When’s the real Opposite Day? Purim is the yuntif we usually associate with the theme of opposites (v’nahafechu). But it’s actually Rosh Hashanah that’s a yuntif full of opposites. The very approach to the day itself has two opposing perspectives, and you see it in the seforim, you see it in the davening, and you see it culturally – how Yidden relate to the day.
On the one hand, we know that in Chazal and in sifrei mussar that the aspect of Rosh Hashanah that is highlighted the most is the din and the yirah and even the pachad that comes from those things. It’s easy to almost feel scared of Rosh Hashanah; there are parts of the tefillos that highlight this feeling, certain parts of the nusach, certain niggunim, and even certain aspects of the chazzanus that carry this sense of yirah.
Some Yidden associate Rosh Hashanah with pachad, others with joy and opportunity.
On the other hand, in the Kisvei HaAri, when it comes to Rosh Hashanah, very little is spoken about midas hadin at all. If anything, in pnimius haTorah, the lens through which Rosh Hashanah is viewed is that it’s actually easier to accomplish some
things, spiritually speaking, on Rosh Hashanah than it is during the rest of the year. Things we are normally left to accomplish on our own happen with Hashem’s light, with Hashem’s involvement, with Hashem’s shining face.
Take Chava’s creation as an example — that’s the story of Rosh Hashanah in the writings of the Arizal. In the Torah, Chava is “built” when Adam is asleep. But on Rosh Hashanah, we “build Chava” inside of our souls when Adam is still awake, with the sound
of the shofar, which represents a wakefulness and a presence of Hashem; there is an overwhelming, shining hashpa’ah and shefa and ohr that comes into our lives especially on this day. Just like the sense of pachad this day brings, there are aspects of the davening that highlight this sense of spiritual opportunity as well — appreciating the joy in coronating the King, in receiving Hashem’s embrace and welcoming His presence into our lives: welcoming His Malchus into the world. As the pasuk says, “gilu bira’adah,” there’s a certain “trembling with joy,” a joyful trembling that is the essence of Rosh Hashanah.
Some Yidden associate Rosh Hashanah with pachad, others with joy and opportunity. It’s a Yom Tov of opposites. But how do we bring them together? It’s not enough to say eilu v’eilu divrei Elokim chaim, that both sides are rooted in holiness. In the Ikvisa d’Meshicha, it has become essential to recognize, not just that each approach has truth, but that they actually complete each other.
The Komarner Rebbe, zy”a, citing the Apter Rav, offers a key. The Apter explained that the nature of a tzadik is ahavah; he’s all about light, closeness, and embrace. Like the Gemara says, the sun never sees the dark side of the moon; wherever it shines, there is only light. The Tzadik lowers himself to bring others close, always in warmth and love.
But, warned the Apter, there’s danger in this. A small candle placed too near a great bonfire is swallowed up, losing its flame. If a chassid approaches the Tzadik only in a spirit of embrace, his individuality can be consumed. The role of the Tzadik is to help each candle burn on its own, not to lose its identity in the greater fire! So, the Apter said, the chassid must balance the Tzadik’s warmth with awe and reverence. When the Rebbe showers love, the chassid must receive it with trembling respect. In that dance, between the ahavah from the Rebbe and the yirah from the chassid, the light is received without being so overwhelming that it consumes who you are.
The Komarner said this was how he himself approached his Rebbe, Reb Hershele of Ziditchov zy”a. Though
Reb Hershele would embrace him constantly, showering him with love and affection, he confessed it always took him minutes to gather the courage even to knock on his Rebbe’s door. His heart was filled with awe precisely because he knew he would be met with overwhelming love. He wrote, “whenever I heard his feet approach, the Ribono Shel Olam knows that I was always caught up with an unbelievable sense of awe and reverence and dread and yirah u’pachad, knowing that when he comes he’s only going to shower me with love.” That balance, he said, is what allowed him to absorb his Rebbe’s light without being consumed.
This is the avodah of Rosh Hashanah. From Hashem’s side, as expressed in the Kisvei Ari, is a day of joy, love, and overflowing shefa. Hashem delights in creation; it is His deepest ratzon. But for us to receive that warmth, we approach with awe and trembling, as subjects before the King.
Each group of Yidden, rooted in mesorah, channels one side of this
truth. Some represent the Rebbe’s embrace, others the chassid’s awe. But together, they form a whole. The awe of the chassid is not rejection — it is the kli, the vessel with which to receive love. And the love of the Rebbe is not naïve; it’s given knowing it will be received with reverence.
Rosh Hashanah is not really opposites, it’s not a contradiction, but rather a completion: the Jewish people are warmed but not consumed, trembling but embraced. Every single aspect of Rosh Hashanah is coming to complete each other, resulting in one unified front of the Jewish people being able to bask in Hashem’s glow, in Hashem’s light, in a way that invigorates us, enlivens us, but doesn’t overwhelm us at the same time. This is our hope — that we should all be zocheh to collectively appreciate each other’s avodah, to respect each other’s avodah, and to accomplish what needs to be accomplished, allowing Hashem’s ultimate desire to be fulfilled, which is for Him to reside in this world. And we should be zocheh that this year should be the year that real ratzon Hashem is fulfilled in actuality, with biyas goel tzedek b’meheira v’yameinu.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 53 Rosh Hashana.
