Over time, various nations—often occupiers—have tried to destroy the Jewish people.
Some, like the Egyptians, tried to enslave us.
In 731 BCE, the Assyrians conquered the Kingdom of Israel, disbursing its population among the territories of Assyria.
To this day, those tribes are known as the Ten Lost Tribes.
Babylon tried the same in 567-577 BCE, expelling the remainder of the Jewish people—from Jerusalem and the Kingdom of Judea—to the “Rivers of Babylon.”
After the fall of Rome, the Byzantines forbad the reading of the Torah.
“That will finally finish them off,” the leaders of each empire declared.
But they did not count upon the iron will of the Jewish people to survive.
Ultimately, we were delivered from Egyptian bondage. We now know through genetic testing, and documentaries like “Quest for the Lost Tribes of Israel” that that the remnants of the 10 “lost tribes,” although scattered through Asia, exist to this day.
While in Babylon, the exiled tribes of Jerusalem, particularly Judah, formed the religion we today call Judaism.
And, when we were forbidden to read the Torah, we found other books to teach lessons of wisdom to our children.
But no nation adopted a more brutal attack on the survival of the Jewish people as the Greeks.
They occupied the Jerusalem Temple, and they outlawed observance of the Shabbat, along with circumcision. Most of all, they prohibited the honoring and sanctifying of the new moon.
This strategy was, perhaps, the most threatening of all to the survival of the Jewish people.
Who are we as a people, if we are stripped of our capacity to celebrate Jewish holidays?
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur guide us through a time of spiritual reflection. Sukkot invites us to count our blessings.
Purim is a time for fun. Pesach is about freedom, and Shavuot encourages us to renew our “marriage” with God under the Ten Commandments.
The Greeks believed that if they banished Jewish life revolving around each new moon, Judaism would soon collapse.
But the Jewish people remained firm.
Perhaps for practical purposes, one of the most important questions we ask, as Jews, each year is, “Is Rosh Hashanah early or late this year?”
I always answer that it is neither early nor late. It always falls on the first day of the Jewish month of Tishrei. It’s the “other calendar” that revolves around it.
While the Jewish lunar month averages about 29.5 days, the solar calendar, favored by the Greeks, alternates between 30, 31 and sometimes 28.
The secular calendar extends an extra day every fourth year. The Jewish calendar adds an extra month about every three years.
So, once a year, Judaism devotes a Shabbat to honor the sanctity of time and its importance within our tradition.
This coming Shabbat, just a few weeks before Pesach, is known as Shabbat HaChodesh—Sabbath of “The Month.”
Our mystics taught that every new Jewish month sets in motion the “Rhythm of the Heart.” It began when we were an infant nation.
As the Israelites exited Egypt, God said to Moses, “This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you.” (Exodus 12:3)
Many scholars have noted that— at that moment—the Israelites could truly declare themselves free.
In ancient times, a system of flares was set up from mountain top to mountain top, passing the news of the new moon sighting from Jerusalem to the outlying areas.
Enemies of Israel would often set up “fake flairs,” hoping to confuse the Jewish people. The Greeks tried to abolish this altogether.
But we would not succumb, declaring that with every new moon—coinciding with the cycle of life—we possess the capacity to reboot our life story.
Within our congregation, women now meet around the new moon for study and reflection.
We call this time—Rosh Chodesh. In Hebrew, the word for moon is Levana—within it, is the word lev, or heart. The word chodesh—or month—is closely related to the word chadash, or new.
During each month at various times, our souls enlighten and darken. There are days when life’s light seems concealed, others when it shines brilliantly.
Despite all we have endured during the previous four weeks, we remind ourselves on Rosh Chodesh that we are truly alive.
And this, perhaps, is the secret of the Jewish people.
Over the millennia, we have been exiled, occupied and persecuted. We have endured and survived the Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks and many more oppressors.
But we have always clung to time.
On this Shabbat, we take a moment to mark Shabbat HaChodesh, at the dawn of, perhaps, the most significant family event of the Jewish calendar.
We begin with Passover, celebrating freedom, embracing its opportunity to teach lessons of freedom and survival to our children.
On this Shabbat HaChodesh, we honor the Jewish connection with time.
For despite countless occupiers and persecutors throughout history, we continue to approach each month with hope.
On this coming Shabbat HaChodesh, the Shabbat that announces the coming of Pesach, let us truly embrace the freedom that time provides—and let us use it wisely.
In spite of the odds, and the bitter lessons of history, as we look into the eyes of our children this Passover, let us never forget the eternal hope of the Jewish people.
As we declare this month, and every month as the world around us renews:
“This is our time.”
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman