By Karen Kruger

Rosh Hashanah is traditionally a time of new beginnings. Here in Israel, there is a sense of anticipation as we approach another year, but this year, as in the past few years, that anticipation is mixed with many other emotions. The last three years have been hard.

This year, Rosh Hashanah begins on the evening of September 11, 2026. For me, that date carries an additional weight. As an American Jewish woman, a follower of Yeshua the Messiah, and someone who immigrated to Israel and made this country my home, September 11 connects two parts of my life and two places that I deeply love. I still remember the horror of the terrorist attacks in the United States on September 11, 2001. Now, as Israel approaches three years since October 7, 2023, I find myself remembering another day of terror that changed the country I call home. These events are different, and I do not compare them, but both remind me how quickly life can change and how deeply a nation can carry the memory of a single day.

Three years is a long time. Yet, for those who lost someone, for those who were wounded or taken hostage, for families whose homes, communities, and livelihoods were destroyed, and for soldiers and their families, October 7 can feel like yesterday. For some, it can even feel like now.

Perhaps that is why Rosh Hashanah feels especially meaningful this year. Our faith does not ask us to forget the past so that we can begin again. Rather, Scripture repeatedly calls us to remember. We remember what God has done, we remember His faithfulness, and we also remember the consequences of turning away from Him. We can look honestly at the year that has passed, acknowledge what has been broken, and ask God how we should move forward.

Renewal does not require us to erase pain. It does, however, remind us that pain does not have the final word. Our hope is not simply that the coming year will be easier than the last. Our hope is in the God of Israel, whose faithfulness does not change with our circumstances.

The prophet Jeremiah spoke to the people of Israel during a time when many were living in exile in Babylon. They had lost their homes and were facing a future very different from the one they had imagined. Yet God had not forgotten them or abandoned His purposes for them. He told them:

“For I know the plans that I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans for prosperity and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11

In the months and years since October 7, 2023, Israelis have seen incredible courage and compassion alongside grief and fear. Volunteers brought food to displaced families and to soldiers serving in the aftermath of the horrific attack. Strangers opened their homes. Communities looked after soldiers and survivors. People planted gardens, rebuilt homes, went back to school and work, built memorials, and somehow kept celebrating birthdays, weddings, and new births. The wounds have not disappeared, but our people have shown an amazing ability to carry sorrow and hope at the same time.

Rachel Goldberg-Polin, whose son Hersh was taken hostage on October 7 and later murdered in captivity, became a voice for many people during those terrible months. Through unimaginable grief, she often repeated the words, “Hope is mandatory.” Her determination to continue speaking about hope in the midst of such profound loss touched many people in Israel and around the world.

Hope is also deeply woven throughout Scripture. The Apostle Paul reminds us that we do not grieve as those who have no hope. This does not mean that our grief is somehow less painful or that we ignore the reality of loss. Rather, Scripture points us to a hope that is rooted in Yeshua, in His resurrection, and in the faithfulness of God. We can grieve deeply while continuing to trust that grief and death do not have the final word.

Perhaps the shofar sounds different to us after October 7. Its sound is not a beautiful musical melody. It is raw, ancient, and sobering. Among the traditional sounds of the shofar are shevarim, broken sounds, and teruah, a series of short, trembling cries. There is something deeply fitting about hearing those sounds in Israel now.

The sound of the shofar also carries a biblical significance that goes beyond our modern traditions. What is commonly called Rosh Hashanah is the biblical appointed time described in Leviticus 23 as a day of rest and remembrance marked by the sounding of trumpets. It calls us to remember the God of Israel and to consider where we stand before Him.

This leads naturally to one of the central themes associated with Rosh Hashanah and the days that follow: teshuvah. Though the Hebrew word is often translated as repentance, its meaning carries the idea of returning. Biblically, that return is first and foremost a return to God. Throughout Scripture, God calls His people to turn from their ways and return to Him with their whole hearts.

After three years of war, fear, anger, loss, and division, perhaps this is one of the most important prayers we can pray for ourselves and for Israel: that we would return to the God of Israel. As we return to Him, may He also teach us again how to treat one another with compassion, humility, and dignity, even when we disagree.

Our society is deeply divided, and the wounds within Israel did not begin on October 7. I would argue that the war exposed divisions that were already present. We pray that God would bring healing where there is bitterness, humility where there is pride, wisdom where there is confusion, and unity according to His truth.

We also remember that the good news of Yeshua the Messiah is not limited by ethnicity, nationality, background, or social group. He gave His life so that people could be reconciled to God. As His followers, we are called to reflect His love and truth to the people He places in our path.

On Rosh Hashanah, we traditionally wish one another a good and sweet year as we dip apples in honey. This year, let us pray for continued healing and comfort for the bereaved, strength for those carrying unseen wounds, and the safe return of our soldiers to their families. Let us pray for wisdom and healing amid our internal divisions, and that our children may grow up knowing security rather than sirens. Perhaps, too, we can pray for the simple joys we once took for granted: days at the beach, barbecues with friends, children laughing, families celebrating together, and peaceful nights without sirens. Above all, let us pray for peace.

Three years after October 7, one of our greatest challenges is not simply to remember, but to hope again. For those who have lost so much, hope can feel frightening because it makes us vulnerable to disappointment; sometimes, anger and fear may seem easier than believing something better is possible. Yet the story of our people has never been one in which fear had the final word. Abraham left his home without knowing where God would lead him; Moses led our people out of slavery, and the exiles returned to the Land and rebuilt Jerusalem. Again and again, our history reminds us that destruction does not determine the final outcome. More importantly, Scripture reminds us that our future does not ultimately depend on our ability to rebuild, recover, or remain strong, but on the God of Israel, who has remained faithful to His people throughout generations and whose Word has not changed.

As we enter another year, may we experience sweetness and joy after such a long season of mourning and grief. May this year be one of healing, meaning, and purpose. May our children have an uninterrupted school year in which they are able to learn and grow without running to shelters. May those who mourn be comforted, and may those who are weary receive new strength.

Above all, may the sound of the shofar remind us to remember the faithfulness of the God of Israel, to return to Him with our whole hearts, and to place our hope in Him.

Shana Tova U’Metukah. May you have a good and sweet New Year.