By Yochanan Gordon
One of the great ironies is that while Motzaei Shabbos is traditionally a late night regardless of when Shabbos is out, when it comes to going to shul to recite Selichos at midnight or at 1:00 a.m., it suddenly becomes an ungodly hour.
Be that as it may, this Motzaei Shabbos at midnight, the streets of Jewish communities around the world will be teeming with men and women not for the purposes of eating pizza, ice cream, or sushi, but more importantly, to recite Selichos and try to get into the proper frame of mind as we enter the High Holiday season.
There is a refrain that is something of a theme or perhaps a mantra throughout the High Holiday liturgy, which opens with the Selichos rite, and that is the feeling of indigence or total poverty before G-d. We say: “Like paupers and vagabonds we knock on your doors; we knock on your doors, merciful and compassionate one.” As such, I thought it would be an appropriate time to reflect on poverty both in the material sense and in the spiritual sense.
It is often said that our world today has no conception of true poverty as it existed throughout history. Certainly, there are political philosophies that bode well for a healthier, more prosperous economy, but in terms of real grinding poverty, despite the fact that there are people out there who have a hard time putting bread on the table, we really have no conception of true poverty, thankfully.
What I’m about to say is partially in jest, but you really can’t find on the streets of today the jalopies of the past. When was the last time you saw a wood-paneled station wagon? There isn’t even a high ratio of used cars, which I would guess was more prevalent years ago when I was a child.
About twenty years ago I learned a sefer from Rav Shimshon Pincus called She’arim B’Tefila which I believe was an interpretation of the Chassidic sefer titled, Shaar Hatefillah, authored by the great Chassidic master Rabbi Chaim of Chernovitz, who also authored the sefarim Sidduro Shel Shabbos and Beer Mayim Chaim on the Torah. The sefer goes through the ten types of prayer, which Chazal delineate in the Gemara in Berachos, and in the chapter on tachnunim he writes that we have to petition G-d as if we were paupers standing in a doorway. I remember thinking back then, and I actually wrote a note to myself about it, that perhaps the nature of the poor among us has changed. He describes the meekness of a pauper who stands in the street appealing to passersby for alms in his quiet, meek, and humble manner. When the situation back then was that if you tried to give a meshulach $10 or $20, they would likely hand it back to you, which remains largely the case today.
A question that begs to be answered is how can we recite the words k’dalim uk’rashim dafaknu delasecha when we really don’t know how to embody a pauper since, thankfully, we have no real conception of what true poverty looks like?
One of the topics we read about in last weeks parashah is known as viduy Maasros. The word viduy means confession, which we do a lot of throughout Selichos and Yom Kippur, when we strike our chests saying, “Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu, etc.” The irony is that viduy Maasros consists of a list of everything we’ve done right. In fact, the person says: “I have done everything I was commanded to do.” That is hardly a confession! This past Shabbos I heard an amazing and original interpretation which states that just as viduy consists of an admission of guilt and negligence, for which we take accountability, viduy Maasros is basically confessing the notion that we actually did everything we were commanded to do.
In truth, everything we do is attributed to G-d; therefore, we are enumerating all the things we thought we could take credit for, declaring instead that even those are not attributed to us but to G-d.
So, although it may seem as if the words k’dalim uk’rashim dafaknu delasecha are a sorry expression of our indigence, on a certain level it is the greatest way to enter into the High Holidays for someone seeking a favorable judgment.
I was always intrigued by the following nuance. In the prayer: B’Rosh Hashana yikaseivun U’byom Tzom Kippur yeichaseimun, we conclude with “who will live and who will die, who in his time and who not in his proper time, who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by wild animals, who in pandemonium and who by plague, who will have rest and who will have wandering…” The passage concludes with “who will be poor and who will be wealthy and who will be downcast and who will be exalted….”
The interesting thing is that the preferred situation is mentioned before the tragic outcome. Who will live and who will die, etc. The funny thing is that it concludes with who will be poor and who will be wealthy as if to imply that poverty is a more hopeful outcome than wealth. There are those who like to suggest that the challenge of wealth (a test many would like to undergo) is far more challenging than poverty. What it seems to suggest in light of what has been laid out is that poverty in this context isn’t an unfortunate outcome, rather the preferred way to enter the High Holidays in anticipation of a favorable judgment.
So, as begin the recitation of Selichot, we should all merit a favorable judgment with long life, presence of mind, happiness, health, and wealth all at the same time the ability to enter into judgment as paupers out of the realization that everything that we have and that we do is afforded to us by G-d. n
