The Blessing of a New Year in New York

As we welcome the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah 5786, I am reminded not only of the enduring traditions of my people but of the unique blessing of calling New York City home. To live and lead in a city where religious creativity rises higher than the skyscrapers is to dwell in a kaleidoscope of faith, where diversity is not just tolerated but celebrated.

The earliest Jewish settlers of New Amsterdam in the 1650s struggled to gain acceptance, even to serve in the watch that protected their neighbors. Asser Levy, a butcher and leader, stood firm in asserting that Jews should enjoy the rights and responsibilities of other citizens. That fight for inclusion echoes still in the American promise articulated by President George Washington in his 1790 letter to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, RI: “For happily the Government of the United States . . . gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requiring only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.”

That promise—the rejection of bigotry and the embrace of full civic belonging—remains one of the highest ideals we celebrate when we gather for the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashanah is not only about the renewal of Jewish life, but also about the renewal of religious freedom for all people, here in New York City and across America.

Our synagogue, Congregation Or Zarua on the Upper East Side, embodies that ideal through our interfaith partnership. Each year we hold our High Holy Day services in the social hall of Loyola School, a Catholic institution under the wing of the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola. That collaboration is more than a logistical solution; it is an explicit statement of respect and cooperation between faiths. It bespeaks a vision of a city where traditions live side by side, enriching rather than threatening one another. In an age when religious fundamentalism and small-mindedness can so easily take hold, such partnerships are vital signs of hope.

The High Holy Day liturgy asks us to reflect on life and death, the wonder of creation, and the humbling truth that we stand before God, the ultimate arbiter of morality. In our prayers, we affirm that all human beings are created b’tzelem Elohim—in the image of the Divine—and that life itself is sacred. We beat our chests in confession, not to wallow in guilt, but to open ourselves to lives of reflection, compassion, and repair. The commandment “to love your neighbor as yourself” is not abstract; it is a daily discipline that demands we refrain from hateful words, heal fractured relationships, and recommit ourselves to building bridges across differences.

And then there is the shofar. Its cry is primal, jarring, and urgent. It is meant to awaken us from complacency, to call us back to our highest selves. The shofar reminds us that human ingenuity, righteousness, and charitable living can renew the world. It binds us to the natural world—the ram, the earth, the breath that carries the sound—and it binds us to one another as a people who share not only memory but mission.

This year, its call feels especially urgent. Antisemitic incidents continue to make headlines in New York and beyond. Too often we find our community’s pain in the police blotter. Yet the shofar is not only a Jewish wake-up call. It is a summons to all who are proud to be neighbors, to stand together in a democracy where religious freedom is among the highest of values. The sound of the shofar proclaims that identity is not something to be hidden or erased, but something to be cherished and shared in community.

As we step into the year 5786 on the Jewish calendar, the year 2025 in the secular calendar, and as America moves toward its 250th birthday, we celebrate not only continuity but renewal. The High Holy Days remind us that each year is a fresh start, a chance to deepen our humanity, to make the city we love more just, more compassionate, and more alive with the presence of God.

May the year ahead be one of blessing—for Jews, for New Yorkers of every faith, and for all Americans. May we continue to live by Washington’s vision: a government, and a city, that give “to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.” And may the sound of the shofar awaken us all to the holiness of life, the dignity of difference, and the enduring power of community.

Shanah Tovah—A Good and Sweet New Year.

Rabbi Scott N. Bolton is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Zarua synagogue on the Upper East Side. Prior to his rabbinical work, Bolton worked as a marketing-communications coordinator and educational and governmental affairs writer for the International Association of Fire Chiefs.