The Night Before, The Night Before Rosh Hashanah

Twas the night before the night before Rosh Hashanah and all through the land, the rabbis were schvitzing, were their services all planned?

Were the sermons long enough to make people know that it was not Shabbos they were there sitting through?

Had the shofar been oiled (or whatever you do), could they remember the name of every twice-a-year Jew?

And I, the Rebbitzman, fearing in bed,

if I fell asleep now, will she tap on my head?

When up in the office, there was such a clatter

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away in a flutter, I flew like a flash

I opened the door to see sermons in trash!

Light on the crest of a deep furrowed brow

Gave rise to a voice, “I must rewrite these all NOW!”

When what to my wondering eyes did I divine?

But an inspiration struck Rabbi (and an empty bottle of mid-priced red wine).

With a flurry of typing so lively and fast

I knew in that moment the rewrites were vast.

And she whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Hillel! Now Buber! Now Heschel! And Ramban!

On Sacks! On Akiva! On Ha-Nasi, and Rambam!

To the bottom with footnotes for all she had wrote

Now find segways, SEGUES, SEGUES, SEGUES, FOR ALL OF THOSE QUOTES!!!!

As words before context flop all about

When they meet with a scholar, add meaning and clout

So into the sermon, the vocabulary flew

With double meanings and inspirations for each Jew

And then with a whisper, I heard a short yawn

Could it be that the sermon crises was gone?

As I drew in my head and was turning around

“One down, six to go!” was the sound.

These deadlines were looming when what do I say?

“Go to sleep dear; you still have another day.”

It’s 3 in the morning, you’ve done what you could, you are acting as nervous as during yichud.

You’ve dusted your tallis; the Torah’s been rolled
That part about Chelm, you’ll just have to hold.

If it doesn’t work out, you could always just wing it

Shanna Tova to All… On second thought, just make the cantor sing it!