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rhuAs some of you are aware, this Wednesday morning, in addition to being the eve of Passover, is the once-every-28-years Jewish ritual of the Blessing Regarding the Sun. I've been giving a bit of thought to how I feel about this.
The astronomy on which it's based was the state of the art 2,000 years ago. Assuming a geocentric model, and a year length of 365.25 days, then one computes that the sun's position in the sky relative to a seven-day week has a 28-year cycle. So on the first Wednesday following the vernal equinox in years whose number is 28n+1, the sun is starting a new cycle.
To us, of course, this is wrong on many points. The solar year is not quite 365.25 days long, which affects both the cycle length and the Julian/Gregorian drift. The sun is not 5,769 years old. The solar system is moving through the Milky Way, which is itself speeding through the Universe. And so on, and so forth.
But I don't think that matters. Here's why.
The actual blessing that is recited has nothing to do with the sun. This is simply one of several occasions when one acknowledges the Creator by reciting "Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Infinite Sovereign, Who creates the creations of Genesis." Other such occasions are upon witnessing phenomena such as shooting stars or lunar and solar eclipses, or geologic wonders such as the Grand Canyon. Basically, when one is aware in the moment of the grandeur of creation, that is an opportunity to give credit to the Creator.
This is not a blessing of thanksgiving; it is not a blessing of benefit; it is a blessing of acknowledgment. And it is not a blessing on the sun; nor a blessing of the sun; nor a blessing for the sun. It is a blessing occasioned by the sun's putative return to its position at the moment it was created.
And that's why I don't think the faulty astronomy matters. The moment has potency because of the social construct that says "this is the moment to think about the fact that the sun was created at all."
The part that I do have a problem with is the accretion of ritual. The Talmud says that when the sun returns to the start of its cycle, we make the blessing "Who creates the creations of Genesis." And the Talmud then continues its list of similar occasions.
But this only happens once every 28 years. And it's nine words long. It's over in two seconds. That feels anticlimactic to people. So they augment it.
They add the Torah passage that describes the fourth day of creation. They add chapters of Psalms. They add most of the liturgical poem Kel Adon, which we sing every Shabbat morning, describing how the heavenly bodies praise God.
I think part of why the rabbis of the Talmud included this as just another occasion for "oseh maaseh vreishit" is because they didn't want it to be a big deal. This is not a time for sun-fetishism. Look, guys, (they seem to say) the return of the sun to the start of its cycle is just another part of nature.
I'd feel this way even if this time around it didn't happen to fall on Erev Pesach, a day when we're already ridiculously busy.
The irony of the juxtaposition is delicious, I'll admit --- on a day when we literally are watching seconds tick by to the moment when we are no longer allowed to eat chametz, and then to the moment when we are no longer allowed to own it, and then to the moment when we may begin our seder, and then to the moment of "halfway through the night" when the redemption took place --- when we count the eighteen minutes allowed between the introduction of flour and water into the same room until the matzot are fully baked and removed from the oven --- on the day of seconds, minutes, and hours, we are looking to heavenly cycles of 28 years.
So yes, on Wednesday morning I will hope for clear skies so I can spend two seconds contemplating eternity --- but I will not make any bigger a deal about it than I did when I said the same blessing over the glacial valley at Franconia Notch State Park, or during last week's thunderstorm.
The astronomy on which it's based was the state of the art 2,000 years ago. Assuming a geocentric model, and a year length of 365.25 days, then one computes that the sun's position in the sky relative to a seven-day week has a 28-year cycle. So on the first Wednesday following the vernal equinox in years whose number is 28n+1, the sun is starting a new cycle.
To us, of course, this is wrong on many points. The solar year is not quite 365.25 days long, which affects both the cycle length and the Julian/Gregorian drift. The sun is not 5,769 years old. The solar system is moving through the Milky Way, which is itself speeding through the Universe. And so on, and so forth.
But I don't think that matters. Here's why.
The actual blessing that is recited has nothing to do with the sun. This is simply one of several occasions when one acknowledges the Creator by reciting "Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Infinite Sovereign, Who creates the creations of Genesis." Other such occasions are upon witnessing phenomena such as shooting stars or lunar and solar eclipses, or geologic wonders such as the Grand Canyon. Basically, when one is aware in the moment of the grandeur of creation, that is an opportunity to give credit to the Creator.
This is not a blessing of thanksgiving; it is not a blessing of benefit; it is a blessing of acknowledgment. And it is not a blessing on the sun; nor a blessing of the sun; nor a blessing for the sun. It is a blessing occasioned by the sun's putative return to its position at the moment it was created.
And that's why I don't think the faulty astronomy matters. The moment has potency because of the social construct that says "this is the moment to think about the fact that the sun was created at all."
The part that I do have a problem with is the accretion of ritual. The Talmud says that when the sun returns to the start of its cycle, we make the blessing "Who creates the creations of Genesis." And the Talmud then continues its list of similar occasions.
But this only happens once every 28 years. And it's nine words long. It's over in two seconds. That feels anticlimactic to people. So they augment it.
They add the Torah passage that describes the fourth day of creation. They add chapters of Psalms. They add most of the liturgical poem Kel Adon, which we sing every Shabbat morning, describing how the heavenly bodies praise God.
I think part of why the rabbis of the Talmud included this as just another occasion for "oseh maaseh vreishit" is because they didn't want it to be a big deal. This is not a time for sun-fetishism. Look, guys, (they seem to say) the return of the sun to the start of its cycle is just another part of nature.
I'd feel this way even if this time around it didn't happen to fall on Erev Pesach, a day when we're already ridiculously busy.
The irony of the juxtaposition is delicious, I'll admit --- on a day when we literally are watching seconds tick by to the moment when we are no longer allowed to eat chametz, and then to the moment when we are no longer allowed to own it, and then to the moment when we may begin our seder, and then to the moment of "halfway through the night" when the redemption took place --- when we count the eighteen minutes allowed between the introduction of flour and water into the same room until the matzot are fully baked and removed from the oven --- on the day of seconds, minutes, and hours, we are looking to heavenly cycles of 28 years.
So yes, on Wednesday morning I will hope for clear skies so I can spend two seconds contemplating eternity --- but I will not make any bigger a deal about it than I did when I said the same blessing over the glacial valley at Franconia Notch State Park, or during last week's thunderstorm.