It’s a long-standing custom for Jews to wish one another a “sweet new year” on Rosh Hashanah; to hope that this coming year will be one filled with joy, fulfillment, and an abundance of blessings. However, Judaism isn’t a path focused simply on wishing for good things; if our goal is to make each year “sweeter” than the last, we must work to make it happen.
Related Blog Posts on Yom Kippur
This Elul, what comes to mind as I think about my own growth and what empowers me towards religious action is the work of Northeastern University’s Community Fridge.
As part of the URJ Reflection Project, a new set of offerings and experiences for the High Holidays in a time of social distance, we’ve also developed three short essays that allow you to go deeper into the essence of Jewish wisdom that grounds these rituals.
Meet 88-year-old Murray, an astounding man. Quiet, sometimes reserved, Murray became my father-in-law 31 years ago, when God softly whispered to me, “Don’t wait.” I confess I didn’t appreciate him fully until recently.
I told them, "As someone who is in the process of return to Temple Israel, I wanted to briefly share what a meaningful experience I had for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur services."
Do we see ourselves and this moment as grasshoppers, or do we jump on top of our chairs and say “Yachol nuchal, surely we can overcome this”?
At Yom Kippur, we wish one another "a safe and easy fast," but for those of us with eating disorders, it will be neither safe nor easy. It will be dangerous, but more so detrimental.
We hear the story of Jonah on Yom Kippur, as an example of the power of repentance and redemption. But my favorite thing about this story is how perfectly messy it is to heed God's call.
Remind my tired soul, I beg You / My kitchen is far too clean and the china is still in the basement / Remind me how to stop the mourning / for tables that don’t need extensions / quiet synagogues with no children to be shushed...