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Dana Greitzer Gotlieb

Next Year, You Will See

In the photo, my mother Michal is holding me in her arms. March 1970, Tel Aviv, Israel.
In the photo, my mother Michal is holding me in her arms. March 1970, Tel Aviv, Israel.

Next year, we’ll sit on the porch and count migrating birds

בַּשָּׁנָה הַבָּאָה נֵשֵׁב עַל הַמִּרְפֶּסֶת וְנִסְפֹּר צִפּוֹרִים נוֹדְדוֹת

These iconic words from Bashana Haba’a, written by Ehud Manor and composed by Nurit Hirsh, capture a timeless dream of hope, peace, and renewal. First released in 1970, during a period of political uncertainty in Israel, the song’s gentle optimism has resonated for decades. With imagery of children playing, grapes ripening, and birds migrating, Bashana Haba’a paints a picture of a better tomorrow—a vision we all share. The chorus, “You’ll see how good it will be next year – עוֹד תִּרְאֶה, עוֹד תִּרְאֶה כַּמָּה טוֹב יִהְיֶה reflects a collective hope for a brighter future filled with peace and stability.

But the beauty of this song runs deeper than its poetic imagery. Released after the Six-Day War (מִלְחֶמֶת שֵׁשֶׁת הַיָּמִים) in 1967, Bashana Haba’a came at a time when Israel was facing immense challenges, including governing new territories and enduring the War of Attrition, grappling with loss and uncertainty to this day. Yet the song stood as a beacon of hope, offering a belief that better days would come.

Being Jewish is not just about observance or ritual. It’s about a Shared History, a shared culture, and a shared ancestral homeland—a peoplehood and a nation (Noa Tishbi)

But it’s not just about individual hope. As Noa Tishby explains in her book Uncomfortable Conversations with a Jew, “Being Jewish is not just about observance or ritual. It’s about a Shared History, a shared culture, and a shared ancestral homeland—a peoplehood and a nation. This shared connection ties back to the Book of Numbers בַּמִּדְבָּר, where the Israelites transitioned from wanderers to a unified nation bound by a covenant with God, each other, and the land of Israel.

Today, in the face of new challenges, we ask similar questions. October 7th was a wake-up call highlighting how deeply interconnected we are as Jewish. As Tishby says, “As a community, we had to put our mourning and grief on pause to combat the surge of anti-Jewish hate.” This difficult time has reminded us that self-reflection is not just about individual growth but also about understanding our collective role in the larger Jewish story. Have we done enough to engage with the issues of our time? Have we stood up against antisemetism, for each other, and Israel?

What have we done to uphold our Jewish identity?

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks spoke about the High Holidays, saying, “We confront our mortality alone… but everyone else around us is doing likewise, making it bearable.”  This is so true. I don’t know what I would have done without my community of Israeli-Amreican Jews, and not just. During grief and uncertainty, our community—our shared strength—sustains us.

As we reflect this year, we must ask ourselves important questions: What have we done to uphold our Jewish identity? Are we actively involved in fighting antisemitism? Have we participated in efforts to support Israel? Have we taught our children about what’s happening? These are difficult but essential questions as we consider our people’s and our community’s future.

Despite these challenges, we will be okay. But we must act now while the tides of hate are growing. The responsibility is ours. We can’t sit back passively; it’s time to reflect on how we’ve responded to this past year’s events and ask: Have we done enough?

It has been with me through every phase of my life—from childhood to adulthood, from army service to raising my children.

I’m reminded of a story that Nurit Hirsh shared about the creation of Bashana Haba’a. When she first composed the melody, it was slow and sad, reflecting Ehud Manor’s loss after his brother Yehuda’s death in the Six-Day War. But someone suggested she speed it up. With that change, the song transformed into one of hope, symbolizing the shift from mourning to optimism. The lyrics changed from “the sun will set” to “the sun will shine.” וְהַשֶּׁמֶשׁ תִּזְרַח בְּתוֹכָן.

I was born a few months before this song was released, and it has been with me through every phase of my life—from childhood to adulthood, from army service to raising my children. It’s a song that fills me with hope, even in the most challenging times.

So, I leave you with this question: How will tomorrow look? 

It’s in our hands. No one else will create the future we dream of. It’s up to us to learn our story, teach it, and act on it to make that vision a reality.

And as the song beautifully concludes: “Next year, we will stretch out our hands toward the white, flowing light. A white heron will spread its wings in the light, and the sun will shine within them.” You’ll see, you’ll see, how good it will be, next year, next yearבַּשָּׁנָה הַבָּאָה נִפְרֹשֹ כַּפּוֹת יָדַיִם – מוּל הָאוֹר הַנִּגָּר, הַלָּבָן’ אֲנָפָה לְבָנָה תִּפְרֹשֹ בְּאוֹר כְּנָפַיִם – וְהַשֶּׁמֶשׁ תִּזְרַח בְּתוֹכָן

עוֹד תִּרְאֶה, עוֹד תִּרְאֶה – כַּמָּה טוֹב יִהְיֶה – בַּשָּׁנָה, בַּשָּׁנָה הַבָּאָה

Shana Tova! שָׁנָה טוֹבָה

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(This text is part of a D’var Torah/Sermon delivered on the second day of Rosh-Hashanah, Jewish New Year, October 4th, 2024, at Congregation Sinai in San Jose, CA, where I serve as a rabbinic intern)
About the Author
Dana Gretizer Gotlieb is a community builder and rabbinical student at the Academy for Jewish Religion. She explores her multinational identity as an Israeli-American Jew and Israeli culture, art, and poetry. Dana immigrated to the U.S. from Israel 16 years ago and creates programs and events that focus on pluralistic Jewish values and bring people together.