Rosh Hashanah

Rosh Hashanah and Thanksgiving have a lot in common.  I came to this realization at 4 in the morning the other night, when I couldn't sleep for the endless thought train blazing through my head.  Truly though, my experiences with both holidays have always been marked with 3 classic bulwarks: eating three times my weight in the span of an hour, severe emotional turmoil, and somehow coming out the other side of the holiday with a new outlook on life.  

This year, welcoming in the new year was especially hard.  The High Holy Days with my Kol Ami family in Los Angeles are always an amazing experience.  The music is glorious, my jewish pride overflows, and for the hours I spend in Shul, no matter how long the service gets, I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be.  More than anything though, I love Rosh Hashanah back home because Kol Ami gave me an unwavering feeling of community that went so deep, that the thought of spending the New Year without it was almost unbearable.  Being in Israel, I thought I might be able to overcome my severe case of homesickness and simply let the holidays sink in, but alas, I was wrong.  Going to services and spending time with my friend Hodaya and her family was wonderful, but I couldn't shake the fact that something huge was missing.  Sitting in the women's section in a strange, orthodox synagogue was enlightening, but held no sense of the community I longed for.  Everyone seemed to drawl on with no regard for the people around them, there was almost no music, and by the time services were over, I felt exhausted and bored - a far cry from the elated feelings I was used to.  Nevertheless, one thing did bring in the New Year at the end of the day; the inspiring sounds of the shofar.  That moment was a true moment of realization.  Hearing the tikiyot, it hit me that no matter where I went, no matter what country, or what kind of temple I found myself in, certain things link Jews all over the world.  In those sounds, I was home.  I could feel the comforts of home, the promises of tomorrow, and the lessons of the past surrounding me in the joy on every stranger's face at the modern recitation of those ancient sounds.  In that moment, I remembered why I was in Israel. I came on Year Course for many reasons, but one of the biggest ones was my desire to feel immensely connected to Judaism (like I did on my last visit to the Holy Land).  My Magein David has not left my neck in three weeks, and now I'm sure it won't be leaving for the next eight months.