The Reawakening: My Rosh Hashanah Story

I have reawakened from the depression of my grief. A friend told me to sound out the word, depressed, indeed, it sounds like 'deep rest'. I awake filled with my great loss, but now I am back in the world of feeling. There aren't proper words to thank everyone who walked by me during the dark year after Martijn's departure from this realm. So I say deeply, truly: "Thank You." Thank you for simply being there for me. I understand now how deep I sank and how much each of you supported me. Among you is a special friend, one I made recently in Maastricht, Sueli Brodin, who among her other talents and obligations, edits our local online 'expats' magazine, Crossroads. I have reproduced here my reflection about being an American Jew in Maastricht. Please link to the original at Crossroads, or please read on here.

A birthday apple for the world: Reflections of a Maastricht Jewish American on Rosh Hashanah and “The Days of Awe”

by Susan Schaefer

September 20, 2009

Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking for us.

-R. Buckminster Fuller

The advent of the autumn new moon marks Rosh Hashanah, which this year is 5770 of the Jewish calendar, and began at sundown on Friday, September 18, 2009, in the common era calendar. Rosh Hashanah starts the “the Days of Awe,” the most sacred ten day period in the Jewish year, ending with “the Day of Atonement”, Yom Kippur, a day of prayer, fasting and solemn contemplation. The period is a time when Jews reflect on the activities and behavior of the past year, questing to continuously develop as better individuals in the future, and seeking forgiveness for transgressions, not only from God, but also from one another, and not solely for ourselves, but also for the collective sins of our community.

Like so much of the Jewish culture – this idea of community is essential. Prayer and reflection are typically practiced in community in a temple or synagogue. I was raised in more secular household where Jewish traditions, rites and rituals were principally practiced in the home. The need to attend ‘services’ in a synagogue was not a cornerstone of my upbringing. Yet, like many modern Christians who only attend church for their high holidays of Easter and Christmas, I, too, enjoyed the rituals of these High Holidays as practiced in a synagogue.

Unfortunately, in Maastricht there isn’t a liberal or reform synagogue to attend. Here, the small Jewish community is rooted in an orthodox practice with which I don’t identify. Given the devastation of all European Jewry in the Holocaust, having even a small congregation of Jews is significant.


Synagogue in Maastricht, photo by Herman Pijpers

Nevertheless, I personally find it more comfortable to keep my faith in my own way. And so, I offer this reflection for others who also find themselves without the fellowship of their particular community at this sweet time of year so that they remember that faith can always be found within oneself, can be accessed at will, anytime and anywhere.

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Rosh Hashanah is also referred to as “the birthday of the world,” a time when we ask to be inscribed in “the book of life”. In general, food and music are the arteries for the heart of a Jew, and the apple is deeply associated with our New Year. It is a tradition to dip the apple in honey to remind us of the sweetness of life at this time of year.

When I miss the opportunity to be with community to celebrate, I choose a few alternatives that encompass the spirit of the occasion. First, I listen to an incredible CD recording entitled, “The Birthday of the World: The Liturgy and Music of Rosh Hashanah”, narrated by Leonard Nimoy with astounding music. (Yes, Star Trek’s own Mr. Spock is a Jewish Vulcan, oh vey!)

After listening to the liturgy and music, I typically try to commune with nature. Nature is my concept of God’s cathedral, and in nature I am better able to think about my Judaism, my life and my wishes for the new year to come. One year, I found this nature in my own front yard – in my apple tree.

This apple tree had rarely been appreciated or eaten of. A city girl by upbringing, having a yard and trees was an entirely new experience. However, I found myself deeply drawn to touch my tree, to take from it the sweet burden of its fruit. And in the act of tending my tree I came to myself. Relieving the tree of its offering – apple by apple – I also found myself growing lighter. This act of quiet, deliberateness drained from me the weight of the day-to-day burdens we all carry. Both the tree and I grew lighter and this “mindful” activity seemed in keeping with the spirit of Rosh Hashanah – a time to stop normal activity, to reflect.


Another remarkable thing happened while I pulled and twisted the ripe, meaty fruit from its source. I found myself harmoniously in the midst of something I otherwise fear – bees. Dozens of bees had discovered the sweet sustenance of decaying fruit that had already fallen. In order for me to harvest my share, I had to work in their company. Typically, I am afraid of these honey-making, stinging creatures. Yet, for no reason at all, I felt quite safe, somehow knowing that they were merely going about their business and would leave me to mine. So, a second miracle accompanied the act of picking my tree – I worked securely with my own fear.

The third small grace to befall me, for surely all holy enlightenments happen in threes, was my sudden ability to tend only what needed to be tended at the moment. By nature, I am a bit of an overachiever. My desk is littered with five to twelve projects and in my profession as a communications consultant, I’m frequently interrupted, even when I do manage to be working on only one project. Phone calls, e-mails, colleagues, and my own thoughts are constant barriers to “being here now”. Suddenly, picking these “lowly” apples, I felt no need to do anything else. I was content quietly circling the tree, methodically finishing one area before moving to the next. It felt like a clear metaphor for beginning my new year in more balance and contentment.

And so, I came to my new year with a sermon of self, spun from the branches of a tree of life.

Now, at this time of year, I remember to perform a mindful act each day, fully aware of the moment, and in so doing, relieve a burden or two from this hectic life of hyper-drive. I try to acknowledge and honor my fears and learn to work with them, rather than waging hopeless battles against them. And, finally, I attempt to see the beauty and necessity of performing one thing at a time, leaving juggling to the talented acrobats of those charming European circuses that have gained such recent popularity.

Vaeshartelt Castle, photo by Herman Pijpers

Maastricht offers astounding nature almost within her city boundaries. Limburg is graced with a contemplative beauty that allows one to find sustenance in God’s outdoor sanctuary. Community, indeed is where we create it. If each of us carries the spirit of our faith every day, practicing it year-round, we can find sanctuary in the heart of each human being, each element of nature, remembering that it is not where you are, but who you are that inscribes us in the book of life. I wish for everyone everywhere in the world, a sweet “New Year”.