"`Sisra's mother looked out of the window and she wailed.'
One Sage maintains that she sobbed in broken groans, like a
person groaning from his heart, a sort of moaning like sick
people who utter drawn out guttural sounds. Another Sage
maintains that she wailed with intermittent sobs,
yeloloh, like a person weeping and wailing in short
gasps closely following one another" (Rosh Hashonoh
33b and Rashi).
Wailing comes sharply, rending the night like the howling of
hungry hyenas, a hollow echo reverberating throughout the
universe, penetrating deep into the soul. The yowling of
starved, frightened wolves piercing the quiet night, cutting
it up into ribbons of mournful shrieks, cries of pain, dread,
panic, starkly shattering the peacefulness emanating from the
pale moon.
The groaning is evoked from the heart like stricken people
uttering drawn out moans, emitting grunts and sighs that
lighten their suffering, giving voice to their suppressed
pain to whoever deigns to listen, enjoining everything in
their vicinity to share in their hurt. The voice and its
rebounding echo seems to relieve them in some measure,
enabling them to readjust to their inner suffering, as if
their pain becomes more real and substantial once expressed,
its very audible tones capable of soothing once it has been
heard — by their own ear and the ears of those around
them.
*
Weeping is the product of pain and suffering. The teardrop
cannot always testify from whence it came, or explain why, or
where it is going. It materializes from the pain, or the joy,
and slowly rolls down the face.
Capture a teardrop between your fingertips and ask it: What
is your essence? Are you the emissary of all the limbs and
organs, or do you spring from one organ alone? Whom do you
belong to, if anything? Or are you solitary, sterile? Were
you formed from the moistness under the eye, from a
wellspring?
She will ever answer with a staring eye: My secret is
concealed even from my own self.
The sobbing comes in short and long sounds. Sounds and
rebounds, broken, staccato sounds that soothe the weeping
heart through their very exit, liberating their bearers by
their very utterance, their song and their sounding, bringing
relief and release from the heavy burden pressing heavily
upon the heart. They liberate the heart from moroseness and
redeem it from depression, making way for renewed hope.
*
Let me present to you the various forms of crying and wailing
which I have witnessed. There is a small eatery in my
neighborhood that sells Oriental style food. Its owner,
called Mizrachi by coincidence, is pleasantly plump, a person
of good humor. This man is traditionally observant, following
in the footsteps of his parents and grandparents. Always
smiling, benevolent, always offering some other tempting
food: olives, peanuts, cold watermelon — with typical
generosity. A warmhearted man who apparently wouldn't hurt a
fly.
Some time ago, he underwent minor surgery in his cavernous
belly and by some strange quirk, became prey to a deadly
bacteria that attacked all of his vital systems. He fought
the Angel of Death valiantly for forty days, during which the
family was summoned several times to part with him. To be
sure, a great many people were praying for his recovery all
this while.
I visited while he was in the intensive care unit during one
of his more difficult bouts. His family sat outside the room,
not being permitted to enter for fear of contagion. They sat
around, bemoaning his and their bitter fate, their words
occasionally punctuated by sobs and sighs. Heavily equipped
with a battery of cellphones, they were in constant contact
with the other members of the family who were unable to be
there during these difficult hours. Every few moments, the
air was pierced by the ringing of a phone, which would be
passed from hand to hand to exchange weeping and
encouragement, hopes and expectations that Hashem's succor
was indeed nigh.
Suddenly, an agitated nurse emerged from the room and urged
the family to come in and take their leave of their loved one
before he departed this world. I was astounded to see how in
one fell swoop their cries turned into wailing. The weeping
ceased, replaced by shattering, frightening howling and
yowling. Shrieks escaped from their lips as they rushed
forward en masse. Cellphones compounded the wild
noise, but these went ignored, as if they were mere
playthings.
*
The wailing of a newborn infant at the moment of birth is a
shout of life. It resembles the great cry of an adult whose
life is threatened: Give me life! I hunger to live; I cry out
for it with all my might. This is my driving desire,
overriding anything else on earth.
The hospitals are full of people screaming: Give us life. All
hunger for life, but few, indeed, are living their lives. The
majority of mankind just meanders round and round, round and
about life, without actually living it or even touching what
life is really about.
That moment previously described of transition between crying
and shrieking is deeply etched in my memory and my emotions.
It roused me deeply. Mr. Mizrachi escaped the clutches of the
Angel of Death for the meanwhile and was slated to continue
on with life, as he would. After occupying a deathbed for
about five weeks, he returned to his restaurant to continue
plying his trade and making a living. I reminded him of those
critical moments and berated him with my simplistic, naive
questions.
Why are people so determined, so desirous, so stubbornly bent
upon living? Why do people adamantly guard the wick of life
so tenaciously? Why and wherefore? Well — who doesn't
wish to live? Who doesn't cherish life in order to . . .
Life itself is a decree of, "Against your will do you live."
Whether you wish it or not, you will always want to live some
more. The mysterious riddle of life accompanies you even when
you are unconscious of your addiction to it. It is a foregone
decree that forces you to the brink of death itself, to cling
desperately to every strawhold of vitality you own.
Only when a person is on the threshold of death and sees life
itself seeping out, bit by bit, does he begin to understand
that up till now, he wasn't really alive at all. All of his
days and years were lifeless, and the lie of his living slaps
him across the face.
"`A day of teru'oh shall it be for you' — a day
of wailing shall it be for you."
Yom Kippur is a universal day of repentence and atonement.
The days of Rosh Hashonoh are days evoking repentence. We do
not say vidui or "al cheit" on Rosh Hashonoh.
The Ten Days of Repentence begin on Rosh Hashonoh, a time
propitious to discover Hashem's nearness to us. Seek Hashem
when He is nigh; call unto Him when He is near — a day
of wailing.
Repentance does not appear in a flash. One who desires to
return, sincerely, must traverse a slow path in which he
first shows remorse over his past, is ashamed of his deeds,
resolves to change his ways, confesses his sins, and accepts
upon himself a change for the future. This whole process is
obligatory for the penitent's return passage. Pangs of
conscience and soul, sad thoughts of his estranged condition,
thoughts of lessons to be learned and conclusions arrived at,
a view of the stark truth confronting the sinner, poignant
thoughts and admissions about his spiritual circumstances,
combined with feelings of lowliness and worthlessness, an
admission of his blameworthiness and guilt — all these
must be traversed by the person's heart. All of the facets of
the personality must be affected by teshuvoh. It is no
mere mouthing of words or whirling something about in one's
head. Repentance is a qualitative metamorphosis which must
find expression in a change of direction.
One who has repented his sins, who abandons his sinful
practices, needs an additional thing. "That the Diviner of
hidden things testify that he will never revert to this sin
ever again, as it is written, `Nor shall we say anymore to
the work of our hands: you are our gods'" (Hoshea
14:4) (Rambam, Tshuva: chap. 2:5).
We imagine that the Rambam does not only use the word
`yo'id' as merely meaning `to testify' but also
applies the root `yo'ad' — destination and
purpose. Henceforth, after his repentence, a person must make
a change of direction; Hashem shall be the future goal of all
his efforts. Up till now, he was estranged and distanced from
his Creator because of his sin, so that henceforth, in his
new holiness, he must create a new goal: Hashem.
From his very flesh must he acknowledge his Creator as his
personal destination. He must create a new personality that
is totally divorced from his previous sin. No longer shall he
worship the works of his hands. He shall make himself unique
and sole in his repentence and his new dependence upon
Hashem.
A person's repentence does not erase the past — that
has already dissolved into nothingness. He does not amend the
past that is gone. He cannot make resolutions regarding a
future he knows nothing about.
Rather, he takes the sin along with him and affects a
transformation in his personality through it. He uses his sin
to modify his ego which contains both his past and his
future, creating a new personality which did not yet exist.
He returns to his natural propensities together with his sin -
- together with a tremendous power. His remorse is that
power, a kinetic, propulsive energy which can help him reach
his new goal — Hashem. His innate strengths, purified
and transformed, go forth towards his G-d as a new
personality which will never regress again.
"Sisra's mother looked out the window and she wailed . . . "
The hundred blasts which we sound correspond to the hundred
bleats which Sisra's mother emitted. She knowingly deceived
herself into thinking that her son was tarrying to return
from the battle against the Israelites. She had sufficient
reason to believe that he had been defeated but from the
window of her heart, she looked and continued to deceive
herself.
Where did she look? Into her soul. Instead of understanding
that the day of vengeance had finally arrived with its
retribution, she continued to wish. She wove a rainbow of
colored dreams of plunder and spoils, jewelry and adornments
which her son would bring back from the battle. She continued
to delude herself that the enemies of Hashem were still in
power. The spirit of her son was still vital, still tarrying
in order to bring his mother a vaster array of spoils.
So is every person in his own way. Instead of clutching his
head with both hands and facing the reality that his day is
nigh, he beguiles himself into thinking that only gifts await
him at the end of the day. All is well and will continue to
be so.
Even when things do not look good, he is not prepared to face
reality, to shake off his intoxication and sober up. He
refuses to open his eyes and see the abyss gaping at his
feet, but continues to worship the golden calf he has created
for himself. He persists in viewing himself as the center of
his world, an egocentric self worshiper — until it is
too late, and all there is left to do is wail.
*
Repentance can come from weeping or from wailing. Hashem
sometimes helps a person and effects a complete, sudden,
revolution in his personality. During the year, he found
himself wandering aimlessly from place to place, finding no
permanence. His restless soul flitted in exile, finding no
peace or security, oblivious to himself and his Creator.
Suddenly, in a Divine flash, he sees a new light beaming from
deep within, suffusing his entire person with sparks of
warmth. In an instant, everything is illuminated and he is
transformed. Of this type of tshuva did Rebbi weep, "A
person can acquire his World [To Come] in one single
moment."
This is teshuva that bursts forth from self-captivity,
from the hollowness of the weeping soul bemoaning its
desolation, the groaning of the Shoforos of his
heart.
By some, repentence emerges from the flickering of the soul,
from the straits of his sins he finds the hidden holiness
between the nooks of the boulders. And slowly, he rises back
to life and rekindles the flame of his soul. The wailing of
his sobbing rent the fetters of his soul and released it to
the open. Slowly, but with determination. Not with one sudden
outburst at a moment of crisis. The sound of the
shofar roused him from his sleep to the prayers of his
dawn and dredged up his G-d from within his own form through
a trumpeting of that shofar.
"Just as Yosef was only able to appease his brothers through
his weeping, so shall Hashem only redeem Yisroel through
weeping, as it is written, `With weeping shall they come and
with pleading shall I lead them'" (Bereishis Rabba
93).
