By Carol Ann Schwartz
Every year on the erev, I host a family Rosh Hashanah dinner. It’s so special, bringing together the cycle of the year and the cycle of the family, from one generation to the next.
Family is important to me — my family by blood, by choice and my Hadassah family. My holiday table is a tapestry of our family’s history and traditions — recipes from my mother (z"l), my aunt’s challah ritual, a pot of honey at each place setting, my chocolate babka waiting for dessert (with an extra loaf for my son and his partner to take home). We sit as a family: older and younger, cousins and aunts, nephews and daughters, those who attend High Holy Day services and those who do not.
Each year at our table, our conversations are the same yet totally different, as we talk about what’s happening in the world and with us, and how we feel about both. And perhaps most significantly, we talk about how we will grow, as individuals, and what we will do in the new year. Every year, we each resolve to do good in a new way. This is how I honor my parents, my grandparents, Hadassah, my family, my friends. And the next generations.
As we welcome the sweetness of the new year, we hold in our hearts those missing — those separated from their families by distance, by death, by war. We hold in our hearts the hostages still held by Hamas and pray for their release.
In the words of Hungarian-born Zionist, poet and paratrooper Hannah Senesh: “There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark.” She is one of those lights, revered by many in our Hadassah family, and an inspiration to us all.
There are, of course, big ways that each of us can help. Alongside Hadassah members, volunteers and supporters, I’ve worked to advance Hadassah founder Henrietta Szold’s legacy of action and healing. That’s something I’m committed to continuing. I hope you are, too. But on Rosh Hashanah, it’s the smaller things — the personal commitment to doing better as an individual — that I find especially meaningful.
This year, my resolution is to call more people to wish them a good Shabbes. Connecting person to person is more important than ever, when so many of us feel isolated or too busy, or when it’s easy to let a “like” stand in for real human contact.
I hope in your own way, you too are committing to doing good, to small acts of lovingkindness (gemilut hasadim, in Hebrew). We begin Rosh Hashanah by lighting candles, drawing from an already existing flame. Let each of us do all we can to build light for those who come after us.
L’shanah tovah.
