Shanah Tovah

It’s a New Year. Shana Tovah!

I can’t help but think about how my people (Americans, Jews, the educated, homos, Latinos, youth, etc.) esteem "newness" so highly. That which is "new," this year, for example, is looked forward to with resolutions and promises. New relationships are the steamiest, the most fun, and the most memorable. When newness fades, we are left with its foe, contempt-breeding familiarity.

Why is this so? Do we crave the mystery of "newness?" Do we like the experience of learning about the "new?" Are we just a restless race, perpetually in need of the "new?" Is "tradition" the antithesis of "newness?" Are today’s liberals the harbingers of "newness," while conservatives remain advocates of the ancient? Would it be a surprise if I took a stand against the "new?"

Okay, I don’t really want to take a stand against it. I just want to challenge it. What’s so wrong with what I’ve done this past year? Why should I look forward to a new year (forgetting momentarily all the new clothes and accessories)? I am going to think about this.

There would be a serious omission here if I didn’t state how badly I want to call Jared. These holidays, Shabbatot, and evenings have become so unbearable. Despite all that I know about him, the "old," if you will, provides some comfort. I wonder if he’s thinking about me in the same way, just like the week-end of my birthday when he was relieved that I invited him over.

I wanted to begin this year anew, with no mention of old beaux; that would be dishonest of me. "Newness," at least in this case, doesn’t roll in on the other side of Rosh HaShanah services. No, "newness," like all healing and second chances, comes gradually amidst a tempest of emotions. Right now, I am in the eye of the storm.

Shavua tov.