How my family is dealing with this Rosh Hashanah

At a Jewish learning class I recently attended, the rabbi asked how many of the participants had made New Year's resolutions – either on January 1 or on the first of Tishri. More than half of participants did not do this, saying resolutions “aren’t worth it” because “they’ll be broken anyway.” Most Americans have also abandoned the practice of dissolution, making it outdated, cliched, and performative.

In my family, New Year's resolutions are a big challenge. When I was growing up, my parents and I would get together for an annual brunch on the High Holidays, the start of the Jewish New Year. We brought our notebooks full of lists – not just our own resolutions, but also feedback for each other. As an arena of honest criticism, these brunches start out calm and composed, but inevitably the conversations can become contentious.

What a strange family. Nobody else seems to do this, I thought as a child, why should we? Why turn the joyous celebration of Rosh Hashanah into a forum for family criticism when you know it could cause tension?

The Soffers may be strange, but there's a story behind these Meshugas. When I was born, my parents committed to embodying the spirit of each holiday, not only through connecting with God through prayer, but also through embracing divine principles and ethics through reflection, repair, and renewal. We invoked the words of Elie Wiesel: “If we respect each other, then we owe each other honesty.”

Honesty can be brutal and must be channeled respectfully to avoid negativity. Over time, we learned to communicate positively, igniting a growth spirit that suited the occasion.

Jewish men pray at the grave of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov in Uman, ahead of the Jewish holiday Rosh Hashanah, October 1, 2024 (Credit: OREN BEN HAKOON/POOL)

My mother's commitment to Jewish tradition had a creative, philosophical aspect. She has written Haggadot for Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur and Passover, as well as Thanksgiving, to illuminate our celebrations with wisdom and profound discussions. Each book contains analyzes of their respective biblical traditions and historical narratives, illustrating the impact of their teachings on our personal lives, our communities, and our world. She has included quotes from Jewish visionaries and modern thought leaders to stimulate dinner discussions on topics ranging from repentance and forgiveness to freedom and responsibility.

Chapters in the Rosh Hashanah Seder and the Haggadah for the High Holidays

My favorite chapter in the Rosh Hashanah Seder and the High Holidays Haggadah focuses on the shofar, “the awakening of teshuvah within ourselves,” as Maimonides writes. The word “Shofar” has the same roots as the Hebrew word “lehishtaper,” which means “refinement” or “improvement.” Teshuva, whose origin lies in the word “lashuv,” or “to return,” offers the opportunity to reclaim our divine virtues and rededicate ourselves to a flawless ethical code.

Judgment is the cause and effect of every action and reaction – what we reflect on during the High Holidays in order to return to true goodness. Allegorically, the three distinct sounds of the shofar – tekiah, shevarim and teruah – are essential to this awakening. Tekiah triggers awakening with a powerful blow and stimulates thought; Meant to sound like a three-beat cry, Shevarim depicts turbulent and perhaps fearful emotions that carry us into the new year after courageously facing our mistakes; Teruah's staccato sounds energize us after overcoming our fears and freeing us from the captivating factors of the past year.

The ritual of “casting off” our sins by throwing pieces of bread into a body of water, known as Tashlich, cleanses our slates. A clean slate is sure to be soiled again; However, the High Holidays are a time to ensure that the same stains of the past year do not resurface. This Tashlich ritual, the trigger for Teshuva, must be performed with transparency and responsibility so that, like the water into which we throw the bread, we see a clear reflection of ourselves.

Themes of transparency and accountability appear in my mother's Rosh Hashanah Seder and in the High Holiday Haggadah series of discernment questions. One question is, “How is just judgment different from judgment?”

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According to Rashi, on Rosh Hashanah we blow the shofar twice to move beyond confrontation with ourselves; we must also “confront the accuser.” Confronting the accuser is traditionally intended to “confuse Satan” – with Satan embodying yetzer hara, the human innate tendency toward evil. By confronting and acknowledging our evil tendencies, we gain a self-awareness that encourages honesty with ourselves and finding ways to refine our behavior.

This is the difference between a just judgment and making a judgment: Judgment is impulsive and thoughtless, while a just judgment comes from personal reflection and personal responsibility. Only by owning your mistakes can you judge yourself and others fairly and fairly.

Certainly, judgment – a uniquely human ability – is a privilege. Judgment, along with authenticity and compassion, is incomplete without accountability. Because a lack of accountability is why many Americans find resolutions pointless.

This is why my family is hosting a forum for Rosh Hashanah resolutions. Not only do we hold each other responsible for our mistakes, but we also hold each other responsible for the way we judge and confront each other's shortcomings.

We also changed our mindset when engaging in family criticism. The purpose of these conversations was not to criticize, but to confront the truth from an valued outside perspective. Others can often see in us what we cannot see. Because of this, we no longer entered these conversations feeling the need to defend ourselves, but instead were receptive to each other's feelings about our actions. We intentionally pushed back and forth using the framework of what we should accept, reject, or change in the coming year. We have learned to ask each other for correction when we judge incorrectly. We agreed not to associate the word “you” with negative language and instead focused on how the behavior made us feel and steps to make amends.

My family's Rosh Hashanah tradition includes the teachings of Pirkei Avot: “Appoint yourself a teacher, make a friend, and judge everyone positively.” Judging positively does not mean being frugal. We should judge behavior rather than judging the entire person based on their behavior. Such judgment requires introspection and honest, constructive criticism and leaves room for forgiveness and reparation.

Humility and honesty in judgment allow responsibility to become a source of truth and personal responsibility to become a source of honor as we move into the new year.

The author is a graduate of George Washington University.

Chapters in the Rosh Hashanah Seder and the Haggadah for the High Holidays

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