On Rosh Hashana: The Martyr of Mainz

Recently, several kossacks have asked me questions about Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, which begins Friday night at sundown. (Largely this has been in response to the recipes of the day that I post in the daily top comments diary; recently, the recipes have reflected my ongoing preparations for the holiday.) There are ample resources on the internet for anyone who just wants a general overview; even Wikipedia has a respectable entry.

Given my utter lack of time these days, I have been reluctant to write a Rosh Hashana diary, but someone suggested that I just write a short diary about one particularly memorable Rosh Hashana. Unfortunately, I don't think I have any Rosh Hashana experiences that would really interest anyone here. I'm relatively well versed, though, in the customs, traditions, and liturgy of the day, so I thought I could present some details that might not be so readily found on the internet. Here is the story of one of the most prominent special prayers recited on Rosh Hashana.

There are several themes that underlie everything we do on Rosh Hashana. One of those themes is repentance -- Rosh Hashana begins a ten day period culminating with Yom Kippur (the "Day of Atonement") known as Aseret Y'mai T'shuvah -- the Ten Days of Repentance. During these ten days, Jews are obligated to contemplate their actions over the previous year (not that we don't do this all the time anyway; it's just more intense during these ten days), and we ask God to forgive us for any sins we may have committed against Him/Her/It over the past year, and far more importantly, we ask our fellow human beings to forgive us for any sins we have committed against them over the past year.

Our prayers on Rosh Hashana reflect this theme. One of the most prominent special prayers of the holiday is known as the U'n'taneh Tokef:

May our sanctification of Thy Name ascend unto Thee, for Thou art our God and King.

We will observe the mighty holiness of this day, for it is one of awe and anxiety. Thereon is Thy dominion exalted. On this day we conceive Thee established on Thy throne of mercy, sitting thereon in truth. We behold Thee, as Judge and Witness, recording our secret thoughts and acts and setting the seal thereon. Thou recordest everything; yea, Thou rememberest the things forgotten. Thou unfoldest the records, and the deeds therein inscribed tell their own story for lo, the seal of every man's hand is set thereto.

The great Shofar is sounded, and a still small voice is heard. The angels in heaven are dismayed and are seized with fear and trembling, as they proclaim: "Behold, the Day of Judgment!" The hosts of heaven are to be arraigned in judgment for in Thine eyes even they are not free from guilt. All who enter the world dost Thou cause to pass before Thee, one by one, as a flock of sheep. As a shepherd musters his sheep and causes them to pass beneath his staff, so dost Thou pass and record, count and visit, every living soul, appointing the measure of every creature's life and decreeing its destiny.

On New Year's Day (Rosh Hashana) the decree is inscribed and on the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) it is sealed, how many shall pass away and how many shall be born; who shall live and who shall die; who shall attain the measure of man's days and who shall not attain it; who shall perish by fire and who by water; who by sword and who by beast; who by hunger and who by thirst; who by earthquake and who by plague; who by strangling and who by stoning; who shall have rest and who shall go wandering; who shall be tranquil and who shall be disturbed; who shall be at ease and who shall be afflicted; who shall become poor and who shall wax rich; who shall be brought low and who shall be exalted.

But reverence, prayer, and righteousness avert the severe decree.

For according to Thy Name, so is Thy praise. Thou art slow to anger and ready to forgive. Thou desirest not the death of the sinner but that he return from his evil way and live. Even until his dying day Thou waitest for him, perchance he will repent and Thou wilt straightway receive him.

Verily, Thou as Creator knowest the nature of man, for he is but flesh and blood. Man's origin is dust and he returns to the dust. He obtains his bread by the peril of his life; he is like a fragile potsherd, as the grass that withers, as the flower that fades, as a fleeting shadow, as a passing cloud, as the wind that blows, as the floating dust, yea, and as a dream that vanishes.

But thou art ever our living God and King.

Thy years have no measure nor hath the length of Thy days any end. None can conceive Thee, nor fathom Thy mysteries. Thy name is glorious and we therefore pray that our name be forever linked with Thine own.

As a little kid, I was fascinated by the liturgy, and this prayer in particular, which is recited in a melody I can only describe as haunting. When I was ten years old, I decided I wanted to know the story behind this prayer, and here it is:

More than 800 years ago, there lived a great man in the city of Mainz named Rabbi Amnon. A great scholar and a very pious man, Rabbi Amnon was loved and respected by Jews and non-Jews alike, and his name was known far and wide. Even the Duke of Hessen, the ruler of the land, admired and respected Rabbi Amnon for his wisdom, learning, and piety. Many a time the Duke invited the Rabbi to his palace and consulted him on matters of State.

Rabbi Amnon never accepted any reward for his services to the Duke or the State. From time to time, however, he would ask the Duke to ease the position of the Jews in his land, to abolish some of the decrees and restrictions that existed against the Jews at the time, and generally to enable them to live in peace and security. This was the only favor Rabbi Amnon ever asked, and the Duke never refused him. Thus Rabbi Amnon and his brethren lived peacefully for many years.

The other courtiers of the Duke envied Rabbi Amnon. Most envious of all was the Duke's secretary, who could not bear to see the honor and respect Rabbi Amnon enjoyed with his master, which was rapidly developing into a warm friendship. The secretary sought ways to discredit the rabbi with the duke.

One day, the secretary suggested to the duke that he should convince Rabbi Amnon to convert to Christianity. "Considering the many honors and favors he has enjoyed at your most generous hand, he must gladly abandon his faith and join our own."

The duke agreed. The next day, when Rabbi Amnon came to the palace, the duke asked him for a personal favor: "Become a good Christian like me. If you do, I will make you the wealthiest, most powerful man in my land..."

The rabbi grew pale. For a moment, he had no words, but after a while he replied.

"Great Duke! For many years I have served you faithfully, and my being a Jew in no way lessened my loyalty to you or to the state. Indeed, my faith bids me to be loyal and faithful to the land of my sojourn. I am ready and willing to sacrifice everything I possess, even my life, for you and the state. But I can never part with my faith. I cannot betray my God or my people, for those bonds are most sacred. If I betray them, how could you ever trust me not to betray you? Surely you must be jesting!"

"No, no," the Duke replied, though inwardly he was pleased with the rabbi's response. Rabbi Amnon hoped the matter was closed, but when he arrived the next day, the duke repeated his request. Rabbi Amnon became very upset and began to avoid visiting the palace unless it was absolutely necessary.

One day, impatient at the rabbi's recalcitrance, the Duke put it very bluntly to him: he must convert or suffer the consequences. Given this ultimatum, Rabbi Amnon begged for three days to consider the matter; the time was granted.

No sooner did the rabbi leave the duke's presence than he was overcome with regret. "What have I done!" he thought. "Am I so lacking in faith and courage that I had to request three days to consider my position? How could I show such weakness, even for a moment? Dear God, forgive me!"

The rabbi arrive home brokenhearted. He secluded himself in his room and spent the next three days in prayer and supplication, begging God's forgiveness. When he did not arrive at the palace on the third day, the duke was very angry and sent soldiers to bring Rabbi Amnon to him in chains.

The duke hardly recognized Rabbi Amnon, so much did he change in the intervening three days, but the duke quickly brushed aside whatever lingering sympathy he felt and spoke sternly to his erstwhile friend.

"How dare you disregard my command! Why did you not appear before me at the appointed time? For your sake, I trust you have decided to do as I tell you. If not, it will not end well for you."

Rabbi Amnon, physically broken, replied, "Your highness, there can be but one answer: I shall remain a loyal Jew as long as I breathe!"

The duke was furious. "It is no longer merely a matter of your conversion. You have disobeyed me by not appearing before me of your own accord, and you must be punished."

Rabbi Amnon nodded. "Your highness, by requesting three days for consideration, I sinned gravely against God. My tongue has committed the sin. If I may pass judgment against myself, let my tongue be torn from my mouth!"

These words enraged the duke even more. "For sinning against your God, let Him avenge Himself. I shall punish you for disobeying my orders. Your tongue did not sin against me, but your legs did, for they refused to come to me. Therefore your legs shall be cut off!" And so it was.

With very faint signs of life, the legless body of Rabbi Amnon was sent back to his home, to his grief-stricken family. It was the day before Rosh Hashana. The news of the rabbi's fate spread quickly throughout the whole city. Everyone was horrified and distressed. It was a tragic Day of Judgment (another name for Rosh Hashana) for the Jews of Mainz, who assembled in the synagogue the next morning.

Despite his terrible suffering, Rabbi Amnon recalled that it was Rosh Hashana and requested that he be taken to the synagogue. At his request, he was to be placed before the ark (in which the Torah scrolls are stored).

All the worshippers -- men, women, and children -- wept terribly at the sight of their beloved rabbi in such agony. Never were more heartrending prayers offered than on that day.

When the cantor began to recite the Mussaf prayer (a supplementary service for the Sabbath and holidays), Rabbi Amnon motioned that there be made an interval while he offered a special prayer to God. Silence fell upon the worshippers, and Rabbi Amnon began to recite the U'n'taneh Tokef. The congregation repeated every word, and their hearts went out to God in prayer and tears. The remaining prayers were recited, concluding with the final prayer, Aleinu. When the words "He is our God, and no other" were reached, Rabbi Amnon cried them out with the last of his strength and passed away.

It's not a happy story, but a solemn one. Every year, as we recite the U'n'taneh Tokef, I am reminded that even as we celebrate the new year, my own actions over the past year have not been faultless. I am reminded that I must make every effort to earn the forgiveness of anyone I have wronged, and that I must make right whatever is wrong in my relationship with my God. And when I have done so, I can truly celebrate the new year, content that I have done my part to make the new year as sweet as possible.

L'shana tovah tikateivu -- may you all be inscribed for a happy, healthy, sweet new year.