If each of the Jewish holidays has a "mirror image" - a Chag that parallels the other - then Rosh Hashana and Pesach would seem to go together. Rosh HaShana inaugurates our year, while Pesach (half a year later) is technically the first chag of the year. Rosh HaShana deals with Creation; Pesach with Liberation. "L´Shana Haba´a B´Yerushalayim" is recited on Pesach and also after the AseretY´mai Tshuva.

But there is a major difference between the two holidays: On Pesach, we refrain from eating matza not only on Erev Chag, but already from Rosh Chodesh Nisan, in order to build up anticipation for the matza. For Rosh Hashana, however, we have a totally different approach. During the entire month leading up to it, we work on our midot, increase our prayers and our kavana, ask for the forgiveness we will seek when Tishrei actually begins.

Shofar? It may be a mitzva to hear on Rosh HaShana, but we´ve been hearing the Tekiot for 30 days already. Selichot? Nothing new for us; we´ve been saying them for days (or weeks, if one follows Sefardic tradition). Why do we not hold back until Rosh HaShana, as we do on Pesach, and build up anticipation for the Days of Judgement?

Rav Mordechai Kamenetsky quotes the phrase in the Selichot, "Like beggars and paupers we come knocking on Your door, G-d," and then offers a lovely story to explain:

A tzedaka-collector once came to a wealthy section of town and knocked on the door of a stately home. A woman opened the door, gave a disapproving frown to the Meshulach, and snarled, "What do you want?"

The collector explained his noble cause and need for help, but the lady of the house was unimpressed. "I don´t know you from Adam," she said, "and I don´t give to anyone I don´t know." With that, she slammed the door.

Nonplused, the collector slowly walked around the block a couple of times, returned to the same house and again rang the bell. "What are you doing back here?!" yelled the incredulous lady, "I just told you I only give to those whom I know!"

"But we DO know each other," smiled the persistent meshulach, "we had a nice chat not more than 15 minutes ago!"

It´s so much easier to be kind and giving to those whom we know and recognize. So rather than do a "cold call" on G-d, we get to "know" Him well before Rosh Hashana. But the real lesson is: Don´t be a stranger to G-d and pop in once a year. Show up at G-d´s house every day, and He will welcome you warmly and generously. As we say in "L´David," recited daily during this season, "One thing I ask of G-d: Let me dwell in His House all the days of my life."

May we all be welcome guests in the Palace of the King.

The song of Ha´azinu poetically depicts what will happen to the Jewish people until the end of days. It foretells their punishment for transgressing the covenant with G-d, and describes how, ultimately, G-d will punish those who wronged them in exile.

"May G-d grant that everyone be aroused in true teshuvah, and that everyone´s inscription [in the Book of Life] be sealed and confirmed for a good and sweet year, materially and spiritually. May it be G-d´s will that everyone´s provisions, both spiritual and material, be called forth unconcealed and unobscured, in the kind of good that is visible and manifest."

Ha’azinu
There are ten shiros, or prophetic songs, of which Ha´azinu is the fourth:

1. Adam recited the first shira in Gan Eden. He composed "Mizmor shir leyom haShabbat / A song, a poem for the Sabbath day," in which he praised the greatness of Shabbat.

2. At the shores of the Red Sea, Moshe and Bnai Yisrael sang a shira for their miraculous deliverance from Pharaoh´s army.

3. Bnai Yisrael chanted a song in praise of the Well of Miriam (parshat Chukas).

4. Moshe taught the people the song of Ha´azinu on the day of his passing.

5. When Yehoshua fought the Emorites in Givon and the sun miraculously stopped its course for the sake of the conquering Jewish army, Yehoshua sang shira.

6. Devora and Barak composed a shira when G-d delivered their enemies into their hands, including the Canaanite general Sisra (Shoftim 5).

7. When Chana gave birth to Shmuel, after having been childless for many years, she praised G-d with a prophetic song (Shmuel 2).

8. King David, at the end of his life, composed a shira of thanks to G-d for saving him from all his enemies (Shmuel 22).

9. King Shlomo wrote Shir Hashirim.

10. The tenth and greatest song will be sung by the Jewish people when G-d redeems them from the present exile.

While the first nine songs are called shira, in the feminine gender, the tenth one is termed shir (masculine gender), as it says, "On that day shall this shir be sung in the land of Yehuda" (Yeshayahu 26:1).

After the redemptions that occasioned the first nine songs new hardships invariably followed. Each redemption is therefore likened to the plight of a woman who undergoes the pains of pregnancy, labor, and birth, only to be followed by the selfsame discomfort of another pregnancy.

The tenth song, though, will mark the end of all exiles; it will not be followed by any suffering or hardship.

by Hagaon Harav Shaul Yisraeli

"All citizens in Israel shall sit in the sukkot in order that your generations shall know..." (Devarim 23: 42-43). Sitting in the sukka and understanding its significance serves as a certificate of citizenship in Israel. However, the lessons that apply from the sukka change according to the generation.

One opinion describes the historical sukkot as actual booths, while another refers to "clouds of glory". There are times when one aspect needs to be stressed and times when the other is more relevant. When the Jewish people were sent into exile and their existence was one of a temporary, shaky dwelling, there was less need to stress that element of the sukka. Rather, the more powerful message was of Divine clouds that miraculously protected the Jewish people during its sojourns in the wilderness and the various exiles. Even during the time of the most horrible decrees, the Divine protection guarded at least "one from a city and two from a family" and returned them to Zion, as our own eyes have seen.

Let us examine parallels between our situation and that of the generation that left Egypt. There are among us those who ask if it wouldn´t be better to sit on "the pot of meat" [Shemot 16:3- a reference to the plenty of Egypt]. This feeling exists despite the bitter experience of the true price of apparently free melons [see Bamidbar 11:6] that we did not need to plant in Egypt, the land of plenty and other foreign lands. Having finally made it to Eretz Yisrael and encountering, not respite, but encampments, temporary dwellings, unusual eating, and a new Jewish administration, we need to remember the sukka´s second message.

The sukka also recalls the physical sukkot of the time of Exodus. Bnei Yisrael of that generation did not leave Egypt and enter Eretz Yisrael without hardship or trials. Only after dwelling in booths, after entering Eretz Yisrael and working hard to conquer and split up the Land, did Bnei Yisrael merit to receive the good and broad Land, "And plant us in our borders." Eretz Yisrael cannot be like another land of immigration, where people decide to stay only if they find favorable living conditions. Here we have to plant our roots. Although it isn´t easy, we will succeed with stubborn dedication.

When we succeed in becoming acclimatized in our land and build permanent houses, there is a need to stress the theme of the temporary dwelling. We must realize that however protective our homes are from the elements, physical housing is temporary and misleading. G-d is our true protection. Even or especially in our own home of Eretz Yisrael, we flourish because of a constant Divine Providence that abounds here (see Devarim 11:12). We will build and plant and become implanted ourselves, but we will do so with an awareness and appreciation of G-d´s Providence and Hand.

This year, as we read Megillat Kohelet on the first day of Sukkot, we can again ask ourselves: why is this megilla appropriate specifically for Sukkot, the festival where we are explicitly mandated to be happy (Devarim 16:14)? Kohelet is a sefer that appears to have a pessimistic outlook on almost every subject under the sun. Let us review just a few areas that Kohelet deems as worthless.

What is the gain for man with all of the toil that he toils under the sun?" (1:3). "That which was will be, and there is nothing new under the sun" (1:9). Not only in matters of man´s work and livelihood is there disappointment, but also in what we call the liberal arts. "I said to myself, that which occurs to the fool, will happen to me as well, and so why did I make myself smarter then they, and I said to myself that that too is futile" (2:15). Shlomo is not more optimistic about the public realm than the private one. His social picture is as follows: "I returned and saw all of the oppressions that are done under the sun, and behold the tears of the oppressed and there is no one to console them..." (4:1).

The judicial system does not get off lightly either: "I also saw under the sun, the place of the judgment, there is the evil, and the place of justice, there is the evil" (3:16). The possibility that there is optimism at least about the future is dashed as well. "I hated all the toil that I toil under the sun, that I should leave it for a person who shall be after me, and who knows if he will be wise or foolish, and he will take control of all the toil which I toiled and I was wise under the sun" (2:18-19). With so little hope, Shlomo comes to the horrible conclusion that he despises life ... under the sun (2:17).

Apparently the solution has to do with the term, "under the sun." Indeed, R. Yodan says that over the sun there is gain, and R. Chuna says that one toils under the sun and accumulates above the sun (Pesikta D´rav Kahane 8). But the question still remains, what optimistic approach are we to learn from Kohelet in reference to our lives under the sun? And certainly, why are we to stress this theme on Sukkot?

Let us propose a solution to both issues. Sitting in a sukka is to take refuge in the shade of Hashem, cav´yachol (what the kabbalists call, tzila d´m´himnuta). The halacha defines the sukka that "the shade is greater than the sun [that penetrates]." "It is better to take refuge in Hashem..." (Tehillim 118:9). It turns out that two walls and part of a third are more protective than an imposing fortress. Megillat Kohelet gives us the appropriate warning: do not look for solutions under the sun, where you are likely to be disappointed. Go to a sukka, where the sechach covers most of the sunlight. There, under the Divine clouds, there is gain.

Both of the holidays of Pesach and Succot are weeklong festivals. In the Land of Israel they are seven days in length while in the Diaspora they are eight days in long. In Israel, the first day and seventh days of Pesach are full holidays, while in the Diaspora the first, second, seventh and eighth days of Pesach are full holidays. For Succot, in Israel, the first day is a full holiday and in the Diaspora, the first two days are full holidays. The balance of the days of these holidays is called Chol Hamoed - the intermediate, less holy days of the holiday. This extremely sophisticated concept of days that are holidays but not completely so, is a unique Jewish creation. Unlike the actual full holy days of the holidays, these intermediate days do not carry with them the entire gamut of restrictions on work. In fact, any work that is necessary for comfort or to prevent monetary loss is permissible.

However, the intermediate days are not to be treated as ordinary workdays. Unnecessary work, work that is easily postponed till after the holidays, lawsuits and other contentious matters, etc. are all not to be pursued during Chol Hamoed. Therefore, in Israel and in many parts of the Diaspora, Chol Hamoed is a vacation and leisure time. Stores and offices are closed and entire families participate in touring, visiting friends and relatives and attending concerts and other forms of entertainment. On Chol Hamoed, holiday clothing and finery is worn and festive meals are served. It is a joyous and sweet time of the year for all concerned, especially for the children who are free of school and their routines for the week.

Chol Hamoed is a practical example of the Jewish ability to transform the everyday into the special and the mundane into holy. We can all understand the concept of Sabbath and holidays and the fact that work is somehow inconsistent with the spirit and message of those days. But Chol Hamoed affords us an opportunity to work and not work, celebrate and yet not divorce ourselves from the occurrences and tasks of everyday life. There is a ritual and rhythm to Chol Hamoed that governs this remarkable time. It is a time for family and friends, for study and reading, for relaxation and refreshment. But it is not summer vacation or midwinter break. It has holiness, ritual, and halacha attached to it. That it is what gives Chol Hamoed its special resonance and feeling in the Jewish world.

Part of the custom of Chol Hamoed is to pay one´s respects to the great rabbis and scholars of Israel. In Israel, and in the Diaspora as well, the great rabbis, the Chassidic leaders, and the heads of the yeshivot all hold open house and court during Chol Hamoed. There are Jews who travel from all corners of the world to visit their spiritual leaders and pay their homage to the Torah and its scholars. In Jerusalem, there is a special "Blessing by the Kohanim" (priests descended from the family of Aaron) ceremony conducted at the plaza of the Western Wall. Hundreds of priests gather there to bless the tens of thousands of Jews who gather at the Wall to receive their heavenly blessing on Chol Hamoed.

During Chol Hamoed of Succot, there are parties held every night to celebrate the "drawing of the water" service that took place in the Temple in Jerusalem. The Talmud describes how in Temple times this ceremony was celebrated with song, dance, torches and bonfires, jugglers and performers. The "drawing of the water" from the spring of Gichon south of Jerusalem and its libation on the altar of the Temple symbolically marked the beginning of the rainy season in Israel and the prayers for a bountiful rainfall during the winter months. Though the Temple and its altar are not now present, the celebrations of Chol Hamoed Succot have survived and prospered. Throughout Jerusalem´s many neighborhoods, the parties and celebrations take place. The Talmud stated that ´sleep did not find our eyes´ at these festive Chol Hamoed nights. That still is pretty much the case for the young today during these Chol Hamoed celebrations.

Mazal-Yehudit Naimi was thirteen years old when an attack outside the city of Immanuel this summer critically injured her, teetering on the brink of death. The prayers of her family and the community enclosed her in an envelope of love and hope as she remained deep in a coma. Every minute seemed like an eternity.

Last week those prayers bore fruit and Mazal began to stir in her hospital bed. Within hours loving friends and relatives surrounded her. When Mazal finally opened her eyes, joy and relief burst forth in a wave of tears, song and laughter. The stunned doctors shared in these emotional moments but cautioned the family that the road ahead was still difficult and dangerous.

Within a day Mazal began demanding that she be allowed to attend the wedding of her brother, planned for that weekend in Jerusalem. The doctors cautioned in the strongest of terms that driving her to Jerusalem would endanger her recovery. Mazal and her family understood the difficulties, and though fully appreciating the scope of the miracles they had already witnessed, were nonetheless broken hearted.

Yehudah Meshi-Zahav, the leader of the Jerusalem branch of Zakah, was deeply moved as he sat near Mazal´s bed and heard her heartrending cries. Zakah is an organization made up of Ultra Orthodox Yeshiva students who have become a commonplace sight at the scene of each terrorist incident, men in yellow vests crawling through charred wreckage looking for human remains. These men make themselves available 24/7 in order to ensure that every victim, dead or alive, is treated with respect and honor. Long after the wounded are taken from the scene, Zaka’s staff continues to remain involved with the victims and their families.

It was in that context that Yehudah Meshi Zahav was sitting in Mazal´s hospital room. He immediately contacted many people in the community and raised money to rent a satellite dish and monitor. The Israeli phone company offered free satellite time, local merchants brought drinks and refreshments and organization volunteers filled the hospital corridors on the night of the wedding.

As Mazal lay in her bed she watched a giant screen and participated at the wedding Huppah. Her brother and his new bride spoke to her and asked for her blessings. Subsequently, family members blessed Mazal by satellite and received her blessings in return. Tears filled the eyes of every individual at both locations. The ‘guests’ in the hospital corridors then burst into songs of rejoicing as they danced together with the bride and groom in Jerusalem This virtual wedding was far from being virtual. An act of loving kindness had made virtual reality into reality.

Today, the third day of the Hebrew month of Tishrei, is known as the Fast of Gedaliah - a day of fasting and reflection for Jews around the world. Gedaliah ben Achikam was appointed some 2,500 years ago by the Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar to serve as Jewish governor in Israel. This occurred following the exile of most of the Jewish population and the destruction of the First Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Gedaliah was soon murdered, however, by a fellow Jew, thus putting an end to the Jewish entity in the Holy Land for the next 70 years.

There are two major "songs" - lengthy poetic compositions - in the Torah: The Song At The Sea (Exodus 15:1-22) and today’s portion known as Ha-azinu - the Song of Moses.

They are very different compositions.

The Song At The Sea is a magnificent hymn of praise and thanksgiving to God for the salvation that Israel experienced when crossing through the Sea of Reeds. Ha-azinu, on the other hand, is couched in terms of prophecy, predicting that Israel’s rebellion against God will result in their punishment but also in vengeance against Israel’s enemies.

The Song At The Sea was a demonstration of Israel’s complete faith in God, the very peak of belief. Ha-azinu is the exact opposite - an accusation that regardless of God’s kindnesses, Israel had rebelled. "He [God] found him [Israel] in a desert region... He set him atop the highlands, to feast on the yield of the earth... So Jeshurun grew fat and kicked... He forsook the God who made him..." (Deuteronomy 32:10-15).

The contrast between the two can be seen in the fact that in the Sephardic liturgy on Tisha B’Av Ha-azinu is read in the service instead of the Song At The Sea.

Over and over again, Israel is told that God has treated it with great kindness, caring for the nation and giving it all the good things of the earth. Nevertheless Israel has proven unfaithful and disloyal to God.

The purpose of these words is the same as that of all prophecies of doom: a warning intended to persuade Israel to observe God’s ways so it would not have to suffer such punishment.

"Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this teaching" (Deuteronomy 32:46).

Since these words are ascribed to Moses just before his death, when the people are about to enter the land of Canaan where they will be exposed for the first time to the religious practices of the people of that land, it is to be expected that he will warn them about idol worship: "They incensed Me with no-gods..." (Deuteronomy 32:21). The result of this neglect of God and the worship of other gods - forbidden in the first section of the words of the covenant in the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-6) - is that God will spurn them and permit other nations to prevail against them.

Since the Book of Deuteronomy itself was discovered and accepted as God’s word during the reign of King Josiah, not long before the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE, this prophecy, this message - which may have been formulated long before - would have been very meaningful and probably prompted the religious reformation that took place under Josiah and which is reflected in the writings of Jeremiah. Josiah and Jeremiah both attempted to ward off the predicted catastrophe by bringing about a situation in which Israel would once again be true and faithful to God. Tragically, they did not succeed and the Temple was destroyed, Jerusalem razed and the people sent into exile. In that exile, however, their hopes were buoyed by the fact that this song ends with words of hope, words predicting that God would "avenge the blood of His servants, wreak vengeance on His foes and wipe away His people’s tears" (Deuteronomy 32:43).

In a sense, this poem became the accepted theological explanation for the destruction of the First and Second Temples and the source of hope for future redemption, a hope that in the case of the First Temple was realized after 70 years, but in the case of the Second Temple took close to 1,900 years to be actualized. The core of this teaching was that the enemies of Israel did not succeed because of their strength or because their "gods" were powerful, but because God used them as a means of punishing Israel for its disloyalty.

These enemies, however, may think that "our own hand has prevailed; none of this was wrought by the Lord" (Deuteronomy 32:27). Furthermore, they are themselves cruel and immoral - "The vine for them is from Sodom, from the vineyards of Gomorrah" (Deuteronomy 32:32). Therefore they will be punished and His people Israel will be redeemed. In the words of Abraham Joshua Heschel in his monumental work, The Prophets: "Assyria with all her might and triumph was but a tool in the hand of God for carrying out His work against sinful nations. But in her ruthlessness and arrogance she perpetrated dreadful crimes instead of manifesting justice... Assyria’s power was a phantom."

This was extremely important after the year 70 CE, when the Romans were boasting of their triumph and the early Christians were saying that the destruction of the Temple proved that God had abandoned Israel and made a new covenant with them. The Jews could point to this song as proof that none of this was so, and that even if they had suffered, they had not been and never would be abandoned. Because of its message, the Sages saw in this song a work that spoke of the past, the present and the future.

What is the real significance of God’s Name - especially as it appears in the Yom Kippur liturgy? When the Temple still stood, the high priest’s role was central to the drama of the Yom Kippur ritual. It was he, garbed in all of the dazzling splendor of his special clothing, who transmitted God’s forgiveness and purification of the Israelite nation.

The liturgical text (Leviticus 16) describes every detail of the Yom Kippur sacrifices; during the repetition of the Mussaf Amida is a step by step replay of the High Priest’s request for Divine forgiveness for himself and his family, for his fellow priests (kohanim) and then for all of Israel: "And thus he would intone: ‘I beg of You (Ana), the Name, (Hashem), I have transgressed, sinned and rebelled before You "I beg of You (Ana), by the Name (bashem) forgive now the transgressions, sins and rebellions " (Yoma 3:8)

The liturgy uses the word ‘Hashem’ to indicate that the High Priest would utter the explicit four-letter name of God, the Tetragrammaton, a name so sacred that it could only be uttered by the High Priest, and only on Yom Kippur, and only in the Holy of Holies.

As is the case with every significant ritual in Judaism, the liturgical text does not merely recount an ancient ceremony, but actually invites us to experience it in the here - and - now. We are there! We become literally transported in space and time to the Temple Mount of the First and Second Commonwealths, and we too fall prostrate with our faces on the ground, when the Cantor describes the Temple Mount scene as the High Priest intoned God’s ineffable Name.

The first word publicly expressed by the High Priest during his rites of expiation and forgiveness is Ana, usually translated as "I beg," a contraction of two Hebrew words (Ani and Na). At the same time Ana comes out as an entreaty. The High Priest stands before us as our representative of the Divine. And he removes his splendorous gold garments, changes into white garb of purity, and utters a cry of inadequacy and failure.

What more profound message could possibly be conveyed to the rest of Israel? If the High Priest is not ashamed to admit that he transgressed, how much more must we, the rank and file of the nation, be willing to admit our own inadequacies.

But the High Priest also makes an interesting switch regarding God’s name. First he confesses, "I beg (Ana) Hashem (the Name) I have transgressed ," and then he requests, "I beg (Ana), Bashem (by means of the Name) forgive " Why does he first address Hashem (the ineffable Name) and then change to Bashem (by means of the Ineffable Name)?

Rav J. B. Soloveitchik, insists that even such a small difference in one letter must be precisely understood. The High Priest is confessing to God (the Ineffable Name), but he is pleading for forgiveness by means of the Ineffable Name. The Tetragrammaton is the method, the secret and mystical pathway by which sinners are forgiven and ultimately purified.

In order to truly understand what this means, let us turn to the Slichot, the penitential prayers of forgiveness preferably recited in the pre-sunrise darkness from the week preceding Rosh Hashana up to and including Yom Kippur: "God! (El) You taught us to recite your 13 traits (names, descriptions). Remember for us this day the covenant of these 13. As you showed it to the meek one (anav, a reference to Moses) from days past, as it’s written in the Torah, ‘God descended into the cloud, and stood with Moses there, and He called out by means of the Ineffable Name (Bashem) Hashem, Hashem, (Exodus 34:6-7)."

Hashem (Yud Heh Vav Heh) is the God of love and compassion, the God of redemption, the God of process and history. It means literally, "He will bring about," it’s a third person future verb, meaning it’s the God of becoming.

The Book of Exodus tells the story of Redemption, and reveals the God of Process and Becoming who loves and accepts - despite the fact that the Israelites of Egypt were mired in the 49th degree of impurity.

The Kotzker Rebbe was once asked by his disciples why, in the hassidic tradition, the term for God generally used is Shechina (literally, Divine Presence), which is a feminine and not a masculine form in its Hebrew syntax. He answered in the form of a parable. When a man comes home from a long day’s work, he will play with his little baby devotedly. But as soon as the baby needs a diaper change, the father calls the mother. She not only diapers the baby, but also kisses the baby while she’s diapering. The mother loves the baby who emerged from her womb (rehem) unconditionally.

Our God is also called Rahum, usually translated as compassionate, but in reality the God of unconditional love for every creature who emerged from Him/Her (Shechina), who is a part of the Divine from on high. God loves us as the mother loves the child who came from her womb; God believes in our capacity to change, and guarantees our ultimate redemption.

God revealed Himself to Moses as Y-H-V-H Y-H-V-H -- twice -- the God of love before we sin and the God of love after we sin. It is by means of this revelation of a God of unconditional love, and redemption that the High Priest, as well as every Jew turns to our Parent-in-Heaven on Yom Kippur, the Day of Forgiveness.

There is tragic irony in the fact that just when Israel to about to reach its goal of possessing its own land, Moses tells them that in the future they will be exiled from it.

There is similar irony in the fact that after declaring this fact, he nevertheless says to them "See, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity" (Deuteronomy 30:15).

This is a reflection of the paradox that Rabbi Akiva was later to voice - "Everything is foreseen, yet freedom of choice is granted" (Pirke Avot 3:19). His words carry very little ambiguity. This will happen - and yet perhaps it will not happen - because they can still choose life. The Torah has difficulty in denying us free choice.

Most important, however, is the fact that along with the prediction of exile comes the promise of redemption.

"When all these things befall you - the blessing and the curse that I have set before you - and you take them to heart amidst the various nations to which the Lord your God has banished you, and you return to the Lord your God, and you and your children heed His command with all your heart and soul, just as I enjoin upon you this day, then the Lord your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where the Lord your God has scattered you (30:1-3)."

Exile will not be the end. Here again we see the power of the new monotheistic idea. In paganism, a defeated, exiled people had no hope. It suffered because its god had been defeated by a more powerful god, and therefore they had to accept their fate and take upon themselves the religion and rites of their conquerors. But Moses taught that there is only one God. If the Jews suffer exile, it would not be because of some other divine force, but because they had defied the God of Israel . And since He is also a loving, caring and forgiving God, they can return from their exile. His power is over all nations, not only over Israel. Never does God state that His people’s actions are unforgivable, and their exile irreversible.

The importance of this concept for the future of Judaism and the Jewish people can hardly be overemphasized. It forms the basis for the teachings of all the prophets - those who lived before the exile and those who flourished during the exile. All of them became prophets of hope because of this belief.

The prophet of the exile known as Isaiah predicted: "The Lord will comfort His people, He will redeem Jerusalem" (Isaiah 52:9). Jeremiah, the prophet of destruction, could nevertheless teach "Assuredly, a time is coming - declares the Lord - when it shall no more be said: ‘As the Lord lives, who brought the Israelites out of the land of Egypt,’ but rather, ‘As the Lord lives, who brought out and led the offspring of the House of Israel from the northland and from all the lands to which I have banished them.’ And they shall dwell upon their own soil" (Jeremiah 23:7-8).

Similarly, this belief pervades the teachings of all the Sages who, in the midst of the darkest days of exile and suppression, when all possibilities of restoration seemed doomed, spoke of the time in the future when the "kingdom of evil" - originally Rome - would vanish and Israel would return to its own land.

They made this an integral part of Jewish prayer, so that three times a day our people recite the Amida, a prayer for redemption, for the return of our exiles and the restoration of our former glory in Zion, climaxing with the words "May we witness Your return in mercy to Zion. Blessed are You, O Lord, who restored His Presence (shechina) to Zion."

Without this concept, modern Zionism would have been impossible. The survival of Israel through thousands of years of exile and oppression has long been seen as a mystery and a miracle, for there are no other examples of a people that lost their land and went into exile, yet were restored after such a long period of time.

The great student of Jewish history and belief, Yehezkiel Kaufmann, insightfully said that the unique idea of God that Israel held, both enabled and compelled Israel’s survival. Had we believed in a finite God, limited to one land, limited in power, we would have been lost and would long ago have assimilated among the nations.

But to Israel, both during the Babylonian exile and later during the Roman exile, the worship of any other god was nothing but fetishism - the worship of sticks and stones. Therefore we could not forget who we were and had no reason to, for we had an assurance - voiced first in our Torah portions - from the Creator of the universe that we would survive and return.

If ever there was an idea that made history, this was it. We today are the living proof that the hope engendered by this idea could never be extinguished.