In Hebrew, the word “rosh” means head. As the headwaters of a river are where the river begins, the head of the year is where the year begins. And “shanah” which we know to mean year, also holds hints of another word in its word-root: shinui, which means change. Therefore, Rosh haShanah can be understood as the beginning of the change. So it was for Judaism, when Nehemiah instituted the public reading and explanation of Torah, to build a community around God’s teachings. At that time, the first day of the seventh month, Tishrei, was not known as Rosh haShanah, as it is today. We are told by the book of Nehemia:
“It was the first day of the seventh month – the first of Tishrei – the whole community was gathered: men, women, children and those who could understand. Ezra the scribe stood on the wooden tower that they had made for this purpose, he opened the book, blessed God, and they read from the book of God’s teachings, expounding, and giving reasons, and they explained what was read.” This was the first time that Torah was publicly read to the congregation. It was not the first change that was necessary to be made in Jewish practice, and not the last. And although some of these changes were imposed by adversities, they helped Judaism to be shaped into what we know it to be today. These changes enabled Judaism to survive and spread all over the world.
Change can be good or bad, but it is difficult to find it without any kind of pain or struggle during the process. The epitome of change is the caterpillar, that becomes a beautiful butterfly, but needs to go through a cocoon period in between. Change is about the choices we make, of how we decide to react to the realities that are in front of us, but also about the consequences of past choices that led us to be here and now.
In my life, and in the life of my family, a huge change happened one year ago, when we moved to London. We had perfect reasons to move: I was pursuing my dream, my husband was after a new challenge in his work, and we were hoping that my daughter would profit with the huge change. However, to move here, we had to close a chapter of 20 years of our lives. We had to sell things, rent the house, leave the place where our children were born and where we had so many beautiful moments together. Our families stayed there, and we had to learn to live far away. After two months, both my father and my mother had health problems, and I had to fly back to Brazil. We learned that we can go back when necessary. One year has passed, we are all happy to be here, life is good, weather is not a problem, my daughter has friends and good grades at school, and we have all we need to make a good Brigadeiro whenever we need a taste from home. However, now, my mom is sick in Brazil, and I am here. I can’t go back, and it hurts.
This is a shana of shinui – a year of change. It is the last High Holidays that we will use this machzor, from which this congregation has prayed since 1985, as a new one will soon be published by the Reform Movement. In each page there are memories of Yamim Noraim from the past: notes, small papers, marks of the time past. We are saying goodbye to our machzorim and all the memories that they bring to us. It is the first year that we are going to be together in one space, a different space, not in our beloved building. This is a change that has been planned since last year’s High Holidays, was a subject of uncountable meetings, with so many people involved. Tomorrow we are leaving our building and, with it, the tradition of having two simultaneous services during the High Holidays. It is a huge change! We will be together, for all our services, for the first time.
Change makes us look back and pounder about our choices, what we gained and what we lost. There is always some loss and pain involved in the process of change. There is uncertainty and fear. However, giving up, lamenting, and never being satisfied are curses of which we were just reminded when we read parashat Ki Tavo.
Impermanence is the reality: everything changes all the time. We can never step back into the same river, because water is ever flowing and we are in constant change, as teaches the Greek philosopher Heraclitus. We can try to resist change, but it will lead to exhaustion and, in the case of communities, extinction. To properly navigate through changes, we need to know our core values, be determined but also flexible.
In the words of North American author Brad Stulberg: "To thrive in our lifetimes — and not just survive — we need to transform our relationship with change, leaving behind rigidity and resistance in favour of a new nimbleness, a means of viewing more of what life throws at us as something to participate in, rather than fight. We are always shaping and being shaped by change, often at the very same time."
Hence, following the teaching of our ancestors, we are standing here together: men, women, children and those who can understand. During these High Holidays, we will gather around Torah, around prayer and around explanations that will help us be one big holy community, together in one place. We are at the headwaters of a river that will hopefully flow peacefully, that will irrigate new soils and harvest fruits. It won’t be free of riptides, there will be fear and sadness, but there will also be music and joy.
Shinui tov, Shanah Tovah!
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