The festival of Rosh Hashanah, marking the start of a new Jewish year, begins this evening at sunset. Upon the conclusion of the evening prayers in the synagogue, we extend to one another greetings of Leshana Tovah Tekatev Vitechatem, “May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.” In the evening meal, we eat apple dipped in honey, the head of a fish, pomegranates, tzimmes (sweet carrots) and other foods signifying a sweet and successful year.

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Prior to lighting the candles, see Laws & Customs for tomorrow, Tishrei 1 at Chabad.org.

Tell me you don’t recognize this: “Well, last year was a total fiasco, but next year will be totally different! I failed at everything last year, but the coming year I will have an absolute metamorphosis!” I’ve uttered and have heard these statements too many times. They are so cliché, and so wrong.

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Now, hold it. I do believe people can and will change, if only they wish to. A person can change his or her life around in a second, and I dare not mock the repentant.

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The issue I take with these statements is with the first half of each one: “Last year was a failure. I failed last year. I was a loser…” No, you weren’t! That is so not true! You are so wrong! How can you discard a year like that? Weren’t there so many good things you did, wonderful times you experienced, and many moments of commendable self-growth?

Regardless of how many unpleasant incidents occurred in your life in the last 12 months there were likely still many positive moments. Did you not give charity? Did you not contribute to the building of a relationship?

Did you not celebrate others’ happiness with them, and mourn for your fellow’s pain?

Did you never smile? Did you not see the hand of Gd guiding your steps? 

The attitude of “last year was bad …” is wrong, a lie.

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But worse, it guarantees another “failure” for the year to come. The logic is simple: If you were unable to see how much you accomplished last year, how many blessings you accumulated, what are the chances you will be aware of your growth, and the positive events coming your way during the year to come?

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In summary: When summing up the year behind us, let us accept the year for what it was: a year of blessing for which we are grateful, of admirable growth of which we are proud, and of mistakes and hardships from which we grew. All in all it was a good year, thank G-d. And Gd willing, next year will be even better.

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Rabbi Levi Avtzon

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There are times He seems to be peeking through the latticework of our world, filling the day with light.

But then there are times He hides His face behind a thick wall.

We are confused. We cry out to Him, loudly, for He must be far away.

He is not far away. The wall is His hand, and His hand is also Him.

It is Him holding us from afar, so that we may grow and accomplish on our own.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

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We’re familiar with the sights, tastes, and sounds of Rosh Hashanah—the sweet sensation of honey on our tongues, the rhythmic swaying of the congregation in prayer, the cry of the shofar piercing the air. But have we ever stopped to think about the messages behind the deeds of the day? While every commandment is essentially supra-rational—performed solely because it is the will and command of the Creator—our sages have found meaning and messages behind the commandments we fulfill. There are many reasons given for blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashana. One reason is that the shofar blast when Moshiach comes will herald a time of universal understanding and recognition of Gd’s unity. We blow the shofar on Rosh Hashanah to remind us of Gd’s unity.

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From an article by Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone

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The prime minister of Israel and the president of the United States are in a meeting in Washington, D.C. The prime minister notices an unusually fancy phone on a side table in the president’s private chambers.

“What is that phone for?” he asks.

“It’s my direct line to Gd.”

The president insists that the prime minister try it out, and indeed he is connected to G-d. The prime minister holds a lengthy discussion with Him.

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After hanging up, the prime minister says, “Thank you very much. I want to pay for my phone charges.” The president, of course, refuses. The prime minister is steadfast, and finally the president gives in. He checks the counter on the phone and says: “All right, the charges are $100,000.” The prime minister gladly signs a check.

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A few months later, the president is in Jerusalem on an official visit. In the prime minister’s chambers he sees a phone identical to his, and learns it also is a direct line to Gd. The president remembers he has an urgent matter, and asks if he can use the phone. The prime minister gladly agrees, hands him the phone, and the president chats away.

After hanging up, the president offers to pay for the phone charges. The prime minister looks at the phone counter and says: “One shekel.” The president looks surprised: “Why so cheap?”

The prime minister smiles: “Local call.”

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On Rosh Hashanah, I think of Gd as within earshot’s distance of my whispering lips. These thoughts help elicit a more authentic prayer from me. It is not by coincidence that the reading of Haazinu, the portion that is always read in proximity to the High Holy Days, explains our connection to Gd as that of being bound by rope! Deuteronomy 32:9 reads: “Because Gd’s portion is His people; Jacob is the rope of His inheritance.”

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The analogy of a rope, whose upper end is bound above and the lower below, is compared to the soul, where the upper end is bound above and the lower end is enclothed in the body, explains Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in the Tanya.

There are many profound implications, and lessons, of the rope imagery described in Haazinu:

a) Just as a rope is comprised of many strands, our relationship with Gd is multifaceted, multisensory, and its complexity is what gives it strength.

b) Each of the 613 mitzvot is a thread of a greater rope that keeps us intensely connected to Gd. Unfortunately, neglecting a mitzvah causes some strands to disconnect and the entire rope to weaken.

c) A tug on the bottom of a rope will bring down the top of the rope, too. The implication is that everything I do affects Gd Himself. He is the other end of my rope. When I fall, I drag Him down.

Now, that last note is a frightening thought. It makes Gd seem vulnerable. But according to Kabbalah, Gd apportioned some of His creative life force to holy creations, called kedushah; and some of those powers he “threw down over His back” to vitalize the currents that run antithetical to Him, the sitra achara. When I use my Gd-given energy to behave inappropriately, I am actually re-appropriating Gd’s life force by transferring the holy energy invested in me to the realm of sitra achara. And finally:

d) Gd is with us even when we have fallen. The rope ensures that we are never in crisis alone. Just like a parent who sits compassionately with a filthy child, Gd is pained by our struggles and eagerly awaits our return to Him.

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Rochel Holzkenner

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