The sweetness of a New Year

Today is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which is also known as The Day of Remembrance (even though it’s technically two days). It’s a holiday for prayer, reflection, celebration, gratitude, family, and several giant meals (because it’s not a Jewish holiday without copious amounts of food).

While there are lots of Jewish holidays throughout the year, Rosh Hashanah, and the High Holidays in general, have always felt extra special for me. I’m not sure if it’s because there have been many times when my birthday and RH coincided (more cake and people to sing for me!), or if it’s because it signals the official start of Fall (at least in my mind, since Fall didn’t exist as a kid growing up in Florida). But regardless of why, I’ve always felt like there’s a little bit more magic in this particular holiday season than many others. And us Jewish folks have some good ones, like Chanukah (8 nights of gifts!), Purim (dress up, parade around in your costumes, and eat cookies!), and Simchat Torah (dance and get drunk!).

It’s funny, really, because the secular New Year—January 1—doesn’t actually do much for me. I love watching the Rose Bowl parade, and appreciate having the day off from work. But I don’t do parties, I don’t make resolutions, I don’t eat black eyed peas, and most years I don’t even stay awake long enough to see the ball drop at midnight.

But this other new year, Rosh Hashanah, just has a different feel to it.

There’s an inherent spirituality, of course, because after all, it’s a religious holiday. But anything can be spiritual if you approach it with a certain amount of openness and intent. (I’ve started saying the Modeh Ani, a prayer thanking God for waking up, while I walk my dog Ruby every morning…so clearly, spirituality can even coincide with picking up dog poop.)

This particular spirituality, though, feels less mystical or otherworldly, and more warm. Welcoming. Optimistic. It may be because on Rosh Hashanah, as we celebrate the beginning of the year and the beginning of the world (according to the Torah), we also mark the beginning 10 days of repentance—known as The Days of Awe. Which actually, now that I think about it, doesn’t sound all that warm and welcoming. Especially given that Yom Kippur literally means the Day of Atonement, or in other interpretations, the Day of Judgement. That’s not exactly light and floaty stuff.

During these 10 Days of Awe, which lie between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we’re instructed to ask for forgiveness from the people we may have hurt in the last year, while also asking God to remember that we’re only human, and to forgive us for anything we may have done that we ourselves don’t even remember. We’re invited to look inside our hearts, to discover what really matters, to be present, to be connected, and to forgive others, too, so that we may be written in the Book of Life, and enjoy a sweet new year in the days to come.

Even though this High Holiday period begins with a joyous celebration of the new year, the underlying themes of remembrance, repentance, and forgiveness quickly appear. In elementary school, while we marked Rosh Hashana with apples and honey, we quickly switched gears to the Days of Awe that followed, where we were taught to make a literal list of everything we did wrong in the last year, and go around asking the people who we offended to accept our apologies before Yom Kippur. You can imagine how that might strike fear into the hearts and minds of 7-year-olds. I always felt like there was a little bit of shame attached, like we were being judged for our mistakes. But over time, my understanding of this holiday has changed. (And so has the way it’s being taught in school, thank goodness.)

These days, I see Rosh Hashanah, The Days of Awe, and Yom Kippur as an opportunity to remember my own goodness and the goodness of others. To apologize to my kids when I forget that they’re their own people, with their own unique spirits, and that I can’t expect them to move through the world the way I want them to, much less the way anyone else does. To forgive myself when I fall back into old habits or patterns that no longer serve me, or forget to give myself the space I need to rest and recharge.

The older I get, and the more I explore my own human nature, the more I believe that the themes and teachings of High Holidays aren’t limited to a specific time of year. Nor are they limited to a specific religion, either. The ideals of acceptance, presence, letting go, generosity, compassion, connection, remembrance, forgiveness, joy, gratitude…those aren’t strictly theistic notions. They’re just parts of living a more whole, centered, and beautiful life.

Today and tomorrow, as Jewish communities around the world celebrate the new year, I’ll be doing the same…with a renewed intent to bring the spirit of these days into every day that comes next:

Appreciating life, without clinging or fighting it.
Helping others, without asking for anything in return.
Offering love, without conditions.
Continuing to learn, without needing to know where it will lead.
Accepting my kids (and myself), without trying to change them.
Seeking laughter and whimsy, without worrying about what other people think.
Devouring ice cream and honey cake, without feeling guilty about it the next morning.

All of these things, for me, are the true meaning of a sweet new year.

L’shana tovah u’metukah, to everyone who celebrates.