The Head of the Year

My dear Friends
Today is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Unable to get to the Synagogue, as I have a heavy cold, I felt it important to make an entry on the blog so have struggled down to the corner of Spadina and Bloor, to the Joy internet cafe. I have just bought a beautiful big apple and some lovely honey in the Muslim shop further up the street. When I entered the internet cafe, run by Gabriel, we were joined by a guest called Ivona, while I said the Hebrew blessing over fruit, cut up the apple, and poured the honey over, in the hope to have a shana tova umetukah - a good and sweet year. May it be a peaceful one for all of us.

You may wonder why the title of this piece is head of the year. The Hebrew word rosh actually means head, and I have a rather poignant story to share with you about this. Some years ago I was asked to visit a lady in her fifties, who had been completely unable to move for some time. She was born in Russia, been a ballerina, and even when already crippled had directed a ballet troupe. I went and chatted with her by her bedside in Cambridge, accompanied by her four cats! I suggested that I might sing to her with my guitar the next time. She agreed, and love the Jewish music I sang to her.

I told her it might be a little while before I saw her again as it was going to be the Jewish New Year. As I was on the point of leaving and at the door, she called out: When did you say it would be the Head of the Year?' I had not mentined the word head, so I reckoned it came straight up from her subconscious. And her deep association with the Jewish people.

Soon after, she died, and I sang Jerusalem of Gold in Hebrew with my guitar at her funeral.

A new beginning for her, and me, and may it be so for all of you.
With heartfelt New Year greetings and Shalom
Sister Gila