The New Year
A New Year
As summer simmers away in Texas, I find myself in Israel, watching the season turn to Fall. It is my first time traveling here alone, arriving a week ahead of my husband. A chance to be surrounded by wonder, history, and awe, on my own.
Rosh Hashanah is a holiday Jewish people look forward to each year. It’s meant to be filled with sweetness, joy, laughter, song, food, and dancing. But how do you dance when loved ones are taken? Sweetness, where is it? This past year has brought us everything but sweetness. Celebrating feels impossible.
And yet, we have done this before.
- The Roman Empire. Jews went into caves to blow the shofar in secret.
- Medieval Europe. “Secret Jews” whispered prayers in hidden cellars, mimicking the taste of apples and honey.
- Eastern Europe and Pogroms. Families gathered quietly, blowing the shofar only among the most trusted.
- The Holocaust and World War II. Jews prayed without books or ritual items, relying on memory alone.
- Concentration Camps. At Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, they risked everything to blow a shofar or whisper a prayer.
Let me add my own:
- Israel, 2025. Seven hundred and two days after October 7th, the country remains under constant attack. Tables hold empty seats for loved ones—hostages, soldiers, and those killed. Once again, the world would prefer us to retreat to caves and whisper.
But no. Today, our voices are louder. We know our past, and the common thread through it all is this: an unbreakable spirit, passed down from generation to generation, and the right to be who we are.
So my wish for you this year is simple: Dance.
Dance for those who hide in fear.
Dance for those who are not at the table because they are fighting.
Dance for those who no longer can.
Our ancestors fought to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. Now it is our turn. What we do today matters, so that tomorrow can still be filled with hope.
To Those I love near and far,
L’Shana Tova