Jews are unique. Even our New Year greeting is different — a harsh reflection of our experiences as a nation apart.
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are called the High Holy Days. They are more holy days than holidays: a time for introspection rather than celebration.
Jewish tradition teaches that every year God reviews the lives of all humanity and decides what will happen in each life in the year to come. God decrees life or death for each person, inscribing those who will live in the Book of Life.
On Rosh Hashanah Jews wish each other a happy holiday and a good year ahead. It is a commandment to be joyful during the holiday — a must. But it would be highly presumptuous to suggest the possibility of a happy year. Happiness for an entire year?! That’s too far-fetched, and very possibly not what would be best for you. God’s plan for an individual (or for a nation) might be terribly painful. It may not be “happy,” but it can still be “good.”
In the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the traditional blessing is: “May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.” The literal Hebrew reflects Jewish cynicism (and bitter historical experience), saying: “May your name be written and sealed completely in the Book of Life.” The sentiment, essentially, is: I hope you don’t die next year.
It’s funny, and terrible, all at once.
Cultures around the world mark the New Year with different traditions, at different times of the year. I don’t know of any other culture that observes the New Year with the same level of introspection as the Jews. How many people do you know who truly reflect on the quality of their lives, what they have contributed to others, and the possibility of dying in the year ahead?
Jewish tradition emphasizes that before being right with God, one must first be right with other people. During the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, individuals reflect on their actions from the past year and seek forgiveness from those they have wronged. Only after people forgive each other, it becomes possible to ask God for forgiveness. This is very different from other religions and cultures. Religious figures, God, or prayers cannot absolve Jews of their sins. Healing comes only when individuals take personal responsibility for their actions and ask forgiveness directly from those they have harmed.
Jews don’t need to be good just to other Jews; we believe that it is crucial to be good to all people, everywhere, to provide help where it is needed, to right wrongs wherever possible, to make life better.
I am proud that Israel upholds these ideals throughout the year, providing humanitarian aid around the world and innovations that touch the lives of people everywhere — from agricultural inventions that bring food and clean water to developing countries, to modern conveniences that people in the West can no longer imagine living without. Israel’s assistance to the security of other nations has saved countless lives around the world. One of the most disparaged nations on earth, Israel, probably provides the most to people worldwide (this is absolutely true when Israeli & Jewish contributions to humanity are calculated per capita).
Our country is not perfect. No one is perfect. But we try — damn hard. We argue all year long about the right way to do things and about how to be better. We demand compassion for our elderly, our sick, the strangers among us, even for our enemies and the people of other countries. Each year we reflect on our accomplishments as a nation and recognize that we have fallen short. As long as anyone among us suffers or is not cared for properly, we have not done enough.
Every year we acknowledge what is wrong, and in the year to come, we try to do better.
Surrounded by enemies who openly declare their desire to see us destroyed and weighed down by “friends” who echo our enemies’ language and provide support to their goals, it is difficult to know what this year will bring.
After two years of existential war, with soldiers dead and wounded, hostages, shattered homes, unfathomable trauma, and a world turning against us, we stand at a precipice.
Who among us will die, simply because we are Jews?
Friends and family, colleagues and strangers will die of old age, disease, or accidents. Others will die because of who we are. Targeted for the “crime” of breathing while Jewish.
Happy thoughts for the New Year, right?
Realistic ones.
This is our reality — and yet we refuse to be anything other than what we are. We strive to do the right thing: for each other, for our nation, and for the world. We will continue to do so, whether or not it is recognized, whether or not it is appreciated.
This year I pray that my friends and family, people I know and people I don’t, will be inscribed in the Book of Life. May people around the world be spared the suffering we have endured. Whether they realize it or not, we are fighting their fight. If we do not stop the evil on our doorstep, it will soon arrive at theirs.
A happy year — a peaceful, quiet year — would be wonderful. But before that is possible, there is work to be done. A good year, one in which we learn, grow, and become better as a result… that would suffice.
Gmar hatima tova! May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.
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