The story of Chana, the Haftorah of Rosh Hashana, is a story of devotion and of love, of service and of sacrifice. It is the story of the woman who taught the world what it means to pray--that one prays not with one’s lips, but from one’s heart.
“Marry another woman that you may have children,” Chana said to her husband, Elkana. “And when G-d sees my pain, perhaps I to will be given a child.” So, Elkana took a second wife, Penina. And she bore many children, but Chana had none.
With time, Chana might have resigned herself to her state, and found solace in her loving husband and her service of G-d. But Penina knew of the longing that burned deep within Chana and resolved that longing not be extinguished. And so, Penina tormented her endlessly.
In the morning, Penina rose early to prepare her children for school. “Chana,” she called, “Why are you not up yet? Don’t you have to wash and dress your children?”
At noon, Penina stood at the door, awaiting her children’s return. “Chana, aren’t you going to come too, to welcome your children home?”
At dinner, when Elkana served the main course, Penina once again called attention to her young.
There was not a day that Chana was not confronted with her barrenness. She sat silently at the table, the tears welling in her eyes, observing the lively tumult about her and the obvious pleasure Penina took in tending to her children, and she could not eat. Elkana, sensing her agony, served her the choicest portion, handing it to her lovingly, but it remained untouched.
Each year, Elkana and his family traveled to Shilo. Along the way, they stopped, and Chana and Elkana encouraged others to join them in their pilgrimage. Each year they took a different route, exhorting everyone they met to come along, until eventually, entire villages from all over the land of Israel journeyed with them to sacrifice and give thanks to G-d in Shilo.
It was autumn, and they were in Shilo again. Elkana called his family together to share with them the sacrifice. As always, the best went to Chana. And she alone took no part in the joyous celebration. Gently, Elkana said to her: “Chana, why do you cry? Why is your heart saddened today? Does not my love mean more to you than the love of ten children?”
But the days when that love could have contented her were long past. In her mind, she saw only Penina, who made even the most mundane aspects of motherhood seem sublime. So, when everyone had finished the meal, she returned to the House of G-d, and standing before the Ark, she prayed.
“G-d, you have created everything in this world for a reason. You have given me eyes to see, ears to hear, a mouth to speak. Why have You given me a womb, if not to carry a child?
“Look at all the hundreds of people I have gathered to stand before you here. Shall I not have even one to call my own? Look at my despair, and give me a child, like other children, a happy child, a healthy child. No more do I ask for myself. But if it be Your will, then send me a child who will be a great leader, a sage and a holy man, as were Moses and Aaron, and I will dedicate his life to You.”
For what seemed like an eternity, she stood before the wall, her body shaking and racked with tears, her lips moving but her voice hardly more than a whisper. In those days, prayers and supplications were said aloud, and Eli, the high priest, was suspicious of her behavior.
“Woman, are you drunk?” he called. “Go away from here, for it is improper to stand before G-d in a state of intoxication.”
“No,” she answered, “I have poured myself no wine today. It is my heart that I have poured out before G-d in my anguish.”
“Then go in peace,” Eli replied, “and may G-d grant you your prayer.”
Rosh Hashana is the day of judgment for all humankind.
On this day man is judged as to the events of his life during the forthcoming year. (Talmud, Rosh Hashana 8)
It is the way of the world that if a person has a judgment pending against him, he dresses in black, wraps himself in black, lets his beard grow for the uncertainty of the outcome. Israel, however, is different. They dress in white; they eat, drink and rejoice, in the knowledge that G-d will perform miracles on their behalf. (Jerusalem Talmud, Rosh Hashana, ch. 1)
Sounding the Shofar
The sounding of the shofar contains an allusion: Awake you sleepers from your sleep, and you slumberers, arise from your slumber--examine your deeds, repent and remember your Creator. Those of you who forgot the truth in the vanities of the time and dwell all year in emptiness, look into your souls, improve your ways and actions...” (Maimonides, Hilchot Teshuva, ch. 3)
Rabbi Saadia Gaon gives ten reasons for sounding the shofar on Rosh Hashana, among them: At the beginning of a reign, it is customary to sound trumpets before the newly crowned king, and to proclaim his ascent to sovereignty throughout the realm. Similarly, do we accept anew the Creator’s sovereignty upon ourselves each year on Rosh Hashana. Also, sounding the shofar on Rosh Hashana causes us to recall our faith in the future resurrection of the dead. As it is said: “All you inhabitants of the world, and you who dwell in the earth; when an ensign is lifted on the mountains you will see, and when the shofar is sounded you will hear.” (Isaiah 18)
6:47 Candle Lighting Time NY Metro Area 29 Elul / Sept 15 Shabbat and Rosh Hashana 1 Tishrei/ Sept 16 Light candles after 7:44 pm from a pre-existing flame Rosh Hashana ends 2 Tishrei/Sept 17, 7:42 pm
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So they returned home. That year, Chana bore a son, and she named him Shmuel. When Shmuel was two, she took him with her to Shilo. She stood before Eli and said, “I am the woman who prayed to G-d in my sorrow. Beside me is my son, the answer to that prayer. And now may he be given into the service of G-d for the rest of his life.”
And she sang a song of thanks to G-d, she returned home, and Shmuel remained with Eli in the House of G-d. Though she visited him again each year, from that day on he was no longer only hers. She sacrificed her son to G-d, as Abraham had done before her. She sacrificed him not on an altar of stone, but on the altar of her heart, and her sacrifice was forever.
She had other children later, two more sons and two daughters, but we know her only as the mother of Shmuel the Prophet, the son she gave away.
