Brookwrite

The holy hat trick

by Doug Brook
Southern Jewish Life columnist

The year 5774 first brought Kol Nidre the 13th, the last time that will occur in a September in the lifetimes of any of our exponentially great-grandchildren.

Then it gave us Thanksnukkah, the exceptionally extraordinary elision of Erev Chanukah with Erev Yom Turkey.

Now, before even the midpoint of the hockey season, 5774 has gotten the hat trick.

Neither the minor holiday of Yom Kippur (how big a Jewish holiday can it be, with no special meals?) nor the even more minor festival of Chanukah (how big a Jewish holiday can it be, with no special sermon?) holds a havdalah candle to the end of this trilogy.

This February 1st was not only Rosh Chodesh February, but also Rosh Chodesh Adar -- on the same day!

Despite its obviously superior importance, both theologically and culturally, some people don't even realize this winter blessing is happening. One can conclude only that the media is too exhausted after its overly extensive coverage of Thanksnukah, and its underly extensive coverage of Kol Nidre the 13th.

But this doubled start of the new month is no ordinary Rosh Chodesh Chodesh. Of course, it's mathematically possible for a Rosh Chodesh to occasionally fall on the first day of a secular month. But there are many reasons why this instance is especially noteworthy.

This Rosh Chodesh Chodesh is at the start of two leap months. Of course, February is the occasional recipient of a leap day, though not this year. And this is also the start of Adar I. You see, 5774 is a leap year, in which a leap month -- a second Adar is added.

So, why is Adar I so special, if the second Adar is the leap month? Because the second Adar -- the one that's added -- is Adar I. Adar II is the normal Adar from every year. (Don't believe it? Ask your rabbi. And then blame your rabbi, on behalf of his or her profession.)

Why is it called Rosh Chodesh Chodesh? Obviously, because it's the start of two months -- in this instance, February and Adar I. Seriously. Dare your local rabbi to show you any instance in the Talmud where a rabbi disagreed with the usage of Rosh Chodesh Chodesh for such an event. They won't find one.

However, this Rosh Chodesh is a two-day Rosh Chodesh. (Yes, some of them are.) So, with this third day of new-monthitude, why is it not Rosh Chodesh Chodesh Chodesh? Because that would just be silly.

While the Talmud doesn't decry this nomenclature either, ask your rabbi whether calling this event Rosh Chodesh Chodesh Chodesh would be silly. The answer will be "who sent you... stop wasting my time," which is ancient Aramaic for "yes."

But they say comedy works in threes. They also say that bad things happen in threes. Therefore, bad comedy must work in two threes.

Given that, Rosh Chodesh Chodesh being the third in the 5774 calendrical anomaly hat trick is actually two hat tricks in one. This second hat trick, of course, is the hat trick of two days of Rosh Chodesh Adar I coinciding with the one day of Rosh Chodesh February -- three giant leaps for mencschkind.

But, in Talmudic fashion, it must be asked, if comedy and bad things each happen in threes, wouldn't bad comedy work in three times three?

Look no farther than Adar's most famous holiday, Purim, which while it stays in the original Adar (Adar II), is still recognized in the second Adar (Adar I) as Purim Katan. Purim has three days of related observance: Purim itself, the Fast of Esther, and Shushan Purim. Thus, a third hat trick -- a hat trick of hat tricks!

Thus, this instance of Rosh Chodesh Chodesh is more monumental, of greater significance and theological impact, than either Kol Nidre the 13th or Thanksnukah.

Now, who can argue with that? Anyone?

Doug Brook is a writer in Silicon Valley who, as a child, collected so many calendars that updating them all currently has him toiling away somewhere late in 1997. For past columns, other writings, and more, visit http://brookwrite.com/. For exclusive online content, like facebook.com/the.beholders.eye.