The mountain winds rush through me as I gaze out over the lights of Jerusalem. It is a new year. The shofar has echoed through the valleys, and re-awakened my soul. We've fasted, we've prayed, we've rejoiced. Now, it is a time for new beginnings.
Since I arrived here, every day has been a new beginning. Each morning, the thrill of living shakes me out of bed, and sends me, flying, into the brilliant dawn. I expected the Holidays to be the same. But the past two weeks have flown by in a whirlwind of reflection, loneliness, sadness, joy, and celebration. Rosh Hashanah came and went. I spent it with family, but missed home. I missed the familiar sights, and smells. I missed hearing my Cantor's perfect tenor, leading the congregation to a new level of spiritual awareness through song and prayer. I missed the english pages in prayer books. I kept thinking "back home, we do this. Back home, it's like that." And then I would realize that I came here for new experiences, and a great joy would flood through me. The thrill of living would be back, and I'd feel grateful for whatever new experience I had been blessed with.
But it wasn't enough. I struggled to maintain that level of joy. I felt lost, and somewhat unfulfilled by how I had observed the holidays.
On Yom Kippur, hours before the sounding of the shofar, I walked to the Old City with friends. As I approached the Kotel, my heart began to race. The air was buzzing with spiritual awe. You could sense the weight of everyone's prayers, dangling in mid-air. I felt humbled to walk among them, and began to feel the depth of my own thoughts settling into my heart. The thrill of living had fluttered it's way back into my soul. The promenade was scattered with people, anxiously awaiting dusk, their empty stomaches growling in protest. We were hungry, tired, and hot. As I observed the crowd, I realized that we had come from all walks of life to welcome the New Year. We had all willingly deprived ourselves of nourishment throughout the day, and now we all stood, humbled before God, at the Holiest site in Israel. We were the same. We were all exactly the same. I felt my heart begin to swell with love, and then it suddenly occurred to me. I was standing before The Kotel on Yom Kippur. I stopped in my tracks, and inhaled my surroundings. As the sweet air filled my lungs, my heart split open, and a great love for everyone and everything around me spilled out. I felt whole. Every molecule of my being was filled with love. I exhaled, and continued walking towards the Wall.
Women embraced the ancient stones, channeling prayers through their fingertips. Men began to dance, their voices raised in prayer. And there I stood, among it all. My soul felt as if it could burst. "Yes!" I thought, "this is what I was waiting for. This is what I was craving." I joined the women, embracing the Wall as if it were an old friend. "Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam shecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higyanu lazman hazeh."
Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.
Tears streamed down my face, as I whispered my prayers, shared my soul, and opened my heart.
Then a mighty cry broke through the night. That blast, the call that rouses the spirit, and churns the waters of consciousness shook us from our prayers. It echoed through the valleys of Jerusalem, and our bodies absorbed the sound as it moved through us. Time stopped. We were soaring. We were alive. The blast of the shofar pulled us from our slumber, and sent us, flying into the new year.
And then I recalled how only two days before, I had stood in silence with people from all over the world to mark the twelfth anniversary of the September 11 attacks. I was so young, and my world had been shaken by evil. I thought about how beautiful that morning had been, and how none of the victims had known it would be their last.
Then the shofar sounded again, and it brought me back to life. It demanded my attention, grabbed me by my shoulders and shouted "Live, fool! Witness the universe. See, understand, weep, and celebrate. You have one moment. Go, live!" It's cry echoed in my mind, it's message sank into my bones. I felt peace in my soul. I felt cleansed. Prepared. Ready to begin a new year, with a new awareness of the beautiful miracle of my existence.
On the walk back to the student village to break the fast, I felt as though I were flying. My stomach was empty, but my heart was full. I was overjoyed, and overwhelmed by the sheer wonder of everything around me, and I realized that when you look at the world with your heart, instead of your head, you see more. There is more beauty, more joy, and more love. As I move forward into the New Year, I can see a world of possibility. Friends, I wish you only joy in this new year. Joy, love, beauty, wonder, success, happiness, and everything that comes along with it. Look at the beautiful things in your life. The miracles. Seek the extraordinary, in the ordinary. Let the winds of change move through you, and tickle your soul. Let it make you dance. And seek joy. Always, always seek joy. Embrace this new year, and all the potential it offers.
Chag Sameach, everyone!
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