As I sit here re-reading this Yom Kippur reflection, I notice that this may be overwhelming for some, it discusses requirements of arranged marriage and the practice of hair-shaving for religious purposes. Please read with care and put it aside if it stirs up too much. 

I am not one of those people who look at the New Year as a time to write up goals or resolutions. To me the Jewish New Year has always been about reflecting, noticing where I am, what is working, and what I would like to change. It is a time to observe what is, and figure out where to go from there.

In the Book of Esther, which is read on the Jewish holiday of Purim, we find that after Esther finds out about the plot to kill the Jews she invites her husband, the king, as well as his advisor Haman to a banquet.  

On Sunday afternoon, the Eve of Rosh Hashanah, I found myself driving down to the southern New Jersey cemetery where my maternal grandparents are buried. It is customary to go to the graves of loved ones before the High Holidays, but I rarely actually do this ritual. I have been known to visit loved one’s burial sites on their Yahrtzeit (the anniversary of their death). 

People are looking at their lives and asking themselves, does this work for me?Does what I have always done feed me? Nourish me? Allow me to be who I want to be in the world?

As I sit down to write this reflection, I am struck by the dichotomies that have become an everyday occurrence in this past year. What does it mean to put on a mask on Purim when we have spent the entire year masked? What does it mean to be showing more of ourselves when most of us have seen into each other’s homes virtually? We’ve been into the homes of our bosses, our colleagues, our therapists, and even our clergy, where we probably would never have been invited physically.

It’s been quite a year…. some of us have lost jobs or our livelihoods, some of us have been sick, far too many of us have we have lost loved ones and had to grapple with how to mourn without community, and we have struggled with how to be there from afar for those who mourn.

Beginning on the second night of Passover, Jews begin the counting of the Omer. We count every evening for 49 days; a full seven weeks, and on the 50th evening we celebrate the holiday of Shavuot.  Shavuot is the holiday in which we commemorate receiving the Torah - the ten commandments on Mount Sinai. We celebrate our acceptance of the contract when we collectively said, "Yes!" 

As I prepare for Passover, I think about what it means to me this year and I notice that I have no idea. It feels so different than years past. We’ll have a small seder without many of the dishes we usually make, our friends won’t be gracing our table, and for the first time in her life - our youngest daughter will not be coming home. 

I personally have always had a hard time with the celebration and the Holiday of Purim. To start, I never enjoyed going around all over town delivering Mishloach Manos (baskets of food to others) the drinking, or the drunk drivers on the road. The story itself is a violent one. A man kills his wife because she refuses to put on a show for his friends. He selects a new wife who has no choice but to marry him. One group of people blame another group for the problems of the time, leading to a civil war, where the people kill each other in order to stay alive.