It is not a short walk from the synagogue sanctuary to the river.
Yet, it's a relatively short walk from the synagogue sanctuary to the river that runs below compared to the walks of our ancestors.
The weather was warm, but not too warm. It was sunny and the ground was dry, had been dry long enough that the path was free of the puddles and mud we'd made our way through on previous new years celebration.
My youngest daughter, 5, and I set out along the walkway that had been mowed in anticipation of Tashlich, the Jewish ceremony of prayer and casting bread into water in order to symbolically cast away our sins.
We followed the others, a stream of people moving with purpose toward the ebb of water — all holding a piece (or two, or three) of bread.
This year my youngest was strong enough to throw the bread all the way to the water and I am impressed by her growth. I think about my teenagers, one in high school and one in college, and their independence.
On the way back from the river, my daughter and I continued walking slowly, silently, enjoying nature. I'm reminded of those who walked before me — those who walked along the dry path that extended from shore-to-shore of the Red Sea. I also remember those who walked the streets of Europe to train stations where they were transported to their death.
I was at once reminded of our place in history and how fortunate we are to look to the future.
I wish you all many blessings and joy in 5775.
,לשנה טובה תכתב