Parashat Nitzavim – Preparing for Rosh Hashanah

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Introduction: Preparing for the Last Shabbos of the Year

Good evening, everyone. The days are getting shorter, so I’m trying to send you a message tonight as we are getting ready for the very last Shabbos of the year. As our Chachamim teach us, each day of the week can serve to make amends for that specific day of the whole year. Since this is the last Shabbos of the year, we must be particularly careful to bring it in earlier and to behave in a special way, so that it will be fitting to the end of the year.

Dedication in Memory of Inspiring Talmidim

I am, of course, sending you this message in memory of Rav Shlomo Ben Rav Yitzchak, but I would also like to dedicate it l’iluy nishmas Rav Yaakov Shaul ben Rav Meir from Antwerp, a most inspiring talmid chacham. He dedicated his whole life to Torah, learning, and to supporting others, and he always did everything with tremendous humility. He never considered himself in the slightest way worthy of any compliment. May he be a source of inspiration to us all, and may he be a melitz yosher for his wonderful wife, his children, and the entire family.

Atem Nitzavim: Standing Firm Before Hashem

As we prepare for Rosh Hashanah, we read the opening words of this week’s parsha: Atem nitzavim hayom kulchem. Rashi explains that the previous parsha was not a very encouraging one, because Moshe Rabbeinu spoke about all the curses, and naturally, Am Yisrael were not very happy with what they had heard. But Moshe Rabbeinu said: remember one thing. Whatever you go through in life—though there will be challenges, and though you yourselves have already experienced difficult times in the desert—atem nitzavim, you are still standing firmly. Hashem continues to give us strength, and we must appreciate everything Hashem gives us every single day.

Everyone Counts: From the Woodchopper to the Water-Carrier

Moshe Rabbeinu said: you are all standing with me today, everyone—great and small, young and old. Then he adds: mechotve eitz’cha ad sho’ev meimecha—from the woodchoppers to the water-drawers. The question is: why this addition? If he already mentioned everyone, big, old important and less important, why mention the woodchoppers and water-carriers separately?

The phrase “from the woodchopper to the water-carrier” shows they are on the same level—neither greater nor lesser. Our sages explain that this has a deeper meaning. The last day of the year when they stopped chopping wood for the mizveach altar in the Beis Hamikdash was the 15th of Av. And when did they pour abundant water in the Beis Hamikdash? On Hoshana Rabbah, during nisuch hamayim on Sukkos. From Tu B’Av until Hoshana Rabbah there are 51 days. The number 51 is the numerical value of “na” (נא), the word we repeat over and over in our hoshanos.

Moshe Rabbeinu was alluding to this: every year Hashem gives us 51 special days to prepare for judgment. We must make the most of them.

Making an Accounting: Reflections Before Rosh Hashanah

So what is Moshe Rabbeinu’s final message when he says atem nitzavim? That we must make an accounting of the year that has passed.

Looking back, we see tremendous miracles—Hashem has done great chasadim for us. But there have also been difficulties, challenges, and very sad moments. Today in Eretz Yisrael, we received the heartbreaking news of four soldiers who fell, and two more who were brutally murdered. Yes, there has been chesed, but there have also been hardships. As we approach Rosh Hashanah, we must continue thanking Hashem. As Chazal teach, the more we thank and express gratitude, the more Hakadosh Baruch Hu will do for us.

Approaching Rosh Hashanah: Fear and Joy

Of course, Rosh Hashanah is a day of judgment, a day that instills fear in our hearts. But we must remember: Hashem is our King, yet we first call Him Avinu—our Father. When you go to meet your father, you are full of joy. So we must approach Rosh Hashanah both with awe and with joy, or with the great privilege of coming closer to our Father, who longs to show us His love.

The Warning of Moshe Rabbeinu

Moshe Rabbeinu also warns us in this parsha. He says: I'm telling you words of rebuke and some will think, vehitbarech bilvavo—“This won’t happen to me.” Like someone smuggling something into a country who says, “Others got caught, but I won’t.” Moshe Rabbeinu says: such a person does not realize the danger of Yom HaDin.

When we look back, we often think: “Had I known this was going to happen, I never would have stopped praying on Rosh Hashanah. Perhaps one more tefillah, one more kavannah, one more berachah could have changed the outcome.” Therefore, Moshe warns: don’t think everything will simply be fine. On Rosh Hashanah, every single part of our lives is in the balance. But we have the power to tip the scale in our favor.

We must remember that each of us will pass before Hashem individually on Rosh Hashsns, as we say kivnei maron—one by one by one. Even if I say, “Hashem, don’t look at me—look at those greater than I am,” it won’t help. Every single one of us is judged by Hashem Himself.

I would like to share something very beautiful that we read on Rosh Hashanah. In Musaf, we have three sections: malchiyos—crowning Hashem, zichronos—Hashem’s remembrance, and shofaros—pesukim connected to the mitzvah of tekias shofar. In zichronos we bring something very beautiful that we also read in the haftarah, where Hashem tells Rachel Imeinu, when Am Yisrael went into exile and the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed, “Min’i kolech mibechi”—“Hold back your tears.”

Moshe Rabbeinu and the Avos came to plead before Hashem, but it was Rachel’s tefillah that was heard. She said: “My sister took my place in the home I was to build with Yaakov, and I remained silent. It was the hardest thing for me.” In her merit, Hashem promised: “Your children will return.”

Haben yakir li—your son is precious to Me. Why? Because she pleaded for her children, Yosef and Binyamin, and for Yosef’s children, Menashe and Ephraim. Yaakov chose Ephraim to be the eldest. Hashem tells her: “Your son Ephraim is so precious to Me, the youngest son with whom I love to play, and whenever I speak of him, I will always think of him in the best way possible.”

My husband used to say: Haben yakir li—whatever this child does, I shall always be his Father, no matter what happens. Hashem says: Why do I love him? Because yakir li—he is precious to Me. He is valuable and has such worthy qualities. Hashem says: the previous generations who were in the desert with Moshe Rabbeinu showed tremendous emunah. They are called haben yakir li. Later, when they came into Eretz Yisrael, even though they did not act in the most suitable way, I shall always love them.

The Midrash says the word Ephraim contains the word efer—ashes—and yud mem—twice, meaning “two ashes.” The Midrash says: what is Ephraim? Why shall I always remember him? In the merit of two ashes. Avraham Avinu, who said: “I am dust and ashes, have mercy on me.” Hashem says: because of his greatness, I shall always have pity on his children. The second ashes are those of Yitzchak, who was willing to sacrifice himself. A ram was brought instead, but I shall always remember his tremendous devotion.

That is the love of a father. It is unconditional. He only wants his son to return to him.

A story is told about Rav Shmuel Rozovsky, Rosh Yeshiva of Ponovezh. About sixty years ago, one of his most gifted students suddenly left yeshiva. After a year, unhappy and lost, the student debated deserting but felt too ashamed to return. That very day he received a letter from Rav Rozovsky. Who could it be? It read:

“My dear talmid, wherever you may be and whatever your situation, know that my door is always open to you. Whenever you return, I will receive you with open arms.”

The talmid immediately left, returned to Bnei Brak, knocked on his rebbe’s door, and was welcomed back as if nothing had happened.

That is what Hashem tells us on Rosh Hashanah. Kol dodi dofek—you don’t have to be embarrassed if you show Me your good will. He waits for us to return, and no matter what, His arms are always open.

I recommend that this last Shabbos of the year, we take out our machzorim and begin to look through the tefillos of Musaf, preparing ourselves with the right mindset and all that we want to accomplish.

In malchiyos we say: Imru lefanai malchuyot—“Recite before Me verses of kingship.” Why? Kedei shetamlichuni aleichem—because Hashem says, “I want you to crown Me. I want to become your King.”

Imru lefanai zichronot—“Recite before Me verses of remembrance.” Why? Kedei sheya’ale zichronchem lefanai—so that I will remember you in a positive way.

And how do we accomplish this? Through the mitzvah of the shofar. As the pasuk says: Tiku ba-shofar ba-keseh l’yom chageinu—“Sound the shofar on the day of our festival, when the moon is covered.” David HaMelech wrote this in Tehillim. Chazal explain: the “covered moon” is Rosh Hashanah, the only festival that falls at the beginning of the month, when the moon is hidden, in total darkness. Hashem says: at this moment of hiddenness and darkness, the greatest light will emerge.

My father, zichrono livrachah, would always emphasize: what does it mean to crown Hashem? After all, Hashem is the Creator and King of the world already. But if we want to show Him how much we desire Him as our King, we must be present at the coronation. A loyal subject does not stay home; he stops his work, dresses in festive clothing, waves the flag of loyalty, and proclaims his allegiance. So too, Hashem says: Imru lefanai malchuyot—be there for My coronation. Today, the birthday of man, is the day I created humanity to recognize Me as King of the world.

How do we crown Hashem? By living in His image. Mah Hu rachum, af atah rachum—just as He is merciful, so must we be merciful. Hashem reveals His love through His 13 Attributes of Mercy, and 13 is the gematria of ahavah—love. To crown Him, we must mirror those qualities: to be kind, forgiving, merciful, and compassionate.

Then Hashem says: Imru lefanai zichronot—recite verses of remembrance. For example, “Vayizkor Elokim et Noach”—Hashem remembered Noach in the Teivah. Why was he there? To build a new world of morality and goodness. Hashem also remembered Bnei Yisrael when they cried out in Egypt. Every cry, every whisper, was heard. Hashem remembers each one of us, every detail of our lives. Therefore sheya’ale zichronchem lefanai.

And the greatest remembrance of all is Akeidat Yitzchak. On Rosh Hashanah we say: even if we have no other merits, we can rely on the merit of the Akeidah. My father used to say: the Akeidah was the ultimate act of self-sacrifice to Hashem. But is life only about giving up one’s life? No—Hashem wants us to live with sacrifice, as Chazal say, to serve Him through the challenges of everyday life.

Chazal teach: hanne’elavin v’einan olvin—those who are humiliated but do not respond, who are insulted yet remain silent. This is one of the greatest sacrifices a Jew can make. When you hold back, when you choose peace over conflict, Hashem says: on the Day of Judgment, I too will hold back. I will judge you with mercy.

So on Rosh Hashanah we recite pesukim of malchuyot and zichronot. But how do we express them? Through the shofar. One might wonder: isn’t the shofar the essence of Rosh Hashanah? Shouldn’t it come first? Yet it is mentioned last, because the shofar is not merely another element—it is the instrument that carries our declarations. Our crowning of Hashem, our remembrance before Him, all rise heavenward through the cry of the shofar.

And we know, after hearing the shofar, we say: Ashrei ha’am yod’ei teruah—fortunate is the nation that understands the sound of the shofar. We understand that the teruah can be a cry of battle, a trumpet blast calling us to war, but it is also a cry of joy. Rosh Hashanah contains both: on one hand, it is a battle against the Satan and the yetzer hara, as we stand before Hashem with little merit of our own; yet on the other hand, we know Hashem will help us, and that itself brings joy.

That is why we say Ala Elokim b’teruah—before we sound the shofar, Hashem is Elokim, the attribute of strict judgment. But once we blow the shofar, it transforms into middas harachamim, the attribute of mercy.

The Shofar, Gold, and Holiness

There is a beautiful explanation: imagine someone wants to beautify the mitzvah and decides to cover the shofar with gold. Why not? After all, it’s an object of mitzvah, specific to Rosh Hashanah. Yet Chazal says no—ein kategor na’aseh sanegor. Gold reminds us of the sin of the Golden Calf, and on a day when we plead for forgiveness, we dare not bring up that reminder. That is why the shofar must not be covered with gold.

We find the same principle on Yom Kippur. When the Kohen Gadol entered the holiest place on earth, the Kodesh Hakodashim, he did not wear the golden garments with their golden threads. He entered only in white linen clothes. Why? So as not to bring gold before Hashem on the holiest day of the year.

Chazal teach us: just as there is no gold on the shofar, and no gold on the Kohen Gadol in the Kodesh Hakodashim, so too when we blow the shofar—it is the holiest moment. We do not speak, we do not say a word. We let the shofar itself carry our words and our thoughts up to Heaven.

That is why, before we blow the shofar, we recite seven times Lamenatzeach livnei Korach. It reminds us that even the children of Korach repented and saved themselves from destruction. So too, the shofar carries our prayers to the Kisei Hakavod of Hashem.

Just as the shofar brought down the walls of Yericho, it can also break down the walls of our hearts. Sometimes we feel closed inside, unable to express emotion. Hashem says: know that the shofar can break through the strongest walls and remove the barriers within your own heart—if you truly listen. That is what will bring you closer to Hashem.

The 100 Sounds of the Shofar

We blow 100 sounds of the shofar. Why 100? Chazal say it corresponds to the 100 cries of Sisera’s mother. In the days of Devorah the prophetess, when Sisera was killed by Yael, his mother waited at the window for her son who never returned. She cried 100 cries. The Midrash says an angel gathered her tears and brought them before Hashem, saying: “She is a mother; she cried.” If even the tears of a wicked woman—whose son sought to destroy Am Yisrael—are gathered before Heaven, how much more precious are the tears of a tzaddik or of a Yid who pours out his heart before Hashem!

But why do we recall her 100 cries? Because she was convinced her son was the strongest man alive, with the most powerful army, and she was sure he would be victorious. When he did not return, she could not believe it. She cried again and again.

We are warned: do not be like this woman, placing your faith in political power or human strength. On Rosh Hashanah, we must imagine that we come before Hashem with absolutely nothing. True, we may have possessions, wealth, health, family—but the Midrash teaches: Shanah shehi ra’sha, b’sofa mis’asheres —a year that begins in poverty will end in abundance. From the words mei’reishis hashanah—written as rash (shouldn't be written like this should be written reish shin aleph yud taf), meaning poor—we learn that when we come before Hashem, we must feel as though we have nothing, for everything depends only on Him.

Kivnei Maron: Passing Before Hashem

That is why we say kivnei maron ya’avrun lefanecha—we pass before Hashem one by one. Like sheep being counted: one, two, three, four, five, six… and the tenth is marked as ma’aser, to be offered in the Beis Hamikdash. How was it marked? With a little red powder on its back. If the animal could understand and would shake itself, the powder would fall off and it would be spared.

So too, we are told: kivnei maron—you have the power to “shake yourself,” to wake up, to do teshuvah, and to come close to Hashem. Remember that you are Haben yakir li Ephraim—Hashem’s beloved child. When we say Avinu Malkeinu, we have the power to transform middas hadin into middas harachamim.

That all depends on us.

L’Hashem Ha’Aretz: Doing Good in the World

That is why, on the first night of Rosh Hashanah, we recite the beautiful chapter of Tehillim 24, L’Hashem ha’aretz um’lo’ah—the earth and everything in it belongs to Hashem it was created for us. Hashem looks at us and asks: “This past year, did you make My world better? Did you say a good word to someone? Did you perform an act of kindness? Did you smile? Did you reach out niglot lanu ulevaneneinu leolam?”

As the Gemara teaches, we must care for others and improve the world through kindness. That is what Hakadosh Baruch Hu looks for on Rosh Hashanah.

A Story of Inspiration: Reb Nachum Bergman and the Power of Comforting Others

This story takes place during the time when Rabbi Haim Sonnenfeld served as the Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem. In those days, there was a renowned chazzan in the city, Reb Nachum Bergman, who was also a Morah (teacher). Reb Nachum was an extraordinary talmid chacham and a deeply inspiring figure. He was beloved by all who knew him; people came from far and wide to learn from him and to daven with him.

A short time before Rosh Hashanah, Reb Nachum suddenly passed away at the age of 66. His passing was a tremendous shock to the community, as he had been such a central and beloved personality. Rabbi Haim Sonnenfeld recorded the news in his matzevah, and the people of Jerusalem were in deep mourning.

Just a few days before Reb Nachum passed, his son, Rav Shimon, had a baby boy. A couple of days later, he approached his father and asked, “What name should we give the baby?” Reb Nachum, however, did not respond immediately. He simply said, “You’ll see.”

After Reb Nachum passed away, the community understood why. When the baby was born, they named him after his grandfather, honoring Reb Nachum’s memory.

Rav Shimon, now an avel (in mourning), faced a challenge as Rosh Hashanah approached. Normally, someone in mourning is not permitted to serve as chazzan in the first days of mourning. The congregation of the main shul in Jerusalem approached Rabbi Haim Sonnenfeld, asking what they should do. One member even offered to serve as chazzan instead of Rav Shimon.

Rabbi Sonnenfeld did not give an immediate answer. Days passed, and Rosh Hashanah was near. When the day of Rosh Hashanah arrived, everyone was still uncertain who would lead Musaf. Finally, Rabbi Sonnenfeld instructed Rav Shimon, the son of Reb Nachum, to serve as chazzan. There was a collective gasp from the congregation—after all, he was in mourning.

Rav Shimon led the prayers with a voice as beautiful as his father’s, perfectly recalling all the melodies and nusach. The congregation was moved to tears by his uplifting davening.

After the prayers, some community leaders asked Rabbi Sonnenfeld why he hadn’t explained his decision earlier. He shared his reasoning: “On one hand, he was an avel and ordinarily should not serve as chazzan. On the other hand, I thought of Reb Nachum’s widow. If a stranger led the prayers, it might break her heart further. But if her son led the davening, it would bring her comfort. I knew that through his prayers, her son would provide a source of consolation and inspiration for her—and that is a precious mitzvah in heaven.”

This story teaches us the power of thoughtfulness, empathy, and using our gifts to bring comfort to others. Even in moments of personal mourning, we can be a source of solace and inspiration to those around us. May we all merit to bring comfort, light, and spiritual upliftment to others, and may this story inspire us in our own acts of kindness and devotion.

Ketiva v’Chatima Tova. May we all be blessed with a year of good health, happiness, and yeshuah—a year in which Moshiach will come, b’karov mamash. Wishing you a wonderful, uplifting Shabbos in preparation for Rosh Hashanah, with all my love from Yerushalayim.