Celebration Time

I was motoring along I-95 in Rhode Island, on a dreary winter afternoon, listening to the news which was suddenly interrupted by a live audio-cast of an articulate rabbi eulogizing the seven victims of that recent vengeful massacre in the Wakefield suburb of Boston.  I remember him saying that the souls of these innocent victims are now at peace--perhaps in contrast to the killer whose soul is probably in turmoil--and they will never know suffering again. The rabbi's words brought back memories of all sorts of rhetoric I sat through at other funerals, and I also recalled the flowery speeches of graduations, inaugurations, sermons, toasts, and memorials of every description. They always struck me as meaningless words we have to tolerate out of respect, but this Rabbi's eulogy was different for me. Something new flashed across my internal monitor. His words suddenly took on new meaning; they were delivering a message that was fulfulling a human need to acknowledge life-changing events, even death.

That might explain some of the long-winded speeches we're forced to endure at bar/bat mitvahs and weddings, yes and funerals too. But when we start to examine our lives in more detail, we find so many occasions that demand affirmation. A baby is born and soon there's either a bris, a baby naming or maybe a pidyon ha-ben (the redemption of the first born male).  Someone invariably stands up to say a few words, maybe a blessing for the child's future. What would happen if no one said anything? On one hand, you might say, "nothing", but on the other, we need to hear those words; its part of human nature to acknowledge the pivotal moments of life. It's built in to our human operating system. The speech itself doesn't mean as much as the communal participation in the event, maybe it's part of our legacy as social creatures.

I wondered if that rabbi realizes the service he provides with his rabbinical rhetoric and his supervised rituals. We need to hear this eloquence, not only, for the honored guests--the bride and groom, the bar/bat mitzvah--but also for ourselves in order to feel kinship with a community, a very human endeavor. Jewish tradition specifies certain rites of passage--the bris, the pidyon ha'ben, the bar/bat mitzvah, the wedding and the funeral. These are significant life turning points. But there's more: birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and so many other occasions for which Hallmark stays in business. New forms of celebration continue to evolve in order to address events, not included in our traditional sources--for instance, grandparenting, retirement, or job change. These events signify certain life changes that occurs for all of us, but change does not always make for easy adjustment, sometimes it's downright stressful, particularly the loss of loved ones.  Cultures throughout the history of mankind have designed celebrations or rites of passage to ease neophytes through their ordeals. Change is often painful and celebrations help to ease the loss of the original status. I can still remember the distress I dealt with on becoming a teenager: the physical changes, the sexual awareness, the social shift, all resulting in rebellion against school and parental authority.

Celebrations need not only acknowledge change in status, but also to commemorate changes in time. To our farming ancestors, the changes of season brought with them signs of impending danger like drought or flooding. So our festivals--Passover, Shavuot and Succot were originally agricultural holidays that we still celebrate with food, wine, song and dance. In addition, we celebrate spans of time: the week (Shabbat), the month (Rosh Chodesh) and the year; Judaism specifies no less than five New Years. We should also include the seventh year (Sh'mittah) when the crops are left to whither in the field, and the fiftieth year (Jubilee) when debts are cancelled and property reverts to its original owner. Does the rabbi understand the power he wields by smoothing the transition from one week to another by creating a fresh start for the opening of every new interval of time?

We need festivities to balance the humdrum routines of everyday life with our sense of the sacred. Our life cycle events, holidays and particularly Shabbat enable our transition from secular time into sacred present moments. A wedding, for example, instantly transports us into the space of the holy union between God and his female counterpart, the Shechina. Unfortunately, too many of us have found temporary distractions from daily life through the wide scope of entertainment possibilities, when Jewish tradition provides an on-going sense of spiritual satisfaction.

For sure the rabbi-on-the-air helped me to reformulate my opinion of pretentious discourse. No more yawning, looking towards the chandeliers or staring into space, for me. Now I listen intently. The words still may not thrill me, but I know behind the mask lies a restrained pride bursting to shout out with passion.