A New View on the New Year: Rosh Hashanah Birth Wisdom

Rosh Hashanah hasn’t been the same for me since giving birth.

Maybe it’s because, as a parent, marking time now takes on a whole new meaning. With the rapid transformation of a growing child, another year passes with an indescribable mix of joy and grief.

Maybe it’s because, as a parent, I now relate to my ancestors in a whole new way. The holiday customs spark both familiar comfort and an aching longing for the loved ones whose memories ring out from the letters in my children’s names.

Or maybe it’s because, as a parent, I have a whole new appreciation for the birth of the world and the labor, care, and miraculous strength required to create new life.

When I stand at the edge of the water for tashlich, I now think of the birthing pool where my daughter entered this world. When I wrap myself in a tallit on Rosh Hashanah morning, I now think of my newborn son wrapped in the blanket his Bubbe knit. When I hear the chanted Akeidah (the story of the binding of Isaac), I now think only of Sarah.

Pregnancy, birth, and parenting themes are woven into the symbols of Rosh Hashanah, and they feel more personally resonant than ever. 

The Shofar

With its narrow opening and wider end, the shofar is like a birth canal. The Torah’s famous midwife, Shifra, shares a name that resembles the word. Through the power of breath (like the Divine breath that infused Adam with life), the shofar acts as a midwife for the new year. With its powerful cry, the shofar calls out for God’s mercy, rachamim, coming from the same Hebrew letters as rechem, womb. We hope God will respond to us with love and care, like a parent responding to their infant’s cry.

When I hear the shofar blast, I hear echoes of the loud noises that arose from deep within me during labor. In fact, in one Moroccan Jewish tradition, a community member blows the shofar during labor when the pregnant person is having an especially challenging time. Prior to giving birth, I considered the sound of the shofar to be deeply holy. Nowadays, I know that this holiness—the power of creation through breath—is also deeply human. 

Apples and Honey 

Midrash teaches that Hebrew women gave birth under the apple trees during Pharoah’s rule to keep their babies safe from his murderous decree. In this light, apples symbolize the brilliance and resilience of birthing parents and our trust in God’s creation to protect and nourish our babies. 

Honey has been a staple of postpartum recovery foods in Jewish and broader communities around the world for generations. Manna, a miraculous white substance that provided for all the Israelites’ nutritional needs in the wilderness, was said to taste like “a pastry fried in honey.” As I continue to nurse my daughter through this High Holiday season, I am inspired by the interpretations of manna as breastmilk, and therefore God as a nursing parent, like me and so many others. 

Round Challah

Baking challah is a segulah, a Jewish auspicious custom, believed to promote fertility, a healthy pregnancy, and a smooth labor. As a symbol of nourishing abundance, braiding the holy bread channels our role as a partner with God in creating the world. 

I can’t be the first person to notice that the round challah loaf we enjoy on Rosh Hashanah resembles a wonderfully full pregnant belly. Pregnancy is a season of possibility, filled with high hopes and worrisome anxieties. Rosh Hashanah liturgy sings out the phrase, “HaYom Harat Olam.” Many translate these words as, “Today the world is born anew,” but the more literal translation of “Harat Olam” is actually “eternally pregnant.” Harnessing the pure potential of pregnancy, the holiday asks us to consider what world we want to give birth to in the new year.

Giving birth taught me that I don’t need to choose between surrendering control and embracing a hopeful spirit of optimism—in fact, I need both. This, I believe, is true for the beginning of a new year as well. While I cannot know for sure what comes ahead for my family and the world in 5787, I will still pray for the shofar’s compassionate mercy, the honey’s overflowing sweetness, and the challah’s nourishing abundance. I hope these Rosh Hashanah traditions will sustain me through the hard labor of a fruitful, sweet new year.