Today is a Holiday. And I'm not referring to the Post Labor Day Mattress Sales that are raging across the country, in suburban strip malls festooned with balloons and air tube dancers.
Today is Rosh Hashanah, aka Yom Teruah, aka Feast of the Trumpets, aka The Day of Shouting and Blasting.
Though I must say, I have several Israeli contractors putting in an outdoor deck in my backyard (a present for my wife) and they don't need a holiday for shouting. Everything they say to each other is in triple digital decibels. I'm thinking this may account for the inability to strike a peace deal in the Middle East.
I have in the past poked fun at Rosh Hashanah, as I will today, but I'm intentionally going to tread lightly as I have new friends who are deeply religious and take this stuff seriously.
I, uhhh, don't.
For me Rosh Hashanah will always conjure up childhood images of the end of Summer and my parents dragging our asses to the Monsey Jewish Center -- that's right we lived in the Mecca of America Judaism, Monsey, NY -- where we sat for 8 hours in stiff wool suits that were only carted out for high holidays, bar mitzvahs or the passing of an aunt or uncle I never knew.
My perspective on going to temple has changed.
It's more bearable on the West Coast, where the weather is more accommodating and the congregants often show up in Hawaiian shirts and summer dresses. Also, we all have iPhones now. So when the service turns to
"...David son of Solomon, married Ruth, who begat Saul, who married Esther, who begat Jedidiah, who lusted for Rebecca but married Mindy, who begat..."
I can always divert my attention to what's going in the real world of 2021 and not the genealogical family tree of 943 BC.
Did a little digging on the etymology of Rosh Hashanah, and by that I mean I went to Wikipedia. This was necessary as all my Hebrew school learning has been lost or erased by my adult ability to exercise critical thinking. The New Year was originated as a celebration of the new agricultural year, that is the cycle of sowing, growth and harvest.
I know as much about farming as I know about cricket, Shakespeare and dime store romance novels, and no idea that seeds were sown in the fall. Even in the Fertile Crescent which is in the Northern Hemisphere.
Here's what I do know, when it comes to holidays and celebrations, we don't measure up to our Abrahamic brethren. For instance, here's a picture of some foods favored by Libyan Jews to ring in the new year.
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