As Rosh Hashanah approaches this year, I find myself in a vastly different mental and emotional space than ever before. The events of October 7th have cast a shadow that is impossible to ignore, altering how I view the world, my faith, and the rituals that once brought me comfort.

October 7th marked a day of profound loss and upheaval. Whether directly impacted or not, the collective trauma of that day is something every Jewish person carries with them. For me, it has been a time of grappling with grief, fear, and a renewed understanding of vulnerability. This Rosh Hashanah, the usual anticipation of a fresh start is tempered by the lingering pain of recent events.

In previous years, Rosh Hashanah was a time to focus on personal growth and introspection, a celebration of life and new beginnings. But now, the memories of those lost and the anxieties about an uncertain future make it difficult to embrace the holiday with the same joy. The shofar's call, which once stirred feelings of renewal and hope, now also resonates with the sorrow and urgency of these times.

Despite the heaviness in my heart, this Rosh Hashanah feels more important than ever. The sense of community has grown stronger in the face of shared adversity. The support, solidarity, and resilience of those around me have been a source of strength, reminding me that even in the darkest times, we are not alone.

This year, the holiday is not just about my personal journey but also about our collective one. There’s a heightened sense of responsibility to contribute to the healing process, to be there for others, and to work towards a future where such tragedies are not repeated. The prayers for peace, which have always been a part of the Rosh Hashanah service, now carry a weight that is both immediate and profound.

While the grief and pain of October 7th are still fresh, Rosh Hashanah also brings with it a chance to find hope. It is a reminder that life continues, that we must honor the memory of those we’ve lost by living fully and with purpose. The themes of renewal and repentance take on a deeper meaning, as I reflect on how to move forward, both personally and as part of a larger community.

This year, as I dip the apple in honey, the sweetness is bittersweet. It is a reminder that life is a mix of joy and sorrow, and that we must strive to find balance even when the scales tip heavily toward the latter. The symbolic acts of the holiday-casting off sins into the water, listening to the shofar, and sharing meals with loved ones-are more than traditions; they are acts of defiance and resilience.

As I approach this Rosh Hashanah, I do so with a heart full of mixed emotions. The events of October 7th have changed me, and the holiday will not be the same. But perhaps that is okay. This Rosh Hashanah will be a time to honor those changes, to acknowledge the pain, and to find ways to move forward with intention.

In the face of such profound loss, the act of gathering with loved ones, of praying, of hoping for a better year, feels like an act of courage. It is a way to affirm life, to seek meaning, and to remind ourselves that even in the darkest times, the possibility of renewal remains.

This Rosh Hashanah will be different, and I will be different. But in that difference, there is also the potential for growth, for healing, and for finding a new path forward. May we all find the strength to embrace it.

Photo by Alexandra Wieser