Some Reflections on Having a Rejuvenating New Year
In a few short days, the High Holidays will be upon us, and we will be celebrating Rosh Hashanah. Among many other things, Rosh Hashanah is viewed as commemorating the creation of the world; and, consequently, some synagogues opt to read a selection from parashat b’reishit—the creation story—on the afternoon of the 1st or 2nd day of the holiday.
Each time I make my way through this narrative, specifically where it describes how God’s creation of Shabbat takes place, I think of the following two words from Exodus[1] which describe this special day’s origins: shavat va-yinafash. These words—which I’ll try to translate in just a moment—are noteworthy for how they beautifully intertwine Rosh Hashanah and the themes of Creation. They provide for the last day of b’reishit what sociologists might call a “thick description”; they don’t just tell us what God did, but also give detail to help us understand God’s fuller experience.
In fact, the odd thing about God’s establishment of Shabbat in the so-called “creation narrative” is that God creates this day by not creating anything. Hence the first word of shavat va-yinafash: Shavat literally means to desist, to stop, or to rest. The second word of the phrase, though, is harder to translate than the former. Nevertheless, it is the one more important to grasp in order to have that thickness of understanding for both the creation story and its tie-in to Rosh Hashanah. L’hi-nafeish, the passive verb that va-yinafash comes from, literally means—to use an unusual term—to be en-souled; that is, to be endowed with soul. Apparently, when God took a moment to consider the things God had just done, God had the experience of coming alive, anew. It would seem to be that, even for God, it can be refreshing to take a moment to pause and reflect on the past.
Luckily for us, that is precisely what a Jew is supposed to do during this time of the calendar. In these days of introspection, we are supposed to consider what we’ve done right and what we’ve done wrong; we’re supposed to make amends; we’re supposed to give ourselves a fresh slate for the new year, and, thus, restore our souls to equilibrium; and, at the end of all this, we’re supposed to feel energized and ready for the year ahead of us.
The New Year in Judaism—and, by extension, the entire period of the High Holidays—gives us an opportunity to refresh ourselves. If we follow the “process,” the rituals, associated with this time of year, we too—like God after creating the world—can feel as though we are renewed, “ensouled.” As with God after the creation, we after the High Holidays can feel refreshed, as though we’ve just woken from a perfectly restful night of sleep. We can enter the year fifty-seven-seventy-nine with the wisdom and experience that come from five-thousand-seven-hundred-and-seventy-nine years of life, but, simultaneously, with the youthful optimism, vigor, and thirst for discovery that come from having only experienced creation yesterday.
Wishing everyone a shanah tovah, metukah, and m’nufash, a good, sweet, and soulful new year!
[1] Ex. 31:17