CBE President, David Loewenberg’s Bulletin Column January – February 2026
Fellow Congregants,
As the calendar turns to January 1st, many of us instinctively reach for the familiar symbols of the
secular New Year—resolutions, countdowns, glittering hats, and perhaps a glass of champagne or
sparkling cider. It’s a moment that invites personal reflection and private promises: This year I’ll eat
better… I’ll get more organized… I’ll call my friends more often. There is something comforting about
the clean slate of a new calendar page.
But Jewish tradition reminds us that time is richer, more layered, and more communal than a single
midnight moment. The Talmud teaches that we actually have four New Years, each marking a
different kind of beginning and each asking something different of us as individuals and as a
community.
On the first of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah calls us to spiritual renewal. It is the New Year for years, for
counting cycles like Shmita (the sabbatical year) and Yovel (the jubilee year), and for taking stock of our lives. But it also asks us to hold a profound duality; the shofar’s broken notes that mirror our own places of fracture, and the hopeful, triumphant blasts that affirm the possibility of renewal and
inscription in the Book of Life. Rosh Hashanah teaches that to begin again, we must acknowledge
both our brokenness and our capacity for healing—together, as a community standing before God.
On the first of Nissan, we mark a New Year for kings and festivals, but also the beginning of our
collective story of liberation. Passover is our annual reminder that redemption happens together.
No one is freed alone. Around our tables we proclaim, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” It is
Judaism’s bold call to radical hospitality, insisting that our journey from slavery to freedom must
always expand outward—welcoming, nourishing, and lifting one another as we go.
The first of Elul, identified in the Mishnah as the New Year for tithing animals, highlights a different
kind of responsibility—how we care for the resources entrusted to us. It is a reminder that renewal
also means ethical stewardship and generosity.
And then, the 15th of Shevat—Tu BiShvat, the New Year of the Trees—arrives in the heart of winter
here in North America, and towards the end of winter in Israel. Even as the world looks dormant,
Judaism invites us to plant, nurture, and dream. It is a New Year that looks forward, challenging us
to imagine a future we may not personally see.
When we view these four New Years together, a pattern emerges. Every Jewish New Year—whether
spiritual, agricultural, historical, or ecological—asks us to do something. To participate. To bless. To
plant. To invite. To reflect. Jewish New Years are not passive moments; they are calls to engagement.
Renewal is not found in champagne or sparklers, but in showing up for one another, repairing what
is broken, and choosing to build a shared future.
As we step into 2026, I hope we can bring that same spirit of active renewal into our Beth El
community. Instead of asking only, “What are my resolutions for the year?” we might also ask, “How
can I help our community grow? Whom can I invite in? Where can my presence make a difference?”
One of the most meaningful ways to participate is by joining the teams that bring our community to
life—whether helping plan Shabbat dinners, contributing to our upcoming Gala (more to come on
that soon!), or lending your time and creativity to one of our many committees that thrive on your
ideas, your energy, and your presence. Each act of engagement strengthens the bonds that make
Beth El a warm, connected, resilient community.
Whether through committee work, joining a minyan, supporting our programs, or simply showing
up for each other, may this January be not just a turning of the calendar, but the start of a season of
meaningful action—one worthy of all our New Years.
B’Shalom,
David
