Rosh Hashana can be a tough day, to say the least, especially for members of the religious LGBTQ+ community. All the discourse on sins and punishment that exists throughout the year and may be used wrongly or hurtfully is amplified by a hundred during the Ten Days of Repentance.
This year may be even more difficult. Many will refrain or be forbidden from holding large festive meals or large, central prayer services. Many will be unable to meet with friends and loved ones. Each one will celebrate on their own. A day that can sadly isolate us has become even more lonely.
Alongside this is all the hate and rage and division in the world recently, in Israel and the US and around the world. Riots, protests, struggle, lockdowns, isolation: this is certainly a “יום נורא ואיום” (awesome and terrible day).
And yes, this is a dark and troublesome time. But it’s also Rosh Hashana. It’s also a holiday. And even with the difficulties and the lockdowns and isolation and anger, it’s important to remember this: Rosh Hashana is a day (technically “days”) of endings, but also, and perhaps more importantly, a day of beginnings.
It is the day that closes the year and begins the judgement of each and every one of us. It is the day that brings fear of the end but also the hope for a good end. “Rabbi Yitzchak said ‘Any year that is poor [rasha] and troubled at its beginning will be made rich at its end.’” (Rosh Hashana 16b)
It is the day beginning the new year with new opportunities and new hopes. It is the day that opens a new page that will be ready to be sealed in another 12 months.
It is a day of crying out. A day of creation. A day of destruction. A day of questions. A day of answers. A day that is not so certain that is waiting for us to decide where we will write and seal this year and next year. Quite simply, it’s complicated.
So, what when we stand in a minyan or in our homes on this “awesome and terrible day,” what can we think about? What can we hope for?
I believe that this is an excellent time to think about the crazy year we’ve had. To think about what we lost and what was missing and what was difficult but, at the same time, to think about what was new and added and good and joyous and what we can hope for in the upcoming new year that will, G-d willing, enter over the weekend for the good.
Yes, there’s a difficult and cruel pandemic. There is and was disappointing and maddening politics, a lack of unity and a lack of hope.
But there are also good things. Yeah, there were no Pride parades, but there were Pride events in Israel and around the world online and in small groups that perhaps created more unity in the LGBTQ+ community than parades ever did. There weren’t holiday meals or large services or gatherings, but there were long-overdue incredible showings of the recognition of the work done by the people working tirelessly to save lives in hospitals around the world. The difficult period made us all more aware of the difficulties those in need go through every day. From a lot of bad came a lot of good.
So yes, this year sucked in many ways. But from these struggles came a lot of power. From within this hate and conflict came a lot of unity. We understood a lot of important things this year, like the difficulty of being alone and the precious value of life, friends, loved ones and communities.
So when we come to prayers or sit to think or whatever each one chooses to do on this Day of Judgement, we have a few options: We can take all the bad, the hopelessness and difficulties from the surface or we can dig a little deeper and find the gems of unity, love, and hope hiding under the thin veil of the bad parts of the year. The pen to sign and seal the page is in our hands.
May we all be written and signed for life, a good year, health and may we all have a joyous and meaningful Yom Tov.
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