Another New YearNo, it's not January yet, or even December. But on the evening of September 28, Jews around the world began celebrating the Jewish New Year, a two-day celebration followed 10 days later by the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur. What I remember most about the high holidays from my childhood, at least in concrete terms, are the clothes and the fast. And the fear. Clothes first: As in many middle-class Jewish families, the high holidays were the occasion for purchasing your new winter outfit. Singular. And given that it was New England, a winter outfit would have to be warm and wool. So year after year, when it turned out that winter did not come by September (and it usually didn't), the high holidays were, in a word, sweaty. I remember the itchy wool, which for reasons I never quite understood (keeping up with the Golds?) was still considered better than showing up in a shabby shift. Yom Kippur was tougher still: hot and hungry (from the sunset-to-sunset fast) and scary, as well. On Yom Kippur, we ask for forgiveness. We have a special service for those we have lost. On Yom Kippur, it is written who shall live and who shall die. These days, I go to services in places where there is no clothes competition. These days, not eating for a day is easy. These days, I understand that the Book of Life is not really a book but an idea about taking stock, being grateful, accepting the uncertainty that is life. I am grateful for these days, rare days for me, when I don't work at my jobs, when no one expects me at three places at once, when the phone hardly rings. I am grateful to be here, alive, healthy, employed, to have children and family I love more than life.
When I was a kid, I used to watch my mother light a candle in memory of her mother and go alone to the special memorial service for those who had lost a loved one. I lived in fear that someday I would go to that service myself, and then someday came so soon, so many years ago, when my father died. So now I light four candles, for my father and my mother and for my dearest friends Judy and Kath. Now I count my blessings, and I count my losses. For me, the high holidays are a gift, but they are also a challenge that grows each year. The challenge is to face life's uncertainties clear-eyed but undefeated; to accept life's disappointments without succumbing to the sadness; to embrace and be grateful for all that I have without being terrified by its fragility. I think back to those days in my hot and itchy dress cinched at the waist, my stomach growling, and I long for what seems like lost innocence. I long for the days when I had no candles to light, no loved ones to remember, when I could almost believe that the Book of Life was real and that, if I prayed hard enough, all the names of those I love would be written in bold ink. On the other New Year's Eve, we worry about having a date or a party to go to, about who will win the football games, and whether it will rain on the parades. On the other New Year's Eve, we vow not to drink too much and resolve to lose weight and exercise. On the Jewish New Year, we pray for our souls. Happy New Year. Shana tova. You don't have to be Jewish to understand what it means to pray for your soul, to ask for forgiveness, to embrace life — sadness and all — with courage and character, and most of all, to be grateful. May the Lord bless us and keep us and cause His countenance to shine upon us and grant us peace. Amen. To find out more about Susan Estrich and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com. COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM
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