One of the mitzvot that is described in this week´s Torah reading is that of bikurim - the offering of the first-harvested fruit on the premises of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Jewish farmer, after surviving the arduous task of planting and harvesting his precious and hard-won crops, brings the fruit of his labors to the kohen in the great and holy Temple in Jerusalem. There, upon handing over his basket of bikurim to the kohen and the altar, the Jewish farmer recites a prayer of thanksgiving and hope. But the language of that prayer, at first glance, appears to be out of place with the ceremony of bikurim that it is meant to commemorate. Instead of the expected and logical thanks for the rain, the sunlight and the bounty of the fertile earth, the prayer is a short review of ancient Jewish history. It tells of the travails of our founding forefathers, the descent of the tribes of Israel into Egyptian bondage, their eventual redemption from that bondage and their entry into the Holy Land, and the struggle of Israel to establish itself in its promised land.

Then, the prayer almost abruptly switches to the acknowledgment of God´s bounty in helping the farmer bring this first-harvested fruit offering to the Temple. What is the import of this construction of the prayer? Why the history lesson? What are we to make of this recitation of the prayer of bikurim? People are justifiably proud of their accomplishments. After all, one´s efforts and talents, time and struggle, are of no minor consequence in one´s life. Many times, we feel that this is perhaps all we have to show for our years on earth. Therefore, there is a human tendency to view one´s achievements in a somewhat exaggerated fashion, without being able to place the true accomplishment in realistic perspective.

In life, individual or communal, nothing takes place in a vacuum. There is always a past to our efforts and struggles, as we hope there will be a future to them as well. If we do not somehow see ourselves in the light of that past, we really cannot be aware of the true nature of our accomplishment in the present. The disregard of the past is a common illness in twentieth century life. Much of secular society and secular Jewry blithely ignores the lessons of our past and of general history at large. Same-sex marriages, blind pagan worship of the environment and nature, widespread use of addictive drugs, a disproportionate emphasis in life on sports and unwarranted adulation of athletes and the strong, feel-good and undemanding moral standards - all were staple components of the downfall of society in the Classical Era of Greece and Rome. But our world blithely ignores all of the lessons of the past. We see our society as being new and progressive, existing in a vacuum, cleverer by far than all generations that preceded us.

That is the false reality that the Torah warns about in this prayer of the bikurim service. Before the Jewish farmer, proud of his achievements and confident of his future and success, proclaimed his personal victory in the holy Temple of God, he first had to recite and remember a basic lesson of Jewish history. He had to admit that life and society did not begin with him, that his "first harvest" - bikurim - was preceded by many other such "first harvests." This sobering assessment of life is realism - uncomfortable, disturbing, thought provoking, challenging and valuable. The Torah prescribes this realism as the gateway to wisdom. We should all treasure our accomplishments in life. We should love and value our children and family. We can be proud of our companies, awards, enterprises and commercial successes. But we should be wise and cautious and remember our past in assessing our present. The necessity to avoid hubris and be realistic about our achievements is the key to true human success. That may be accomplished by studied knowledge and appreciation of our historic past.

One of the frightening phenomena of civilizations, both ancient and modern, is discussed in the Torah reading this week. That recurring phenomenon is the one of the false prophet. The Torah warned the people of Israel that there would be false prophets in their future. It also warned them how dangerous and sinister such people are, because, for all of their charisma and attraction, their influence is lethal. Even if the false prophet gives signs and omens to substantiate the prophecy that he is advancing, and those signs and omens apparently become actual and real, nevertheless the Torah admonishes us "do not dare to succumb to listen [and have belief] in him."

The Torah wants us to carefully inspect both the message and the messenger before investing our behavior and future in the forecasts of anyone. The Torah especially emphasizes the danger of "dreamers of dreams," the purveyors of utopian schemes, unrealistic magic and ideologue nonsense. Look at what Karl Marx´ dreams, theories and ideological certainties have accomplished for mankind. How about the false prophets of all of the major idealistic movements of our sad century? Hitler, Mao, Lenin, Stalin, Trotsky, Pol Pot, etc. all prophesied the emerging "New Order," the "Brave New World," "Democratic Collectivism," "Redesigning the World," and all of their prophesies gained millions of believers. But all their dreams, certainties and bravado ended up as pure nonsense, or better put, impure bloody nonsense. False prophets are deadly expensive luxuries for human societies.

How does one spot a false prophet? Again, the Torah is most instructive in dealing with this problem. If the prophet promotes goals, or means to achieve those goals, which are contrary to the accepted value norms of Torah, then he is automatically a false prophet. The promotion of paganism, the unjustified violence in the supposed cause of good, "moral" political and intellectual leaders who are personally immoral, radicals who are determined to destroy everything old to make way for the purportedly blessed new - none of these scenarios is allowed by the Torah. They should not be condoned by society, certainly not by Jewish society, either.

Our world is always looking for a new false prophet. The new ideologues such as the Greens, who are dangerously close to pantheism, if not paganism; the homosexual lobby, interested in proselytizing others and debasing all standards of accepted human behavior established over the last two millennia; and the true believers, both Right and Left, who believe that coercive social engineering is the panacea for all our inner and communal ills, are all part of the group of the false prophets of our time. We should be steadfast in avoiding being swayed by their currently, but only temporarily, politically correct, siren song. Anything that does not conform to God´s natural law of nature and humans, as clearly expressed in the Torah, is a dangerous delusion and a false and destructive type of prophecy.

The Jewish society, because of its innate, almost naive, search for spirit, perfection, and a compassionate and just world, is particularly prone to the disaster of false prophets. The Jewish world in its long history has been able to identify and reject false prophets and false messiahs, but that ability has suffered over the past two centuries. Our Jewish world has embraced many Jewish and non-Jewish false prophets, ideologies, programs and goals recently. The disastrous consequences of such recklessness in the Jewish world are by now patently obvious to all unprejudiced observers. The admonition of the Torah to ignore and reject the false prophets of the world is as valid today as ever. We disregard it at our extreme peril.

Britain’s chief rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, today (August 27, 2002) delivers an unprecedentedly strong warning to Israel, arguing that the country is adopting a stance "incompatible" with the deepest ideals of Judaism, and that the current conflict with the Palestinians is "corrupting" Israeli culture.

In a move that will send shockwaves through Israel and the world Jewish community, Professor Sacks departs from his usual policy of offering only public endorsement of Israel, and broad support for moves toward peace, by giving an explicit verdict on the effect that 35 years of military occupation and decades of conflict are having on Israel and the Jewish people.

"I regard the current situation as nothing less than tragic," he tells the Guardian in an exclusive interview. "It is forcing Israel into postures that are incompatible in the long run with our deepest ideals."

He goes on to speak of being "profoundly shocked" at the recent reports of smiling Israeli servicemen posing for a photograph with the corpse of a slain Palestinian. "There is no question that this kind of prolonged conflict, together with the absence of hope, generates hatreds and insensitivities that in the long run are corrupting to a culture."

He also admits that in 1967 he was "convinced that Israel had to give back all the [newly-gained] land for the sake of peace" - and he does not renounce that view now.

Prof Sacks is at pains to underline his continuing, avowed support for the Jewish state - citing repeated efforts by Israel to make peace, and the Palestinians’ failure to take the same "cognitive leap" towards compromise. Nevertheless, and despite the careful phrasing of his remarks, referring twice to dangers "in the long run", many in rightwing Jewish and Israeli circles will be angered by his comments.

"The nature of these comments are quite unlike anything he has ever said before," one senior Jewish community figure said yesterday. "The right will be surprised and angry." Liberal and dovish Jews are bound to welcome his statements.

Since becoming chief rabbi in 1991 of Britain’s Orthodox Jews, and the de facto leader of the country’s 280,000-strong Jewish community, Prof Sacks has successfully avoided any overtly political pronouncements on Israel.

He has preferred to be a public defender of the country and to offer broad support for the pursuit of peace as a divinely-sanctioned endeavour. At the time of the Oslo peace process, he was in regular correspondence with the Israeli prime minister, Yitzhak Rabin.

But he has steered clear of opining on the moral status of Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, in sharp contrast with his predecessor, Immanuel Jakobovits, who sparked outrage more than a decade ago when he condemned Israel for "lording it over" the Palestinians.

Community insiders predicted that Prof Sacks’ latest comments could prompt a similar wave of fury. Much of Anglo-Jewish opinion has followed the Israeli shift to the right since the outbreak of the current intifada two years ago.

The chief rabbi is bound to cause further controversy by calling for dialogue with the most extremist representatives of radical Islam.

In today’s interview, timed for the publication of his new book, The Dignity of Difference, which is serialised in the Guardian this week, Prof Sacks says he would even sit down with Sheikh Abu Hamza - the fundamentalist north London cleric who admits to sharing the views of Osama bin Laden and who describes himself as a Taliban sympathiser. Yesterday the sheikh was quoted saying it was "OK" to kill non-Muslims, and equating Jews with Satan.

Nevertheless, Prof Sacks says a meeting between the two is "a thought worth pursuing. I absolutely don’t rule it out."

The chief rabbi, 54, also reveals that he has already met one of Iran’s highest-ranking clerics, Ayatollah Abdullah Javadi-Amoli. At a meeting brokered by the Foreign Office and never disclosed until now, the two met for secret talks during a UN conference of religious leaders in New York in 2000.

"We established within minutes a common language", says Prof Sacks, the "particular language believers share."

The chief rabbi’s new book is subtitled "How to avoid the clash of civilisations", and aims to offer the world a roadmap away from disaster. He calls on orthodox faiths in particular to realise that difference is not a problem to be managed, but an "essential" part of creation itself.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has always wielded more clout than the size of his 280,000 strong flock would suggest, but now he has embarked on his most ambitious mission yet: to map out a way for different cultures to get along in a globalised world. He is deeply, fiercely ambitious. Not personally, you understand, but for the human race. He sets his sights high; his goals are on an epic scale. His latest book, The Dignity of Difference, is typical, its aim summarised in the subtitle: How to Avoid the Clash of Civilisations.

"I’m issuing a call in a number of languages," he declares, "and to a number of different constituencies, to say, ‘Guys, we have to begin to conceptualise our world in a different way if we are to survive the 21st century.’" The book seeks to offer nothing less than a new "mode of coexistence for the whole planet".

Not bad for the spiritual leader of a community numbering no more than 280,000 (less if you count only the orthodox Jews his office formally represents). But that fact has never inhibited Jonathan Sacks. Through his broadcasts - he’s a Thought for the Day regular - and his regular newspaper columns, he has become a recognised voice in the national conversation. His easy gift with the soundbite, delivered in his trademark mellifluous tones, carrying their vague hint of the transatlantic, has made him a media favourite. When the conventional wisdom grew especially harsh on George Carey, it proclaimed Sacks as the pre-eminent religious leader in the land (a position he may have to cede now that Rowan Williams is heading for Canterbury). He has regular contact with Tony Blair and describes as one of his "loveliest friendships" his connection with Gordon Brown. The chancellor has apparently called Sacks into No 11 for several conversations on how the latest New Labour thinking "plays out in the Jewish sources".

So the chief, as Jewish community activists tend to refer to him, is used to punching above his weight. That, and stellar academic credentials, have equipped him with the confidence to ask the big questions.

The latest challenge is to construct a way for different cultures to get along in a globalised world. The old mechanisms were fine in their day, says Sacks: the principles of religious tolerance or separation of church and state worked well inside the boundaries of a nation state. But we are no longer living in neatly defined, single societies; now we inhabit a world where "everything affects everything else", whether it’s terror or economics. So now we need "a doctrine strong enough to allow different groups to live together without an overarching political structure."

Sacks’ manoeuvre is to see the problem as the solution; to view difference not as a difficulty to be overcome, but as the very essence of life. He’s looked at the latest thinking in biology, which confirms how similar we all are - all life made up of the same four basic characters of genetic code - but also how essential difference is, with every ecosystem dependent on bio-diversity.

He’s gone back to his roots as a Cambridge economics undergraduate, including, in the new book, both a critique of the excesses of global capitalism and a moral defence of the free market. Sacks reminds himself of Ricardo’s rule that, when one man trades axe-heads with another who catches fish, they both benefit.

But biology and economics were not enough for Sacks. He wanted an argument that would persuade the three great Abrahamic religions - Judaism, Christianity and Islam - that difference is a virtue. Since orthodox religion is responsible for so much of the world’s bloodshed, with September 11 only the most obvious example, it was no good coming up with secular, rational arguments for diversity. He needed a proof that would come "from the heart of the whirlwind". He went back to the sacred texts that the three major faiths share.

Sacks looked at the first 12 chapters of Genesis, before Isaac and Ishmael part: the symbolic moment when Judaism and Islam begin their separate journeys. "The key narrative is the Tower of Babel," Sacks explains. "God splits up humanity into a multiplicity of cultures and a diversity of languages." God’s message to Abraham is: "Be different, so as to teach humanity the dignity of difference."

That may sound like a statement of the multicultural obvious, but the chief rabbi knows that, for the orthodox faiths, such talk marks a profound shift. Instead of the familiar notion of "one God, one truth, one way", Sacks is claiming divine approval for human variety.

And he believes that even religious fundamentalists will have to take notice of this message - because it’s right there, within their own sacred texts. "Religious tolerance or pluralism have always been secular doctrines that could be dismissed as western or decadent by fundamentalists. This idea they cannot dismiss."

But such talk will surely not fly with the most hardline Muslim clerics, those who endorse, for example, the Hamas and Islamic Jihad suicide bombings against Israelis? Don’t be so sure, comes the answer. It turns out that Britain’s chief rabbi has had several secret meetings, previously undisclosed, with a variety of radical Muslims, including Ayatollah Abdullah Javadi-Amoli, one of Iran’s highest-ranking clerics. They met during a UN conference of religious leaders in 2000; the Iranian requested the meeting, the foreign office arranged it.

"We established within minutes a common language, because we take certain things very seriously: we take faith seriously, we take texts seriously. It’s a particular language that believers share." A language, says Sacks, which most Muslims feel is not understood in the west.

That encounter, among others, gave him the confidence to believe it was possible to "speak across difference". Now he is convinced that, if both sides to any conflict - whether a marriage dispute or a bloody war - truly listen to each other, they can, eventually, reach a resolution.

But aren’t there some differences too wide to bridge? Could Sacks "hear the voice of God" from the mouth of a Muslim extremist who approved of terrorist violence? Could he even bring himself to meet such a man?

"Yes."

Would he meet, say, Abu Hamza, the sheikh of Finsbury Park, a Taliban sympathiser who admits to sharing the views of Osama bin Laden?

"Yes." In fact, Abu Hamza sent a message of support to the Jewish community of Finsbury Park, north London after its synagogue was recently desecrated. So a meeting with the sheikh is, says the chief rabbi, "a thought worth pursuing. I absolutely don’t rule it out."

This is not, insists Sacks, "Pollyanna-ish optimism", but a conviction born of experience. He believes that even the widest chasms - those that could end in a clash of civilisations - can be bridged, so long as each side gives the other a respectful hearing. The only impossibility is dialogue with people "who kill those with whom they disagree." He could not sit down with a would-be suicide bomber: "In order to listen, I have to be alive."

Hovering above our conversation, and much of the book, is, inevitably, the Middle East. So much of what he says - about the need for both sides to listen to the pain, and hear the narratives, of the other - applies directly to the conflict ofIsraelis and Palestinians. Yet that conflict appears, explicitly at least, only rarely in the book.

Which feeds directly into a critique often made of Sacks by the Jewish left: that he has failed to follow the bold lead set by his predecessor, Immanuel Jakobovits. Despite his reputation as an ultra-conservative on social issues such as homosexuality, and as Margaret Thatcher’s favourite cleric, Jakobovits was renowned inside Israel and the wider Jewish world as a dove, advocating territorial compromise with the Palestinians long before it became fashionable. He infuriated many rightwing Jews with his stance against Jewish settlements in the occupied territories, but he never wavered.

Sacks has maintained no such position, so that even now - 11 years into a term that began when he was 43 and could run until he is 65 - many Jews admit that they can’t quite pin down his views on this most urgent of questions. One observer, who has followed his career closely, says the chief rabbi has a knack for wrapping his pronouncements up in parable, quotation or ambiguous language, balancing his statements with qualifications, so that "both left and right end up feeling he is on their side". It is a handy skill in a politician but, to his critics, this eagerness to please has been Sacks’ key failing, on communal issues as well as Israel: he has worked too hard at keeping all wings of Britain’s factional Jewish community on board, and not hard enough at setting a lead.

So what are his views of the current Israeli situation? What does he make of the ancient Jewish command, quoted in his book: "Do not ill-treat a stranger [ie a non-Israelite] or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt"? How can that square with Israel’s 35-year-long occupation of the West Bank and Gaza?

"You cannot ignore a command that is repeated 36 times in the Mosaic books: ‘You were exiled in order to know what it feels like to be an exile.’ I regard that as one of the core projects of a state that is true to Judaic principle. And therefore I regard the current situation as nothing less than tragic, because it is forcing Israel into postures that are incompatible in the long- run with our deepest ideals."

That statement will be incendiary in some Jewish and Israeli circles, and he is reluctant to go further, to specify which Israeli actions might be incompatible with those "deepest ideals" of Judaism. He wants, instead, to put the other side, to explain how the Israeli peace camp is repeatedly "checkmated" by Palestinian terror: every time Israeli liberals preach compromise, Palestinians kill more innocents. He wants to stress how Israel made the "cognitive leap" towards compromise when former prime minister Ehud Barak offered major concessions two years ago, and how "there has been no parallel cognitive leap" on the Palestinian side. And he does all this fluently and with passion, his language always accessible - proving why it is that Jewish communal leaders now regard Sacks as Israel’s best defender in Britain.

Still, when pressed, he will admit the anguish Israel’s own conduct causes him. "There are things that happen on a daily basis which make me feel very uncomfortable as a Jew." He was "profoundly shocked" by reports of smiling Israeli soldiers posing for a photograph with the corpse of a slain Palestinian. "There is no question that this kind of prolonged conflict, together with the absence of hope, generates hatreds and insensitivities that in the long run are corrupting to a culture."

Would he join those rabbis who have described the occupation as morally corrupting? He answers by telling how, in 1967, in the immediate aftermath of the Six Day war, he had a rare argument with his late father. "I was convinced that Israel had to give back all the land for the sake of peace. My father, bless him, was convinced that Israel’s neighbours would never make peace. Thirty five years later, I think we were both right."

Would it not help if he was less roundabout on this topic? No, he says, people listen to "a still, small voice" more readily than a loud one. Besides, in desperate times, a prophet is called on to give a message of hope: Jews feel so beleaguered by the current Middle Eastern situation, he says, it is his job to encourage, not scold.

He’s more direct on Iraq. He would support military action on three conditions: if there was a clear objective and endgame, a broad coalition of support, and very strict safeguards against civilian casualties. Was the new archbishop of Canterbury wrong to speak out against a war? "That’s what is called the dignity of difference," says Sacks, his eyes screwed up in a benign smile.

"There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle."

Competition is an accepted condition in our society. In commerce, sports, government, the arts and sciences, competition is the fuel for the engine that drives our society forward. Without competition we would be at the mercy of monopolists, cartels and a controlled society that would stifle all progress, efficiency or incentive for personal reward. The Talmud itself speaks highly of competition, at least in educational and scholarly matters, when it states "competition amongst scholars increases wisdom and knowledge." Nevertheless, like all seemingly positive attributes, competition should have its limits. Unrestrained, cut-throat, vicious competition is immoral, wrong, and eventually counter-productive to society itself.

This week´s Torah reading introduces the prohibition against the concept of "hasagat gvul" - unfair and immoral competition. The Hebrew words "hasagat gvul" literally mean overstepping or illegally encroaching on one´s neighbor´s border. Just as it is obviously wrong to move one´s border fence to gobble up a piece of ground of the neighboring lot, so too is it wrong to engage in unfair competitive practices in order to injure someone´s business for the benefit of one´s own business enterprise. As naive and altruistic as this may appear at first glance, there is sound social and economic sense behind this Torah policy.

The Torah is interested in creating a fair, just, harmonious and compassionate society. Unfair competitive practices, when employed regularly, openly and without shame, prevent the achievement of such a society. In the words of Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra, the great philosopher, poet and biblical commentator of the twelfth century, "for such unfair competition [such as border encroachment] automatically leads to quarrels, violence and even murder." Rapacious economic practices in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries led to the reactions of socialism, communism and other state-controlled economies in the twentieth century. The prophecy of ibn Ezra of "quarrels, violence and even murder" was thus fulfilled in front of our horrified eyes. Excess begets excess and greedy, exploitative, unfair competition begets unfair state-controlled, repressive monopoly and tyranny. Thus, the Torah frowns on negative remarks regarding competitors’ products and personalities.

Negative advertising, whether in politics, commercial services or manufactured products, is not allowed and is definitely a form of loshon harah - evil speech. One may describe accurately and even boast about the wonderful and unique qualities of one´s own products or services, but it is unfair competition to knock the other person´s. I know that this sounds strange to twentieth century American consumers, who are bombarded by telemarketing, incessant advertising and a terrible amount of negative competition, but Jews and their Torah understanding of life were always bidden to swim upstream against the current. I think that the prohibition about "encroaching on the border" affects many areas of life. Following this precept guarantees the sanctity of privacy, the holiness of confidentiality and the civility necessary for a fair, civil and trustworthy marketplace.

There is unfair competition in families and in institutions for time and attention, for wealth and opportunity, even for love and caring. In fact, it is probably within the family circle, at the very beginnings of life itself, that the seeds of destructive competition are planted. A wise parent is aware of the dangers of pitting sibling against sibling, of unfair comparisons of abilities and attainments. It is the individual, unique human being that counts, and though competition in life is unavoidable, the destructive aspects of competition can and should be controlled and minimized.

I. On Rosh Hashanah "the mitzvah of the day is with the shofar".

Our master the Baal Shem Tov has a parable relating to the blowing of the shofar, comparing it to a child crying out: "Father! Father! Save me!" The Rebbe, my father-in-law, related in the name of the earlier Rebbes that one time the following message was sent out to the congregation in the synagogue: There are two aspects to the parable:

• the cry itself, and

• the contents of the cry.

The principal idea is not so much the words: "Father! Father! Save me!" but the cry itself! This means the following:

In terms of content, not everyone is alike. The very reality of crying out, however, applies to every Jew. Every Jew cries out with an internal voice that may or may not be heard externally, but in every case the crying out comes from the depth of the soul. This is the meaning of the teki´ot (blowings of the shofar) and this is what is accepted favorably Above.

There is a parable credited to the saintly R. Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev of a child who desired an apple but was refused one by his father. The child quickly recited a blessing, thus compelling the father to give him the apple. This parable speaks of a case where the father did not wish to grant the child´s request; how much stronger would be the case where the father does want to give, and withholds only temporarily to test the child´s intelligence. So it is with our Creator and the Jewish nation. There is an expression that "more than the calf wishes to suck does the cow desire to be suckled." The same principle applies to Above, as it is said: "You have a desire to the work of Your hands," i.e., that the Almighty wishes that we serve Him. The Almighty desires to give.

The Jewish people recite the blessing "Blessed are You, G-d, who hears the sound of the teru´ah (blowing of the shofar) of His people Israel IN MERCY". The law stipulates that in case of doubt one does not recite a blessing. If, therefore, the Men of the Great Assembly ruled that we must recite the above-cited blessing, this is effectively also a ruling that the Almighty does accept with mercy Israel´s blowing of the shofar - i.e., the cry of Israel, expressed by that blowing.

By virtue of the fact that the Almighty accepts "the teru´ah of His people Israel in mercy" there is an emanation to all of Israel, to each and every man and woman, of all they need spiritually as well as materially in terms of "children, life and sustenance". All this is included in the expression "a good and sweet year", and it emerges in physical reality on our mundane level, "below ten handbreadths", in manifest and empirical goodness.

II. The Rebbe, my father-in-law, was very fond of summaries. The synopsis and essential core of the full forty-eight hours of Rosh Hashanah can be summarized in two points:

• a "point below" and
• a "point Above":

The "point below" is a Jew´s submission to G-d with ‘kabalat ol’ in the context of the Divine Kingship. The "point Above" is that the Almighty submits, as it were, to the Jewish people and says, "I shall give you rains in their season" with all the blessings mentioned in that section.

On the verse; "Seek G-d when He is to be found", our Sages comment: "These are the ten days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur."

The wording of our Sages´ statement is problematic. On the one hand, the expression "the ten days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur" seems to imply that Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur are not included in these days. Nevertheless, the expression "These are the ten days..." indicates that Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur are indeed included in the count, for there are only seven days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. This compels us to understand that there are two elements to the observance of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur:

• an essential quality which transcends the service of teshuvah, and
• the service of teshuvah which characterizes all ten days.

First, our Divine service must center on the essential aspect of Rosh HaShanah. Afterwards comes the aspect associated with teshuvah. Thus, there are ten days of teshuvah between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, for the aspect of teshuvah associated with Rosh HaShanah comes after the essential aspect of Rosh HaShanah.

Teshuvah transcends all other mitzvos. It can thus atone for all blemishes in the observance of mitzvos, for it reaches a deeper point in the soul than is reached by the other mitzvos. And, as mentioned above, since the essential aspect comes before the service of teshuvah, it follows that this aspect of Rosh HaShanah transcends even teshuvah.
So what is the essential aspect of Rosh HaShanah? The coronation of G-d as King. Thus our Sages quote G-d as asking: "Say before Me verses reflecting My Kingship to make Me King over you." Until we have accepted G-d as King, serving Him through the observance of mitzvos is not relevant. And so our Sages quote G-d as saying: "Accept My Kingship, and afterwards accept My decrees." Therefore, teshuvah, which serves to atone for failures in fulfilling the King´s decrees, is relevant only after His Kingship is accepted. Our acceptance of G-d as King relates to His essence which is on a level above all revelations. The observance of the mitzvos relates to G-d´s will as it has come into revelation, for all the mitzvos are expressions of His will.

Teshuvah, which atones for transgressions of His will, relates to a higher level of G-dliness, but one which still shares a connection to His will. A level which totally transcends G-d´s will must also transcend the service which repents for transgressions of that will. Thus teshuvah still relates to revealed levels of G-dliness. The acceptance of G-d as King, however, relates to G-d´s essence, which transcends all revelations.

From this, we can appreciate the uniqueness of the souls of the Jewish people - that they can affect G-d´s very essence and evoke in Him a desire to be King. To be able to affect G-d´s essence, however, it is necessary to express the inner bittul (self nullification) that lies at the center of every Jewish soul. This is expressed in our request of G-d: "Reign over the entire world in Your glory."

Names employed by the Torah are chosen because they describe the true nature of the things to which they refer, expressing their very life force. This also applies to Rosh HaShanah, which literally means "head of the year." The head has several unique aspects:

• The head is the most elevated and sophisticated of all the body´s limbs,
• The head includes the life-energy for all the limbs of the body within it, and
• The head directs the functioning of all the limbs.

Parallels to all three qualities apply with regard to Rosh HaShanah:

• The Divine service which characterizes Rosh HaShanah - the crowning of G-d as King - affects G-d´s essence, a level which is above the Divine service carried out throughout the year;
• Rosh HaShanah is also a day of teshuvah.which relates to the mitzvos but stands above them - indeed, it can be said to include them; and

• The good resolutions made on Rosh HaShanah influence and direct one´s observance of mitzvos in the year to come, as the head directs the limbs of the body.

With regard to Rosh HaShanah, it is said: "The mitzva of the day involves the shofar." Based on the above explanations, it follows that all three factors mentioned above - the coronation of G-d, teshuvah, and the observance of the mitzvos - are reflected in the sounding of the shofar. And, as is true with regard to all matters of P´nimiyus HaTorah, this concept is also alluded to in Nigleh, the revealed dimension of Torah law.

In ‘Hilchos Teshuvah’ the Rambam writes: "Although the sounding of the shofar on Rosh HaShanah is a decree from the Torah, it also contains an allusion. [It is as if the shofar is saying:] "Awake.... Turn to G-d in teshuvah." A question arises: Why does the Rambam state this concept in ‘Hilchos Teshuvah’ rather than in ‘Hilchos Shofar’? Although the Rambam is speaking about teshuvah, since he is explaining the motivating principle for the mitzvah of shofar, seemingly, it would have been more appropriate to include it in ‘Hilchos Shofar’. To cite a parallel: The Rambam concludes his ‘Hilchos Mikvaos’ with an explanation of the motivating principle for immersion in a mikveh: "These are decrees of the Torah.... Nevertheless, there is an allusion to the concept... to purify one’s soul from its impurity and base character traits.... by immersion in the waters of pure knowledge."

This concept, though related to the Divine service of teshuvah, is stated in ´Hilchos Mikvaos´ and not in ´Hilchos Teshuvah´ because it describes the rationale for immersion in the mikveh. Why then is the rationale for sounding the shofar not explained in ´Hilchos Shofar´?

The Rambam’s statements also provoke another question. The Talmud states: "Say before Me... verses reflecting My Kingship to make Me King over you. By what means? Via the shofar." The shofar is thus the medium that brings about the coronation of G-d.

Why does the Rambam not mention this allusion? The answer to these questions requires that we understand the three elements involved in the sounding of the shofar:

• The mitzvah of sounding the shofar, as expressed in all the particular laws which apply to it. The Rambam considers this as one of the 613 mitzvos, and mentions these laws in ‘Hilchos Shofar’;
• The concept of teshuvah. This is alluded to by the sounding of the shofar. Teshuvah reflects a rung above the observance of mitzvos. To point to this quality, the Rambam mentions this concept in ‘Hilchos Teshuvah’, and not in ‘Hilchos Shofar’ which contains a description of the laws of sounding the shofar. It does not mention teshuvah, for this dimension transcends the mitzvos and is only alluded to by the shofar. This is reflected in the wording used by the Rambam: "Although the sounding of the shofar on Rosh HaShanah is a decree from the Torah." In other words, although it is fundamentally a mitzvah it also contains an allusion, i.e., it refers to the tshuvah which transcends the mitzvos;

• The aspect of sounding the shofar which brings about G-d s coronation. This aspect transcends the mitzvah of sounding the shofar entirely, and cannot be communicated even by an allusion. For the allusion reflect a thrust toward revelation, while the coronation of G-d, by contrast, brings forth the bittul that lies at the foundation of the soul [which is entirely above revelation].

Based on the above, we can appreciate the connection between the sounding of the shofar and the verse: "He chooses our heritage for us ", which is recited before the sounding of the shofar. In an ultimate sense, free choice involves choosing without regard to any factor or consideration other than the initiative of the one who chooses. When a person´s choice is motivated by a reason, it is as if that reason forced him to choose; this cannot be considered free choice. How then can G-d´s "choos[ing of] our heritage for us" be associated with the sounding of the shofar? If His choice is dependent on the sounding of the shofar, how can it be considered free? These questions can be answered by referring to the above concepts. The two aspects of sounding the shofar associated with the performance of the mitzvah and the Divine service of teshuvah do not relate to G-d´s essence. Instead, they draw down merely the revealed aspects of G-dliness - an arousal from above that is dependent on an arousal from below. The bittul of the soul´s essence, which is expressed by the coronation of G-d through the sounding of the shofar, relates to G-d´s essence, tapping into that level of the soul on which Jews are one with G-d. And at that level, G-d chooses the Jews freely; the sounding of the shofar is not what causes Him to choose.

G-d´s essence knows no bounds. Since the influence drawn down by the sounding of the shofar on Rosh HaShanah is rooted in G-d´s essence, this influence is not restricted by any limitations of the spiritual cosmos. The influence is drawn down precisely as He desires it to be. And what He desires is certainly good, as it is written: "In the countenance of the King, there is life." Penai, translated here as "countenance", also means "inner dimension". Thus any desire emanating from G-d´s inner dimension will surely be associated with life and goodness.

This will be revealed on the material plane, for G-d´s essence is connected to our material reality. And so it is that every Jew will be inscribed for a good and sweet year, filled with open and apparent blessings.

Many commentators have pondered the unusual juxtaposition of this Shabbat´s two Torah portions: Nitzavim (which means "to stand") and Vayelech (which means "to go"). How can one both stop and go at the same time?

Here is one theory: we are a dynamic, mobile, active society. We are always on the go, always on the move! We hurry to and fro, jog on treadmills, jump into our cars, pedal our bikes, catch planes. We almost never just STOP to do an accounting of our lives, and think about where we have been and what direction we’re taking for the long term. We´re usually so busy thinking about where we have to be NEXT, that we rarely focus on where we are NOW. Yet that is precisely what Hashem wants us to do: stand still, physically and mentally, even spiritually. Take stock, try to make some sense out of the crazy-quilt of our lives, try to bring order to the chaos that all too often engulfs us.

Most of all, we have to come to the realization that WE hold the key to Teshuva (repentance). We could renew ourselves & rebuild the world one day and one Jew at a time - if only we could recognize the problems we face and the power we have to correct them. Judaism, I have always believed, moves by revolution and not by evolution. As Avraham, Moshe, the Chofetz Chaim, Herzl and so many others understood, one person can change the world, if he or she dares to try.

It takes real courage to do Teshuva: to admit that you are wrong about certain ideas or actions, and then literally force yourself to change; to give the other person the benefit of the doubt, or the right of way; to respect the Chasid, or the Soldier, or the secular Jew, even if he pursues a lifestyle different from your own; to show courtesy in line, and in traffic; to be honest in business; to be gracious in defeat; to say, "I love you" to your spouse and to your kids (especially when you don’t want to!); to honor your in-laws; to get up for prayers; to open a Sefer and learn.

There comes a time when we have to take a stand. That time is here, and now, Rosh Hashana 5763. Who knows what trials and tribulations await us personally and collectively in the year ahead, and how crucial each and every action we take will be in determining our own fate and that of all of Klal Yisrael.

Nitzavim: stop, think, take a stand. Followed by Vayelech: go with it, move forward, full speed ahead to the Geula Shlema, Bimhayra B´yamenu. (Full Redemption, make it come speedily in our Days).

During the month of Elul, with the High Holidays fast approaching, our focus turns to the topic of teshuvah - repentance. Sometimes, though, there are emotional and psychological impediments that can hinder or even prevent us from doing teshuvah, as the following anecdote illustrates:

A Rabbi once traveled to a distant town to speak on the subject of teshuva to the locals. He wanted to get across the point that we all will be called to task in heaven for our actions on this world. He warned, "Everyone in this community is eventually going to die. Therefore you must do teshuva before it is too late."

As his point was taken, he noticed that everyone in the room became somber except one man who was grinning. The Rabbi wondered why this man wasn´t getting into the proper mood. He decided he should make the point stronger. "My good townsfolk, you must remember that sooner than you think, you are going to die. At that time you will be called to judgment in the heavenly court. All your sins will be revealed and discussed. It can be a horrific experience. Repent now." As the Rabbi looked around the room he saw people squirming uneasily and looking distressed. But, to the Rabbi´s chagrin, he saw that the man who had been grinning was now chuckling.

The Rabbi realized that he was now going to have to pull out all the stops. "Members of this noble community, you must realize that your lives on this earth are only temporary - as fleeting as the shadow of a passing bird. Soon will come the frightening Day of Judgment. You will be brought before the heavenly tribunal whose judges you cannot bribe or deceive. All your innermost secrets will be presented and scrutinized by the court. Your feeble excuses will not work there like they do here. The judgment will be exacting. Your only chance is to repent now before it is too late."

At this point, everyone in the audience was turning white and trembling with fear. Everyone appeared as though they were about to faint, excepting the one man who by now was laughing out loud.

The Rabbi couldn´t control himself and he asked the man why he was reacting this way. The man replied, "Because I am not a member of this community."

We often think that the call to teshuvah and to action is directed at everyone else, not at ourselves. We often feel that communal needs are someone else´s responsibility, not ours. We need to free ourselves of this thinking, and then collectively accomplish more than we ever imagined possible. The whole of Am Yisrael is so much greater than the sum of its parts.

A shnorer (a professional Jewish fund-raiser) rings the bell of a banker´s home at 6 a.m., claiming it is an emergency. The banker hurries to the door to find the shnorer asking for a donation.

"How dare you wake me up at this time!" yelled the banker.

The shnorer responds: "Mr. Banker, listen to me. I don´t tell you when to begin working in the morning, so please don´t tell me when I am to begin working in the morning."

Most of us routinely experience two types of days: good ones and disappointing ones. The good days are filled with confidence, clarity and purpose. On such days we approach our struggles with an elevated attitude and view every challenge as an opportunity for growth.

On other days, however, we are overtaken by insecurity, doubt and a sense of emptiness. We don´t feel content with our place in the world and lack the motivation to make a difference.

What is it that bestows upon one day a magical beauty, while another day -- identical more or less in its schedule and events -- is meaningless and depressing?

The Kabbalah attributes our fluctuating moods to the fact that we each possess two contrasting forces within our consciousness: one is selfish, insecure and confused; the other is full of light, clarity and idealism. In the writings of Chassidism these two polar forces are defined as the ego vs. the soul, or the beastly consciousness vs. the transcendent spirit.

Yet while the sense of ego and the beastly identity come naturally to us, our G-dliness lies deep within our psyche and some tilling is required to bring it to the fore of our consciousness. Show me a day that you are in touch with your higher self, and I will show you a fulfilling day.

But here again, one wonders why it is that on some days we manage to connect with our soul, while on others we remain tied down by our beast, burdened by our own mediocrity? What is the secret recipe to a day filled with depth and meaning?

One of the interesting Torah laws pertaining to Jewish farmers and read in the synagogue on this Sabbath in the weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah, is known as the law of the "first fruits," or in Hebrew, the mitzvah of Bikkurim.

After the Jewish people settled the land of Israel, farmers had an obligation to bring to the Holy Temple (Beit Hamikdash) in Jerusalem a basket of the first ripened fruits of their fields. In a ritual that included a moving declaration of gratitude to G-d, the Source of life and sustenance, the farmer would present the fresh fruits as a gift to the Kohanim (the Priests) serving in the Temple.

Though this mitzvah in its literal form cannot be performed today since it requires a standing Temple in Jerusalem, its spiritual message contains timeless applications.

Indeed, the Midrash relates that since Moses realized that the Temple ultimately would be destroyed and the Jewish people would cease observing the Bikkurim ritual, he instituted in its stead the three daily prayers of the Jew: Shachris (morning prayers), Mincha (afternoon prayers) and Maariv (night prayers).

Yet what is the connection between the "first fruit" ritual and the daily prayers? How do our daily prayers substitute for the bringing of first fruits to the Temple?

It´s all in the beginning

The Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic school of thought, says that our depressing days often can be attributed to the way we begin them. If we commence our day by accessing our higher self, our Divine soul, then the remainder of the day will be inspired and animated by the vision, the clarity and the serenity of this spiritual light within us.

However, if we initially allow our external beastly consciousness to take the reigns in its hands as we open our eyes rise from our beds, then the remainder of the day will usually be controlled by the whims, insecurities and fears of the lower self abiding in our hearts. Once this self is in control, it is much harder for the spiritual soul to reclaim sovereignty over our attitude and behavior during that day.

Let me offer a simple example to illustrate this idea of the Baal Shem Tov from a field I am familiar with in my own life.

It is far easier for a speaker to captivate an audience at the onset of his presentation than to capture its attention at a later point in the speech. When a speaker stands to talk, the audience lends him its heart for a few brief moments. If he presents himself as a genuine person, the listeners will gladly allow themselves to soar on his wings; if he projects himself as a bore, their minds will automatically wander elsewhere.

The same is true when we awaken each morning to begin our daily "presentation." If at the onset of the day, the spiritual soul takes full control and captivates its "audience" - the human psyche, body and environment - the platform will belong to it throughout the entire day and throughout the entire "speech."

Yet if the soul fails to assert itself in the beginning and does not "capture" the full attention of its audience, it naturally will be replaced by the more external and assertive beastly consciousness of man. Later in the day, it is far more difficult, though not impossible, for our G-dly light to assume its position as the guide for our lives.

Many of us experience this truth continuously. If, upon awakening, we first eat a piece of cheesecake and run to check our e-mail, we allow our basic physical instincts to gain primacy in our lives. As the day lingers on we may find ourselves shallow, empty and insecure.

On the other hand, if one wakes up and, contrary to his animal instinct spends an hour in meditation, study and prayer, he can then turn even the most difficult encounter during the day into a positive and growing experience. This is because he first aligned himself with the space in his identity that is secure, genuine and idealistic.

Like the shnorer at the home of the banker, our soul, too, must begin its work the first thing in the morning.

Surrendering the first

In light of the above we can understand the contemporary relevance behind the mitzvah of Bikkurim, of bringing some of our first ripened fruits to the Jerusalem Temple. The essential meaning behind the mitzvah of Bikkurim is that the first of everything must be dedicated to that which is at the essence and core of our identity: G-d. That includes first fruits, the first hour of the day and the first earnings. When we connect the first of everything with the spiritual core of existence, everything that follows will be experienced in a most beautiful and profound way.

This is why the three daily prayers serve as a substitute for Bikkurim. The idea behind these prayers is that at every new crossroads we encounter during our day - morning, afternoon and evening - we begin by aligning ourselves with our spiritual and G-dly identity.

Brain of the year

Just as every day has a beginning, every year, too, has a beginning, and our behavior during that beginning can determine the nature of our life for the coming year.

This is essentially the profound power contained in the two days of Rosh Hashanah, which literally means "the brain of the year." Just as a brain defines the nature and movement of the entire body, so, too, the 48 hours of Rosh Hashanah have an incredible impact on each of the hundreds of days, thousands of hours and millions of seconds of the year.

During the two days of Rosh Hashanah you can literally reprogram your life.

Try it out!