slid into during the course of a standard year never even had a chance to settle in 5784 , as the entire rhythm of our Jewish lives was upended before we even had an opportunity to put away the white Torah covers of the Yamim Noraim . Our joy and our release which should have arrived never did , replaced with something that we , as individuals and as a people , are still struggling to understand . The pages of this year are stained and mottled with the tears of the past year , where in many ways , we are still frozen in place , waiting for the day after Simchat Torah to begin .
Despite everything , time seems to have passed . In each season of the last year , I found myself surprised . Latkes and sufganiyot felt wrong – how could it be Hanukah when it was still October ? How could we have arrived at Purim , and how could we celebrate in the traditional way , when our hostages still languished in captivity ? How was it Pesach already , with its order , when the world was still erupting in chaos that took different shapes , but didn ’ t seem to end ? How have we somehow lived through an entire year ?
This past year has taught that whether or not it feels right or natural , time does keep moving . We keep existing and shockingly , growing , even as our souls may shout out or try valiantly not to shut down . I personally came to some fragment of peace about the passage of time about nine months into the year . This past summer , my family and I had the opportunity to travel to Sequoia National Park , where we walked amongst trees that were thousands of years old .
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