The text of our Rosh Hashanah davening is immutable. These timeless words, hewn from Tanach, forged by Chazal, and imbued with elegance and gravitas by our mesorah, carry enduring significance that spans countless generations. Yet, the emotions that pulse through our prayers are constantly evolving, reflecting the dramatic shifts and deep transitions that shape our lives.
This year we traverse a landscape of complex emotions. October 7th altered everything. It redefined Jewish identity, reshaped our sense of Jewish peoplehood, and transformed our relationship with our homeland. On Rosh Hashanah, a sacred day of awe and prayer, we must infuse our tefillos to memorialize this national tragedy. This year, certain pesukim and verses from our tefillah resonate with deeper and more profound meaning than ever before.
Here are ten pesukim from the Rosh Hashanah tefillah that resonate with new significance in the wake of October 7th. Let your tefillos rise from the shared sorrow of our people, whose spirits were fractured on that fateful day. Only Hashem’s light can heal our broken hearts and bring solace.
Hester Panim
The quintessential pasuk of Rosh Hashanah is: “Tiku b’shofar gadol b’keseh l’yom chageinu” or “Blow the great shofar on the new moon, on the day of our festival.” Chazal associated the word “keseh” with the similar word, “kisu,” which means something which is hidden. Rosh Hashanah is, in many ways, a concealed chag. The Rosh Chodesh elements of this day are subdued, and even the divine presence of HaKadosh Baruch Hu, which is central to Yom HaDin, remains concealed from most of humanity. By being judged, every person inadvertently, involuntarily, and unknowingly submits to divine authority. But they are not aware. On Rosh Hashanah, we strive to unveil hidden truths and illuminate the shrouded presence of Hashem.
Unfortunately, during this past year His presence has often been severely obscured. On October 7th, we endured twelve hours of traumatic hester panim, a period during which divine intervention felt starkly absent. In the time since, we have encountered a more moderate period of hester panim, yet the shadow of concealment lingers. Rosh Hashanah is a day to unveil the hidden authority of Hashem, and this year, our longing for the revelation of His Shechinah resonates with greater urgency. After a year of seemingly endless “keseh,” or incomprehensibility, we yearn for “giluy” or revelation.
Restore Our Honor
My Rebbe, Rav Amital, recounted how they davened on Rosh Hashanah during the Holocaust in a charred cellar. Few had Machzorim and recited the prayers by heart in the cloak of darkness. As they recited the prayer that Hashem bestow glory to his people: “U’v’chen ten kavod Hashem l’Amecha,” some began to cry and laugh at what seemed like a preposterous dream. Our people had been hunted like animals, murdered in cold blood, what glory could possibly be bestowed to our sunken nation? The survivors in that dank basement could not possibly imagine that, in a few short years, the kavod of the Jewish people would steadily rise, transforming despair into resilience and honor and tremendous glory.
Yet here we stand once again, mocked and scorned, accused of baseless and malevolent activities. Once more, our glory has been tarnished. We plead to Hashem to restore honor to His people and to bring hope to all who seek Him.
Banish Evil
In the section of tefillah known as “U’v’chen tzaddikim,” we visualize the righteous people celebrating Hashem, while fervently praying for the eradication of evil from our world. “V’kol harisha kula k’ashan…” In the past, we prayed to Hashem to remove the forces of evil, which we imagined as poised to attack our people and threaten humanity. Sadly, those forces of death and murder unleashed their anger and violence against our people and, of course, all humanity. They attack the Jews but they murder civilization. This year, the infernal subjects of our prayers (the wicked governments and rulers) are not difficult to identify. We pray that Hashem swiftly eradicate the evil nations and their proxies, the insidious “risha” (the pervasive evil) that has distorted truth and perverted morality, terrorized our people and assaulted our homeland. With Hashem’s help we have begun this project, but we implore Him to completely cleanse the world of those who have forfeited their right to inhabit it by virtue of their inhumanity.
Thunderclaps
Rosh Hashanah is a deeply auditory experience, filled with sounds that resonate with “Malchut Shamayim.” The shofar blasts remind us of the deafening moments in history when Hashem’s presence was manifest. From the rushing waters of Creation to the thunderous lightning at Matan Torah, from the sweet notes of the shofar which fluttered through the Beit HaMikdash, to the thunderclaps which will signal the end of days: these powerful sounds convey Hashem’s dominion.
Yet, on October 7th, these sounds were hauntingly distorted, reverberating with violence and blasphemy. The vile cacophony of bombs, missiles, and blasphemous and bloody shouts of A___ Akbar filled the heavens with the desecration of Hashem’s name. Thunderous heavenly sounds, meant to affirm Hashem’s authority, became twisted by heresy and hatred. On Rosh Hashanah, as we recall the sacred sounds heralding the arrival of the Shechinah, we ask Hashem to renew these divine echoes and amplify their heavenly proclamation of His authority.
Memory of Yitzchak
When recalling the covenant of Yitzchak, the Torah doesn’t employ the term zechirah (remembrance) as it does for Avraham and Yaakov. “V’zacharti et briti Yaakov v’et briti Yitzchak v’af et briti Avraham ezkor.” Chazal explain that since Yitzchak was prepared to be sacrificed, his ashes are “perpetually assembled” upon the Mizbeach of Har HaMoriah. They are so immediate and vivid that they require no special act of remembrance or zechirah. It is as if Hashem looks directly below and instantly recalls Yitzchak’s sacrifice and courage.
If Hashem remembers the bravery of a single soul who was nearly sacrificed and responds to his virtual akeidah ashes, how much more should He remember the countless lives tragically consumed in flames on that dark day, and the remains which were rendered unrecognizable. What of the ashes of millions of His people denied a dignified burial in the killing fields of Europe? How can a 21st century Jew recite this pasuk without trembling, without appealing to Hashem to acknowledge our mesirut nefesh? As history unfolds, so do our tefillot. While the words remain unchanged, their meanings deepen, enriched with new layers.
Beloved Sons
At a deeply passionate moment in the Mussaf prayer, we remind Hashem that we are not merely His subjects, but are also His beloved child: “Haben yakar li Efraim im yeled sha’ashuim.” We all recognize the depth and intensity of the love we feel toward our children, and in citing this pasuk we yearn for Hashem to see us through that same lens of parental affection. Tragically, this past year, we have lost too many sons and too many daughters. We stood by their graves, enveloped by the agonizing cries of parents, each cry a wail of deep loss and agonizing heartbreak.
On Rosh Hashanah recall this love and channel it: the love we feel toward our children and students who defended us with their lives. Ask Hashem to mirror that love, to look upon His children as we do ours, with infinite compassion and affection.
Inner Sheep
The Mishnah in Rosh Hashanah portrays all of Hashem’s subjects appearing before Him as “bnei marom.” One interpretation of the Gemara for bnei marom—the one adopted by U’Netaneh Tokef—is that we appear before Him like sheep. Sheep are utterly helpless, utterly at the mercy of their shepherd, unable to turn right or left. Defenseless. This year has deepened our gratitude for the privilege of having a Jewish army to protect us. While October 7th was not the first pogrom in our history, it marked the first pogrom followed by a war. Yet, even amidst our courageous efforts to defend our land and people, we often contended with a disheartening sense of helplessness, acutely aware of our reliance on our Shepherd to protect us through the darkness. Tap into that inner vulnerability. This year we know all too well how to feel helpless as a sheep.
Release Them
The first pasuk of Zichronot doesn’t take us back to any grand moment in Jewish history. Instead, we ask Hashem to have mercy on us, just as He had mercy on the animals in Noach’s teivah. These animals had no merits, no covenants. They were merely creatures sequestered in a dark, sweaty, and putrid ark for twelve months, with little light, air, or food. Hashem’s mercy was granted to them simply because they were His creatures who were suffering intolerable conditions.
A hundred hostages, our own people, our own children, are enduring conditions far worse than the animals aboard the teivah. Who can unsee the horrifying images of the dark, confining, claustrophobic tunnels in which they are confined? We plead to Hashem to release them from their imprisonment, just as You released Your creatures from the confines of the teivah. Show them that same mercy.
Release Us
The shofar begins with a pasuk which implores Hashem to release from confinement. “Min Ha-meitzar karati Hashem, aneni b’merchav Hashem” or “From out of the narrow straits I called G‑d; with broad and boundless relief G‑d answered me.” We all feel cornered, just as our ancestors did at the Yam Suf, surrounded by enemies who seek only to destroy us. The physical shape of the shofar reflects our plea: sound enters through a narrow, constricted opening and emerges from a broad, wide exit. We ask Hashem to expand our situation, to open up spaces of relief and free us from being cornered and trapped.
They Will Know
And finally, we return to the central theme woven throughout our tefillot: our hope for the day we yearn for, the day that is hinted to on Rosh Hashanah, a day in which the world will recognize His presence and embrace His will. “V’yada kol pa’ul ki atah pe’alto, v’bayn kol yatzur…” One day, Hashem’s presence will be undeniable, a force uniting the world. Only His presence can guide humanity toward transcending hatred, ego, and selfishness. Only through Hashem’s presence can humanity coalesce into an “agudah echat,” a unity born of shared purpose and common interest. Let us pray that Hashem reveals Himself to an injured world, that His light replaces evil with morality, and that He renews His great love For His chosen people. Ketiva V’Chasima Tovah. n
Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi at the hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with semicha from Yeshiva University and an MA in English Literature from CUNY. He is author of “Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below” (Kodesh Press) and the forthcoming book, “Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History” (Mosaica Press).
