As I write these words, the night has fallen on the day before Rosh Hashanah. I open the mahzor, like seeing an old friend. It feels so familiar, words recited by my parents, and their parents. Just three generations ago, in Poland. Two generations ago in Philadelphia, one generation ago in New York, and now I stand here in Los Angeles. The locations change, the environment changes, the world this year has changed as we know it. And yet, the page numbers remain the same, the melodies remain the same, and the traditions remain the same.
Tonight, we will raise a glass of wine and recite kiddush. “With love You have bestowed on us, Adonai, this Day of Remembrance. Rosh Hashanah is called Yom Hazikaron.”
This year we must remember the hundreds of thousands whose physical presence is no longer with us, but whose lives will add meaning to our lives and our communities. This year, we must remember what was in order to remember what will be.
As my 6-year-old son muttered to me before bed tonight, “Abba, did you know that without a past there is no future?”
That is why we have Rosh Hashanah. To remember the past so that our prayers will God-willing lead to a brighter future in the year ahead.
Shana Tova
