is
where we join the gods. The
great pyramids and temples
were homages to death.
Anthropologists and
social psychologists still
argue today that the reason
religion exists is because
of people’s fear of death.
Which makes it all the more
remarkable that — despite
our total and profound belief
in olam haba and techiyat
hametim, life after death
and the resurrection of the
dead — there is almost
nothing of this in most of
the books of Tanach. It is an
astonishing phenomenon.
All of Kohelet’s cynicism and
Job’s railing against injustice
could have been answered in
one sentence: “There is life
after death.” Yet neither book
explicitly says so.
To the contrary, King David
said in a psalm we say daily:
“What gain would there be if
I died and went down to the
grave? Can dust thank You?
Can it declare Your truth?”
Near his death, Moshe
Rabbeinu turned to the next
generation and said, “Choose
life, so that you and your
children may live.” We take
this for granted, forgetting
how relatively rare in the
history of religion this is.
Why so? Why, if we believe
the soul is immortal, that
there is life after death and
that this world is not all
there is, do we not say so
more often and more loudly?
Because since civilization
began, heaven has too often
been used as an excuse for
injustice and violence down
here on Earth.
What evil can you not
commit if you believe you
will be rewarded for it in
the world to come? That is
the logic of the terrorist and
the suicide bomber. It is the
logic of those who burned
“heretics” at the stake in
order, so they said, to save
their immortal souls.
FEAR THE ‘FEAR OF LIFE’
Against this horrific mindset,
the whole of Judaism is a pro-
test. Justice and compassion
have to be fought for in this
life not the next. Judaism is
not directed to fear of death. It
is directed to a far more dan-
gerous fear: fear of life with all
its pain and disappointment
and unpredictability. It is fear
of life, not fear of death, that
have led people to create total-
itarian states and fundamen-
talist religions.
Fear of life is ultimately fear
of freedom. That is why fear
of life takes the form of an
assault against freedom.
Against that fear we say
from the beginning of Elul
to Sukkot that monumental
psalm of David (Ps. 27):
“The Lord is my light and
my salvation. Whom then
shall I fear? The Lord is the
stronghold of my life. Of
whom then shall I be afraid?”
On Rosh Hashanah we
blow shofar, the one mitzvah
we fulfill by the breath of
life itself without needing
any words. On the first
day of Rosh Hashanah, the
“anniversary of creation,”
we read in the Torah
and haftarah not about the
birth of the universe but
about the birth of Isaac to
Sarah, and Samuel to Hannah,
as if to say one life is like a
universe. One child is enough
to show how vulnerable life
is — a miracle to be protected
and cherished. On Yom
Kippur we wear the kittel, a
shroud, as if to show that we
are not afraid of death.
Never before have I felt so
strongly that the world needs
us to live this message, the
message of the Torah that
life is holy, that death defiles,
and that terror in the name
of God is a desecration of the
name of God.
The State of Israel is the
collective affirmation of the
Jewish people, a mere three
years after emerging from the
valley of the shadow of death,
that Lo amut ki echyeh, “I will
not die but live.” Israel chose
life. Its enemies chose the way
of death. They even boasted,
as did Osama bin Laden, that
the love of death made them
strong. It did not make them
strong. It made them violent.
Aggression is not strength;
it is a profound self-
consciousness of weakness.
And the main victims of
Islamist violence are Muslims.
Hate destroys the hater. Today
it is not just Israel or Jews
whose freedom is at risk. It is
the whole of the Middle East,
large parts of Africa and Asia,
and much of Europe.
Therefore, let us approach
the New Year with a real sense
of human solidarity. Let us
show, by the way we celebrate
our faith, that God is to be
found in life. The love of God
is love of life. Let us take to
heart King David’s insistence
that faith is stronger than fear.
No empire ever defeated the
Jewish people, and no force
ever will.
May God write us, our
families, the people and State
of Israel, and Jews throughout
the world in the Book of Life.
And may the day come when
the righteous of all nations
work together for the sake of
freedom, peace and life.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-
2020) was a global religious leader,
philosopher, the author of more
than 25 books and moral voice for
our time. His series of essays on
the weekly Torah portion, entitled
“Covenant & Conversation” will
continue to be shared and distributed
around the world.