Let’s Start: What Is Rosh Hashanah?
Judaism has four different “new years” in its calendar, each serving a different legal, spiritual, or agricultural purpose. Rosh Hashanah is one of these new years, and perhaps the one most widely recognized as the beginning of the Jewish year.
Rosh Hashanah is first mentioned in the Torah in Leviticus 23:23–25. There it is described as a “sacred occasion” on which the people of Israel are commanded to refrain from ordinary labor and to commemorate the day with “loud blasts.” This is understood as a reference to the blowing of the shofar, the ram’s horn that has become one of the most recognizable symbols of the holiday.
Over the centuries, however, Rosh Hashanah acquired an even deeper religious and spiritual meaning through rabbinic interpretation. In Vayikra Rabbah or Leviticus Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic homilies and commentaries compiled around the fifth and sixth centuries CE, we find a teaching about why this day became such a significant moment in the Jewish calendar.
Our sages teach that the world was created on this day. They imagine the first human, Adam, standing before God in judgment on the very day of creation. Adam had eaten from the forbidden fruit, was confronted with the consequences of his actions, and ultimately received forgiveness.
The rabbis then imagine God saying to Adam:
“This, said the Holy One Blessed be God to Adam, will be a sign to your children. As you stood in judgment before Me this day and came out with a free pardon, so will your children in the future stand in judgment before Me on this day and will come out from My presence with a free pardon.”
— Vayikra Rabbah 29:1
From this teaching emerges one of the central ideas of Rosh Hashanah: we can begin again. On this day, humanity is imagined as being created anew, while also being called to honestly examine the ways we have lived and the choices we have made. Judgment and forgiveness are therefore not opposites. The process of looking honestly at ourselves is what makes renewal possible.
For this reason, Jewish tradition developed a period of self-reflection leading up to Rosh Hashanah. We are encouraged to look back at the previous year and consider where we fell short, whom we may have hurt, what we might have done differently, and what kind of people we want to become in the year ahead.
The goal is not to remain trapped in guilt or regret. The goal is to enter the new year renewed and ready to make things right.
What Is a “Sin” in Judaism?
When we encounter words such as “sin,” “holiness,” or “grace” in an interfaith setting, it is easy to assume that we all mean the same thing by them. But when we look more closely at the way different religious traditions understand and relate to these concepts, we discover important differences, opening up richer and more nuanced conversations.
The Hebrew root for “sin” is ח.ט.א (chet- tet-aleph), which means “missing”, “erring”, or “failing”. The imagery is less about being inherently “bad” and more about missing the mark.
And missing the mark is, of course, profoundly human. The first humans in the biblical creation story model this for us from the very beginning!
I personally like to imagine that our God of Forgiveness, Eloah S’lichot, understands that imperfection is part of what it means to be human. Perhaps this is why Judaism places such emphasis on the possibility of returning (t’shuvah), repairing, and beginning again.
But there is an important question beneath all of this: If God can forgive us, can we forgive others? Can we forgive ourselves?
This is where the spiritual practices surrounding Rosh Hashanah become so important. We are invited to examine our actions honestly, take responsibility for them, and consider how we might repair what has been broken.
Our task as Jews is to engage in this honest process of cheshbon hanefesh, an “accounting of the soul,” so that when the holiday arrives, we can stand before ourselves, before one another, and before God with greater honesty.
Part of Adam’s story is his willingness to eventually acknowledge that he has failed – even after having hidden from God. Rosh Hashanah asks us a similar question:
Can we do the same? Can we admit where we have missed the mark and then have the courage to begin again?
Rosh Hashanah at LMU
Now that we have explored what Rosh Hashanah is, where some of its traditions come from, and what it means within Judaism, I want to turn to what this holiday might have to teach all of us, whether we are Jewish or not.
At its heart, Rosh Hashanah is an invitation to renewal. We aspire to allow our souls, our hearts, and our ways of being in the world to be renewed, so that we can live more fully into who we are and into our relationship with the creative force that shapes the universe, God.
One of the texts that beautifully captures this desire is Psalm 51:12:
לֵב טָהוֹר בְּרָא־לִי אֱלֹהִים וְרוּחַ נָכוֹן חַדֵּשׁ בְּקִרְבִּי׃
Lev tahor b’ra li Elohim,
veruach nachon chadesh b’kirbi.
“Fashion a pure heart for me, O God;
create in me a steadfast spirit.”
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz (1937-2020), a renowned Jewish scholar and teacher, expands on this verse by interpreting it as a prayer for transformation:
“Replace my heart that has been damaged by my sins with a new heart. Grant me new understanding and feeling.”
I love this interpretation because it reminds us that renewal is not only about becoming a “better” person. It is also about becoming a different kind of person, someone capable of seeing, understanding, and feeling differently.
And perhaps this is especially meaningful as we begin a new academic year at Loyola Marymount University.
Rosh Hashanah teaches us that renewal cannot happen through the heart alone. Sewing ourselves together with matters of the heart is not enough. Our intellect matters, too. Our minds need renewal.
We need to challenge ourselves with new ideas, new questions, new perspectives, and new ways of understanding the world and reality. We need encounters with people whose experiences and ways of seeing may be different from our own. We need education, not simply as the accumulation of information, but as a practice that transforms the way we think, perceive, and relate to one another.
That is what makes the coincidence of Rosh Hashanah with the beginning of a new academic year so beautiful. Just as we enter this season asking God to renew our hearts and spirits, we also enter a new year of learning, where our minds can be stretched, challenged, and renewed.
May this new year invite all of us, Jewish and non-Jewish alike, to renew not only our hearts, but also our minds. May we remain curious enough to encounter new ideas, humble enough to reconsider what we think we know, and open enough to allow loving relationships and meaningful education to transform the way we understand ourselves, one another, and the world we share.
Shanah Tovah, may it be a good, sweet, and renewing new year.