December/January/February 2011-2012 - Congregation Mishkan ...

LESSONS FROM RAIN: COMING
TOGETHER IN DIFFICULT TIMES
Rabbi Daniel Berman
and spend a couple
of hours cleaning
the outdoor chairs
that rusted during the
winter, well, the hope is
that, on that first morning
of Sukkot, the sun will rise, and
you will look up at the sky through the
tiny holes in the roof of the sukkah, and be
warmed by the glorious sun. No, rain isn’t always
so welcome.
In the Hebrew Bible, Sukkot was primarily an agricultural
festival, and similar celebrations were common
throughout the ancient Near East. It was the season
for harvesting the summer’s crops. During the harvest,
and later, during the journey to ancient Jerusalem in
celebration of this pilgrimage festival, rain was – in the
language of our ancient rabbis – a siman klalah: a curse!
Once that harvest was brought in, however, prayers for
the new season began. These prayers were (and still are)
bound up with hopes that the skies would open and
rain would fall to moisten the earth and to strengthen
the roots of perennial crops.
Some ancient teachings endure. Rain during sukkot
is not good. And yet, for many in this world, there
is a more serious problem than rain splashing down
upon us during Sukkot: what happens if the rains never
come? For those continuing to work the earth, it means
crops may be limited, and the financial stability of
families and communities might weaken, with much
worry in their lives.
This concern is an ancient one. In a source known as
mishna Taanit (meaning fasting), our rabbis asked: what
happens if the day when we are to say the prayers for
rain arrives, and the rain does not fall? What do we do?
The mishna responded: When the rains did not fall,
individuals began three fasts. If the start of the next
month of Kislev arrived, and still no rain, the Court
decreed three fasts for the entire community. If these
fasts passed and the rains didn’t fall, the Court decreed
three more fasts for the community. If these fasts
passed and the rains didn’t fall, the Court decreed an
additional seven, which was now thirteen fasts for the
community.
This mishna may feel distant, inapplicable to our lives.
We can read it and say, really, you think fasting is going
to bring you rain? You think there’s a relationship
between your fasting and the rains?
But I read the mishna to suggest an understanding that,
ultimately, we don’t control the rains. Rain is not just
called “geshem” but “gevurot geshamim” (“the powers
of the rain”) a phrase I think reflects an underlying
understanding of God, Who is “Gevurah” (powerful)
in nature, and an understanding of the limits of human
control.
So why all the fasting? Why the ongoing and increasing
severity of the fast?
Perhaps it’s to consume less. To cut back on those
things we consume in order to preserve them. This
continues to be an important message and possibility in
our lives.
But there’s also a spiritual message that emerges from
the text:
After the first set of fasts, the remaining fasts are
communal. This is how members of a community
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CONGREGATION MISHKAN TEFILA DECEMBER 2011 - FEBRUARY 2012