The Jewish New Year

The Jewish New Year.

This is the weekend before all the fun starts. In homes around the globe, the entire Jewish population will be gathering to celebrate the beginning of yet another New Year. You'd be forgiven for thinking that any New Year festivity should be accompanied by several rousing choruses of  'Auld Lang Syne', excessive consumption of alcohol, much partying into the small hours of the morning, a good, old fashioned reminder from the heavily covered Big Ben and that unforgettable fireworks display by the River Thames.

But this is the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, with its wonderful references to all the sweet things in life, a time for prayer, harmonious singing and chanting, deep reflection, a pause for breath and then whispered discussions about apples and honey. There are lavish lunchtime feasts at friends and families dining rooms, chola( plaited Jewish bread), schmaltz herring, pickled herring, fried fish, potato salad, coleslaw, all washed down with cheeky red wines and gallons of tea and coffee.

Above all Rosh Hashanah is that time when Jews from all over the world come together and remember how good it is to be Jewish. It is the Head of the Year, that first page and chapter of our new book, that sweet rendezvous where Jewish people stop to share our innermost thoughts, for being warm and sincere, for wishing health, happiness and peace to not only our kith and kin but the whole world, which to all appearances, may well give the impression of being mad and dysfunctional but underneath it all, yearns desperately for much greater clarity and understanding.

So as a family we'll all congregate in shul(synagogue) an architectural wonder that has stood the test of times for centuries and continues to exert its timeless charm. We'll fling our talit(shawl) over our shoulders, place couple or kippa on our head and open our book at the appropriate page. For the spiritual and contemplative, this is one of the most special occasions in the Jewish calendar.

Personally Rosh Hashanah is truly one of the most heartwarming and uplifting festivals in the Jewish calendar. It is a time for being studious, grateful, composed, quiet, switching off from the rest of the world, lowering our heads, a few hours of solemnity, still and motionless, while all the time thinking back and then forward to the future. We flick through columns of richly lyrical Hebrew literature, ponder over lengthy passages and parables from many hundreds, thousands and millions ago and then blow the Shofar(the ram's horn). There is a natural progression about the whole service, a logical sequence of events that date so far back in history that some of us may get lost in nostalgia.

We then engage in that thoroughly amusing ritual known as standing up and sitting down, a mildly aerobic exercise that can often prove slightly disorientating particularly after the 50th time of asking. Of course this is an exaggeration but how we love Rosh Hashanah regardless of just how tiring these exertions may become. There is a delightful feeling of belonging and togetherness about both of the New Year days that is so obviously felt that you have to be there to experience it.

And then our erudite rabbis step forward and deliver their immensely eloquent sermons. A reverential silence falls over the hall and the congregation sing their sweetest of melodies. It is a yearly custom that is so joyously re-enacted that some of us will never ever tire of it. Men with strong baritone voices can be heard all over North London. Women with equally as powerful larynxes will join in with quite the most magnificent of sounds.

Judaism though binds us together firmly, a religion that will always be blissfully inclusive, utterly welcoming, always open to radical change, liberal, flexible and never afraid to express itself on a whole diverse range of opinions on all subjects. It is the one reason why we love being Jewish, why we celebrate life in all of its beauty, why we are so determined to have a good time because in an otherwise serious and often cruel world, we have to be optimistic and have to hope that one day the darker shades of the world will vanish never to be seen again.

On both days of Rosh Hashanah the traditional apple and honey flows outside the shul, tables groaning with those sweet tasting metaphors, symbolising the true flavour of Rosh Hashanah. Of course the persecution and suffering have always lain under the surface. How we've endured the ignorance and prejudice for as long as we can remember and not really known why. But we'll never complain because this is essentially a time for families and children, for singing lustily, blowing the shofar once again and listening to that incredible vibrato.

So it is that Rosh Hashanah will make way for Kol Nidre, the most sombre night of the year. The following day we observe Yom Kippur. Now what a day that is. It is the one day of the year when Jews around the world fast for 25 hours. That's it. No food, no drink or anything that is remotely pleasurable. It is abstinence and starvation on a remarkable scale. Some of us, it has to be said, genuinely enjoy this ultimate act of self control, discipline and willpower. Just for a minute though we'll remember quite vividly our rebellious childhood when we created an enormous fuss and questioned everything about Rosh Hashanah.

Come Monday morning then we'll all be donning our smartest suits, shirts and ties, brand new shoes, colourful dresses and skirts and couples on our head of the most marvellous diversity. We'll swap jokes, spin our yarns, chatting, story telling, laughing, walking in and out of shul from time to time because you had to stretch your legs. There will be a soft shuffling of feet, a gentle folding of the talit and then the inevitable rush to the toilet. Rosh Hashanah will always mean so much to us, that festival with its huge significance, symbolism, humour and frequent bursts of hilarity. Because that's what life should always be about. Shana tova everybody. Oh, and don't forget the whisky on Succot.