The Laps We Keep Walking
On Rosh Hashanah, we come to synagogue carrying more than a prayer book.
We carry the year that was: the disappointments we did not expect, the fears we did not voice, the losses we still cannot quite name, and the blessings we may have been too busy—or too worried—to recognize.
This year, I found myself crying in synagogue.
It had been a difficult year, especially because of health challenges that tested my patience, confidence, and sense of control. As the familiar prayers filled the room, the year came back to me all at once: medical appointments, uncertainty, worry, and the quiet fatigue that comes when health no longer feels like something one can simply take for granted.
I prayed for a better year. I prayed for health, steadiness, peace, and the ability to recognize the good that is still present even in a difficult time.
That, perhaps, is part of what Rosh Hashanah asks of us. Not to pretend that the past year was easier than it was, and not to allow its hardships to become the entire story.
No One Has Everything
This past year, I also had the good fortune to retire early. That is no small blessing. Retirement can offer what many people spend decades hoping for: more time with family, more freedom over one’s days, and room to think, read, write, travel, help others, or simply breathe after the relentless pace of professional life.
And yet the same year brought health challenges.
I told my wife that life rarely distributes blessings and burdens neatly. No one has everything. That does not mean illness is a price one pays for good fortune, or that hardship somehow balances out blessing. Life is not a moral accounting system. But it does mean that even a year for which we are deeply grateful can also be a year of fear, pain, and uncertainty.
In Jewish life, we often wish one another that we should go “from strength to strength.” It is a beautiful blessing. We hope that........
