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If you are not Jewish, you may have recently noticed that your Jewish friends have begun saying things like “Shanah Tovah,” disappearing from work for two days, buying suspicious quantities of honey, and talking about being “written in the Book of Life.”
Do not panic. They have not gone mad.
It is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which means Jews celebrate the beginning of a new year in the most Jewish way imaginable: by going to synagogue, thinking about death, judging ourselves for everything we did wrong over the past 12 months, eating an enormous meal, and then immediately beginning a 10-day period of additional judgment.
It is basically New Year’s Eve if Times Square were replaced by God.
For the uninitiated, here is everything you need to know.
1) No, it is not January.
This is usually the first source of confusion. You may point out that the Jewish New Year occurs in September or October. The Jews are aware. We have calendars.
The Jewish calendar is a lunisolar calendar, which is a wonderfully efficient system that ensures Jewish holidays fall on a slightly different Gregorian date every year so that nobody (including Jews) can remember when they are.
Ask a Jew when Rosh Hashanah is next year and there is a decent chance they will instinctively reach for their phone. We have been celebrating this holiday for thousands of years. We still need Google.
2) The Meaning of ‘Shanah Tovah’
The standard greeting is “Shanah Tovah,” meaning “a good year.” You can say this to Jewish people. They will appreciate it.
Pronunciation standards are extremely forgiving. Jews themselves cannot agree on how half of Hebrew should be pronounced because some of our grandparents came from Poland, some came from Iraq, some came from Morocco, some came from Russia, and somebody somewhere will inevitably inform you that the way you said it is technically Yemenite.
Just say “Shanah Tovah.” Smile. Keep moving. Do not attempt to add additional Hebrew unless you have been trained.
3) There will be apples and honey. A lot of honey.
One of the best-known Rosh Hashanah traditions is dipping apples into honey to symbolize our hope for a sweet new year. This is Judaism at its most accessible — no theological degree required.
Apple. Honey. Sweet year. Done.
Naturally, Jews were not content to leave it there.
Depending on the community, you may also encounter dates, pomegranates, leeks, beets, pumpkins, fish heads, and several foods whose symbolic meaning requires a Hebrew pun that will take approximately 11 minutes to explain.
At some point somebody will hold up a vegetable and say, “The Aramaic word for this sounds like the word for destroying our enemies.”
There will also be pomegranates galore — on cards, dinner tables, synagogue decorations, and Instagram posts. For Jews, the pomegranate traditionally represents abundance and mitzvot (Jewish commandments). There is also an old tradition connecting its many seeds with the 613 commandments in the Torah.
Do not count the seeds. Someone already tried. The numbers vary. Judaism survived.
4) The shofar is basically God’s alarm clock.
At some point during synagogue services, someone will blow a ram’s horn called a shofar. It sounds somewhere between a trumpet, an elephant, and a medieval army discovering your village.
This is intentional. The shofar is not supposed to be relaxing. Nobody hears it and thinks, “What lovely background music.”
It is a wake-up call. Your life is happening. You are getting older. You have things to fix. Call your mother. Apologize to your brother. Stop pretending you are going to cancel the subscription you have been paying $17.99 a month for since 2022.
The shofar does not care about your excuses.
5) Jewish New Year’s resolutions are slightly more intense.
On December 31st, people generally make resolutions like: “I’m going to work out more.” “I’m going to drink less.” “I’m going to finally learn Spanish.”
By approximately January 18th, everyone has quietly agreed to never mention them again.
Rosh Hashanah takes a somewhat different approach. The questions are more like: What kind of person have I become? Who did I hurt? What did I waste? Where have I been dishonest? What am I avoiding? Why am I here?
Slightly different energy. Nobody is discussing Pilates.
6) Yes, God is judging everyone.
One of Rosh Hashanah’s central themes is judgment, which tends to surprise newcomers. Jewish tradition imagines God reviewing our lives as a new year begins. Hence the famous language about being “written in the Book of Life.”
This may sound terrifying. And, to be fair, telling children that an all-knowing God is reviewing their annual performance does make Santa’s naughty list seem comparatively relaxed.
But the deeper idea is not simply punishment. It is accountability. Judaism does not say: You were imperfect, therefore you are doomed. It says: You were imperfect. Now what are you going to do?
This is why Jewish guilt gets misunderstood. The guilt is not the destination. It is the notification.
This is where the holiday gets surprisingly beautiful. Modern culture loves reinvention: new year, new body, new job, new relationship, new morning routine involving cold plunges and a protein powder that costs $84.
Judaism is less interested in inventing a new you. It asks whether the existing you can become slightly better — more patient, more generous, more courageous, more honest, more grateful, less committed to winning arguments nobody will remember three days from now.
7) Rosh Hashanah lasts two days because Judaism rarely chooses the shorter option.
You may ask: “Isn’t New Year’s Day one day?”
Nope. Rosh Hashanah is traditionally observed for two days, like many Jewish holidays outside Israel.
Why? There are historical and calendrical explanations dating back to the ancient world.
The more practical explanation is that if Judaism discovers something meaningful, our first instinct is often to ask: “Could this perhaps be longer?”
A Jewish wedding: long. A Passover seder: long. Yom Kippur: very long. An argument about whether gefilte fish tastes good: potentially indefinite.
8) You may see Jews throwing bread into a body of water.
This is called Tashlich. During Rosh Hashanah, many Jews go to a river, lake, ocean, or other body of flowing water and symbolically cast away their sins.
Traditionally, people sometimes used pieces of bread, although many communities now discourage this because feeding bread to wildlife is not particularly good for wildlife.
The symbolism remains excellent. You stand near water. You think about what you want to leave behind — regret, anger, jealousy, grudges, that thing you said in the family text group in March.
Into the metaphorical river they go.
(Unfortunately, your family still has the screenshots. Judaism can’t help you there.)
9) The meal will probably begin approximately 90 minutes later than advertised.
If a Jewish family tells you dinner is at 7:00, there are several possible interpretations. 7:00 may mean 7:30. 7:30 may mean 8:00. At 8:00, someone may still be asking whether the challah has been sliced.
There will then be blessings. There will be symbolic foods. Someone will explain the symbolic foods. Another person will interrupt the explanation because they learned a different version. A third person will Google it. Eventually, you will eat.
Come hungry, but not hangry.
And always compliment the food. This is not optional.
If somebody’s mother made the dish (especially if it is a Persian mother), you enjoy the dish. If the dish is excellent, say it is excellent. If the dish is average, say it is excellent. If the dish has the structural properties of drywall, ask for the recipe.
You are entering an ancient civilization. Show respect.
10) And then, a week and a half later, nobody eats.
Just when you think the Jewish New Year festivities are complete, Judaism announces: Excellent, now Yom Kippur.
Twenty-five hours. No food. No coffee. No water. Not even brushing your teeth. More synagogue.
We discuss everything you did wrong — again.
Think of Rosh Hashanah as the opening meeting of your annual performance review. Yom Kippur is when HR sends the follow-up.
For all the talk of judgment, sin, mortality, and repentance, Rosh Hashanah is fundamentally built around an optimistic idea: People can change, relationships can be repaired, bad years can end, better years can begin.
You are not permanently defined by the worst thing you did last year. You get another page. That is why Jews eat sweet things. That is why we hear the shofar. That is why we gather around tables with people who have known us long enough to remember every embarrassing version of us.
A year closes. Another one opens. And for two days, Jews around the world ask themselves a question far more important than where they are going for New Year’s Eve: Who do I want to be when I get there?
So if a Jewish friend invites you to Rosh Hashanah dinner this year, go. Bring flowers. Eat the apples. Dip them in honey. Compliment the mother’s dish. And when everyone raises their glasses and wishes one another a good and sweet year, say the only Hebrew you need to know: Shanah Tovah.
Then ask for more gefilte fish.
Perfect post. Love it. Shana Tova from a non-Jew!
Perfect