A New Chapter In a Continuing Story

Over the years, I’ve discussed several times that there are two contrasting opinions as to when G-d first began creating the finite universe. The first, that of Rabbi Eliezer, maintains that Creation began in the month of Tishrei. The second, that of Rabbi Yehoshua, affirms that this process began in the month of Nissan. I’ve also shared how the KedushasLevi, Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchov, understands this debate, and I want to revisit his insights again now.

The Two Lights of Our Year

G-d is constantly breathing new vitality into existence. Without this Divine intervention, reality would cease to exist. This is similar to a good educator, one who is able to meet each individual student where he or she “is at” and not just where the curriculum expects all children in that grade to be in their learning journey. The KedushasLevi defines this vitality as an ohr yashar, a direct light, because of the uniquely personal relationship that develops in this particular giver-receiver dynamic.

He explains that this is best experienced during the month of Nissan, in the springtime, when we celebrate Passover. This is because when we look at the Exodus timeline, it’s hard not to feel immense personal redemption and G-d’s direct involvement in the events leading up to and following our miraculous departure from Egypt. This is why the Hebrew word for spring, Aviv, is written in alphabetical order (alef-bet-yud-bet). G-d’s love is direct and undeniably clear, and He transcends the rigid laws of nature to liberate us from slavery because of this intense love.

On the other hand, we celebrate Rosh Hashanah during the month of Tishrei, which is written in reverse alphabetical order (tet-shin-reish-yud). On Rosh Hashanah, we return to the yud, to G-dliness, which is why the vitality of Tishrei is an ohr chozer, a light of returning. This is likened to a pregnancy, which is the type of relationship that exists before anything is even born yet. This is the general connection and excitement that emerges before parents are able to build their unique relationship with their child, or when educators have been informed of what courses they’re teaching that semester but haven’t yet received their lists of students. This is why so many of our Rosh Hashanah themes and prayers are expressed in general terms. At this time of year, the entire world passes through a collective judgment as humanity strives to return to its true essence.

Essentially, it’s almost as if Rosh Hashanah is far more about continuing what came before than about turning over a page, as if we’re asked to return to the direct light of Nissan that shone six months ago. How, then, should we reconcile this idea with the visions of freshness that we so often associate with Rosh Hashanah? Does this mean that we should stop wishing each other a good, sweet new year ahead?

‘All of You’

We always read Parshas Nitzavim in the days leading up to Rosh Hashanah, because it begins, “You are standing here today, all of you, before Hashem, your G-d…” (Deut. 29:9), and our Sages explain that “today” specifically refers to the day of Rosh Hashanah. We often understand this verse as an imperative to enter into the new year together as a collective, regardless of social status, occupation, or background. We’re stronger together, and we need to stand firm in our unity and our love for our brothers and sisters. Every Jew needs to be included in the larger community.

The Tiferes Shlomo, Rebbe Shlomo of Radomsk, however, understands this verse differently, and takes it a step further. We need to stand at Rosh Hashanah not just as a unified nation, but as unified individuals. We need to stand as complete people, bringing our entire being into the new year with us. Each of us has 248 limbs and 365 sinews in our body, which correspond to the 248 positive mitzvos (Judaism’s dos) and the 365 negative mitzvos (Judaism’s don’ts). We need to embrace Rosh Hashanah with all our mitzvos – the ones we succeeded in during the previous year, and also the ones we couldn’t exactly master; the ones we related to and the ones we haven’t yet connected with; the ones that made sense and the ones that still transcend human logic.

What’s more, we’re multifaceted people, with inclinations and inner drives toward spirituality and goodness as well as toward physicality and the opposite of goodness. This doesn’t mean that either drive is entirely positive or entirely negative on its own, but rather, we need to channel both these drives toward G-dliness. To lock ourselves away in isolated spirituality and to abstain from everything physical, such as food or drink, is a recipe for disaster (and likely death). We need to make ourselves comfortable with both outlets and learn how to use both of them in balance.

Celebrating Authenticity

Rosh Hashanah asks us to be authentic. It doesn’t promise us a magical eraser that wipes away everything that was so that we can start anew now. Instead, it challenges us to bring our real, human, and genuine selves into the life that continues to unfold for us. Our past is powerful because it enables us to stand where and how we are today, but this doesn’t mean that we need to confine ourselves to our yesterdays. These experiences are opportunities for us to learn and rise higher today.

The power of the ohr chozer is that it doesn’t shine too brightly at us as the ohr yashar can sometimes seem to do. It empowers us to go about our days as wholesome people, without denying or neglecting the perceived unfavorable parts that make us who we are. Some days ahead will feel as though the sun is shining brightly and everything is working in our favor, while other days will feel overcast and gloomy, and as if nothing is happening as we hoped. We need to be true to ourselves and acknowledge how we’re feeling, and seek the support we need to get through the darker days. But G-d forbid that we should deny those moments or try to minimize their effect on us. Rosh Hashanah reassures us that G-d is sitting with us in the darkness as well and not just waiting for us to come to Him in moments of light.

Every Day Is Rosh Hashanah

In truth, we don’t need to wait for Rosh Hashanah to begin afresh. Each morning, we proclaim that G-d recreates reality anew each day. The question is: Will we bring our total self into that day, or will we neglect parts of who we are right here, right now, at the expense of perceived spirituality somewhere over there? Each day is an opportunity to continue the story that was passed down to us and advance its narrative with our own uniqueness. 

And the metaphor of the educators with which we started? Perhaps this is why we unintentionally always begin a new school year immediately preceding or right after Rosh Hashanah. As teachers far and wide are setting up their classrooms (or have already finished setting them up) for the academic year ahead, they are birthing that awesome potential for meaningful, personal, and enriched relationships with their students. We don’t always know where our students will come from, what academic skills they’re bringing with them to our learning spaces, what their families are like at home, or what challenges they’ve faced in previous years, particularly with other teachers and administrators. But we do know one thing: Each one of our students has a story to tell and a light to shine. And we need to give them the space, resources, and mentorship to shine their light – just as G-d gives each of us those opportunities in our adult lives every day.

May it be the sweetest year yet, filled with only revealed blessings and goodness – both physically and spiritually. And may we each be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for a year of truthful and authentic living – a gut ge’bentsched yahr!