The origins of Rosh Hashanah

"Hush, for the day is holy; do not be sad.”

Considering its importance on the Jewish calendar, it is surprising to discover that Rosh Hashanah is only mentioned twice in the Torah. Leviticus 23:23-25 says, “God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelite people thus: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts. You shall not work at your occupations; and you shall bring an offering by fire to God.” Numbers 29:1 says basically the same thing, while also elaborating on the offerings to be brought.

While the words “Rosh Hashanah” appear in Ezekiel 40:1 at the outset of the prophet’s vision of the restored Temple, only a few words later the date for the vision is set on the 10th of Tishri — that is, on Yom Kippur of 573-572 BCE.

And while there are numerous other verses in the Tanakh that mention themes of Israelite repentance and divine compassion (e.g., Deuteronomy 30:1-6), or which would otherwise be a great fit for Rosh Hashanah (Psalm 81:4 tells us to “Blow the horn on the new moon”), the only lengthy description of the day appears in Nehemiah 7:73-8:13.

There, “on the first day of the seventh month,” the Israelites in Jerusalem were gathered to hear Ezra the priest read the “scroll of the Teaching of Moses with which God had charged Israel.” He read to both men and women “from first light until midday,” while other Levites translated and “explained the teaching to the people.”

The gathered Israelites were overwhelmed by what they heard, and the Levites had to keep reminding them not to mourn or weep. In one of the most touching verses in all of the Tanakh, the Levites simply say, “Hush, for the day is holy; do not be sad.” They also say, “Go, eat choice foods and drink sweet drinks and send portions to whoever has nothing prepared, for the day is holy to our Sovereign. Do not be sad, for your rejoicing in God is the source of your strength.”

The important thing to realize, however, is that the events narrated in Nehemiah take place around the year 445 BCE — that is, about six years before the Persians defeated the Babylonians, and seven years before the Persian King, Cyrus, allowed the exiled Israelites to return and rebuild the Temple. Understanding this, we now realize why translation and interpretation were necessary for the gathered crowd: Ezra was speaking to the Israelites not taken into captivity, the ones who were left behind in the city for decades with no guidance or leadership.

In all of these passages, there is very little about “the first day of the seventh month” that we would recognize today. Leviticus and Numbers do mention that the day should be “commemorated with loud blasts,” and the Israelites listening to Ezra appear to be penitent. But until the Talmud, this is all we know about the ancient practice of Rosh Hashanah.

Or is it? Rabbi Reuven Hammer suggests there might be other clues. Unlike Pesach and Sukkot, Rosh Hashanah is not a pilgrimage festival and, unlike those holidays, it is observed on the new moon rather than the full moon. The new moon, or Rosh Hodesh, was immensely important in ancient Israel, and it is likely that the new moon of the seventh month would have been an even more sacred occasion, with seven always being an auspicious number.
For Reuven, the origins of Rosh Hashanah are more likely to be found in the Psalms. Seen beside the mention of “loud blasts” in Leviticus, there are a number of psalms (98:6, 95:1-2, and 100:1) which connect the horn, or shofar, with the proclamation of God’s sovereignty. It is also possible that Psalms 95-100 were written specifically for “a popular celebration of God’s completion of the Creation and assumption of the celestial throne” — a celebration that took place on the first of Tishri.

If this is true, it isn’t hard to see how a holiday that commemorates the sublime and overwhelming reality of God’s sovereignty and creative power might also suggest to the ancient Israelites their own relative smallness, and even unworthiness. Perhaps it was this reaction that prompted the addition for personal repentance alongside an otherwise grand celebration.

There are also numerous references in the Tanakh that blame the Israelites themselves for the fall of Jerusalem and the First Temple: Lamentations 1:5 says, “God has afflicted her for her many transgressions”; see also Jeremiah 9:11-12 and Lamentations 4:6. If this was the prevailing interpretation of events at the time, we can understand why the crowd being addressed by Ezra felt so overwhelmed, not just by God and the grandeur of creation but also at the horror of all that had been lost.

It wasn’t until many centuries later, after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE and during Talmudic times, that the rabbis began to speak about Rosh Hashanah in ways we recognize, talking of God’s justice and mercy and using statements like, “Great is repentance for it preceded the creation of the world.” There are even the incredibly hopeful and forgiving words that we wish Ezra’s audience could have heard: “In the place where penitents stand even the wholly righteous cannot stand,” and, “Penitence is equal to all the sacrifices of a sinner combined, for it is written, The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit.”

But this year on Rosh Hashanah, I would rather imagine myself standing with those Israelites living amid the ruins of the First Temple. These people had no idea that the Babylonians would be defeated, or that a Second Temple would be built, just as I have no way of knowing what the place of Jews are in the world, or what tomorrow might bring for us. All I know is that, on the first of Tishri, and for the space of an evening, the moon will be new and, “Hush, for the day is holy; do not be sad.” PJC

Tim Miller is a poet and writer living in Pittsburgh. He is online at wordandsilence.com.