What's left?

I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage.

—Erma Bombeck

Acts of kindness are greater than charity since they can be done for both the rich and poor
—Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon [Maimonides])

Rosh HaShana - the Jewish New Year - is arguably the most important holiday in the Jewish calendar. It's packed with ritual, symbolism, community, family, and more. 

Yet Rosh HaShana has different meaning for different people. 

For some people the most important part of the day is the prayer services. Not prayer, per se, but the services: How long each part takes; who sings in key and who doesn't; what tune is used for which Psalm, and why that one?? Nobody knows that one! Why don't they use the tune I learned in Grade 4?; Who takes too long and who hurries along too fast and nobody can keep up; which shul has the best Shofar blower, maybe we should go there. 

For other people, new clothes are what makes the holiday. The entire family is kitted out in brand new apparel, from shoes to hats. It's important to them to have something new for the holiday, and they go to shul walking tall (if stiffly in the new shoes). I understand that, in some parts of Old Countries, new clothes were very important for the Tashlich service of the holiday, when friends gathered together to walk to the nearest source of fresh water. It was a see and be seen sort of situation, where new alliances were made, and therefore, looking one's best was paramount. Here, in the Holy Land, where fresh sources of water are not exactly abundant and we usually complete tashlich in the nearest available sink, this custom is somewhat less social and more ritual. 

What we do have here in Israel, and what is perhaps the most important aspect of the holiday to many families, is gift giving. Most employers give gifts to their employees prior to the holiday, which can range from a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate to an expensive set of pots or a slide set for the kids. Over the years, we've received such items as a bread maker and an air fryer, sheets, a slow cooker, a set of carving knives, and bottles of whiskey. There's even a hammock somewhere in our house. This year, I got a steam iron (I hate ironing) and a boom box. My son received a gas grill. 

Some people choose their place of employment by what they receive on Rosh HaShana. Why work for someone who is going to give you a set of books on gardening, when you can work for someone who is going to give you a necklace, bracelet, and earring set? 

In addition, for the entire month before the holiday, stores are full to bursting with merchandise to purchase as gifts for your nearest and dearest. There is even a gift fair where I work, where craftsmen of various kinds set up booths to sell name plaques, wooden toys, handbags, flavored coffee and tea, halva, embroidered bibs, and crazy socks.  Gifts for your mother, gifts for your father-in-law, gifts for your cousin's neighbor who once said good morning to you. To everyone's credit, the emphasis really is on giving rather than receiving. 

Family is very important on any holiday. My co-workers report on family dinners of 50, 75, even 100 people. Sometimes, they gather in a restaurant, but more often, they gather in Grandma's 56 meter apartment, everyone bringing their signature dish and their own chairs. They share gossip, laughter, fights, 'why aren't you married yet', 'why are you still married to that good-for-nothing', 'have some (fill in the name of some cultural delicacy the ingredients of which comprise a dead animal, an onion, flour, and a drop of lemon juice that makes all the difference) you-know-mine-is-better-than-your-mother's-don't-tell-her-I-said-that'. There are cute babies, and your cousin's horrid 11-year-old kicking you under the table, and Uncle Yankele who always falls asleep at the table despite Aunt Yenta's best efforts at keeping him awake (NU YANKELE, WAKE UP, DON'T BE RUDE. AS IF YOU DIDN'T SLEEP TWO HOURS THIS AFTERNOON WHILE I MADE THIS STUFFED KISHKE YOU DON'T GET ANYTHING LIKE THIS IN ANY FANCY RESTAURANT.) 

For me, personally, Rosh HaShana has always been about the food. 

I grew up with a mother, of blessed memory, who would spend weeks preparing gefilte fish, blintzes and knishes, chopped liver, four different kinds of chicken, a turkey, and honey cake(s).  She would bring more and more food out to guests from her bottomless kitchen until at least two belt buckles burst open. Only then would she be satisfied that she had enough food. She herself never ate anything until the last guest had gone, holding a bag of leftovers in one hand and their pants up with the other.  

While, I do not have exactly the same experiences as my mother did, I still can't fathom friends' Facebook posts I see a day before the holiday asking for a honey cake recipe, or saying they will begin to cook that evening so they will be off Facebook for a few hours, or (astonishingly) that Rosh HaShana is tomorrow and they haven't even gone shopping yet!!! 

In a disorganized year, I begin my Rosh HaShana Excel file the day after Tisha b'Av (six weeks before). In a good year, it's the day after Pesach. I have separate pages for ingredients to buy, recipes to try (and alternate recipes when I fail), meal plans, guest lists, a list of 'simanim', seating arrangements, and napkin folding options. 

Shopping takes numerous trips and various stores. Ingredients crowd my kitchen cupboards so the doors don't close, and my freezer is full of frozen meats by the end of summer. 

While I might have as many people in my house as my mother, none of them are knish eaters, which is for the best, as I am not a knish maker. But I don't feel comfortable unless there are four kinds of cake, three kinds of cookies, seven different salads, fourteen different vegetable side dishes, and soup. and pickles. and humous and tehina, because, hey, this is Israel.  

I get a bit of flak on the amount of food I prepare and serve. But, to me, it's the food that makes the holiday, and I honestly can't help myself. Also, my mother, along with how to make chicken soup, taught me the art of freezing. I don't have to cook again for weeks. 

Rosh HaShana 5781 was a very special event. Israel, being in lockdown, looked drastically different. Many shuls were closed, and those that were open had a much smaller attendance (our own shul struggled with a minyan, having asked people to make up their own in members' yards). How long the services lasted and who sang which tunes in or out of key became irrelevant. Same with showing off new clothes; nobody was around to see them. Many people didn't even leave the house. As for large family gatherings, most people are being cautious and not meeting in groups. Gifts from work were still forthcoming, but if you weren't seeing your mother-in-law for chag, there was no need for extensive gift giving. And while I still made a massive amount of food, our small family didn't make a dent in it. 

After all this, what's left of the holiday? 

Once communal prayer, gifts, family, and food have been eliminated, what remains? 

After we brush away the non-essentials, we can see what endures. 

Faith and Hope in a new beginning remain.

Generosity remains. 

Tolerance remains.

Kindness remains. 

Forgiveness remains. 

Let's make this year count.