Last night on our way home, my three-year-old son looked up into the sky and announced, “The moon is half full!” I had to look up and double check because of the thud I felt in my stomach at his words. “The moon is half full,” I thought, “Then there’s only three weeks left until Rosh HaShanah.”

No matter how early I start to prepare for the High Holy Days, I never feel as though there was enough time to prepare as thoroughly as I would have liked. No matter how many times I check the dates on the calendar, Rosh HaShanah always seems to sneak up on me and occur sooner than I had expected. Perhaps that’s because I’m a big procrastinator, or perhaps it’s a part of the very nature of the High Holy Days.

We have spent this last month discussing preparation for change. I believe it is not possible to change without preparation, and yet once the preparation is done there’s really nothing more to do, except actually change. The longer the preparation goes on (or the more preparation one puts into it), the longer the change itself might be postponed. Thus there is something very important and necessary about having a date on the calendar for change.
 
The time we have now is for Heshbon Hanefesh (accounting of our souls) or our preparation time. Rosh HaShanah is our “change start” date, and Yom Kippur is our “change conclusion” date. Perhaps without those hard dates we might only spend our time in self examination, only preparing for t’shuvah (turning) but never actually getting around to it. This season requires us to schedule our soul clearing and mark it as a high priority.

But even with all the reminders—the phases of the moon, the shofar blasts, the envelopes containing High Holy Day tickets—only those people who regularly spend their days examining their behavior and working to change it will feel fully prepared when they look up in the sky and see the new moon of Rosh HaShanah has arrived. Personally, I can only continue to work toward becoming that kind of a person; until then, my preparation continues.

L’shanah tovah tikateivu, may you all be written in the Book of Life for a New Year full of sweetness and blessing.

In her psalm for Rosh HaShanah, Debbie Perlman z”l wrote:

Begin the cycle anew!
Turn and grow
Beneath the eye of the Eternal.

You bring us to beginnings,
Yearly, weekly, daily,
That we might be renewed,
Restrengthened, refreshed.

Begin the cycle anew!
Turn and share
The bounty of the Eternal.

You point the path
Away from past errors;
You clear the debris of regret
Away from present progress.

Begin the cycle anew!
Turn and walk,
Hand grasping hand.

Begin the cycle anew!
Start from today, from this moment.
Start from the waking that offers change.
Rise from waking to move forward.

Begin the cycle anew!
Begin from the Center that is constant;
Begin with the Care that never ceases.
Begin.

(from Flames to Heaven: New Psalms for Healing & Praise, 1998, Rad Publishers, Wilmette, IL  www.healingpsalm.com)

In our tradition, Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the world, the beginning of the year, and the beginning of our opportunity to make things better. The process of t’shuvah involves soul-searching, attempts to reconcile our grievances, and facing God with readiness to change. Heshbon hanefesh is the beginning of the t’shuvah process. We start with the self and then radiate out from there. The process can be painful or refreshing or both. When we forgive someone for a wrong done to us and let go of our anger, it can feel like a great burden has been lifted off our soul. We do not necessarily excuse the wrong but we move beyond it. We allow ourselves the relief that forgiveness provides. And we ask for forgiveness, admitting our own mistakes or intentional hurts, and try to heal the wounds we have inflicted.

T’shuvah is hard work, and sometimes the hardest thing is to begin. We hesitate, we backslide, we deny, we reject, we ignore; we do everything we can to avoid facing our own shortcomings.  We know that we are imperfect and that we need to change, but change can be frightening. It upsets our equilibrium and threatens our certainty. But life is change—only death is static and permanent. We change and we grow and (God willing) we improve. But we need to begin. We move forward; we continue the cycle. We must begin.

May this New Year bring growth and change and renewal for us and those we love.  May it be a year of life and peace for us, for Israel, and for all the world.