Robert Garber’s Rosh Hashanah Message for 2025

Throughout this past year, I’ve had a tune from the High Holy Days stuck in my head. It’s a bit of an odd one to become an ear worm. It’s not as catchy as Hayom or the High Holy Day nusach for the kaddish. It’s not as visually symbolic as Unetaneh Tokef or as physical as the Viddui. But in the past year, none of these have fixed themselves so firmly in my mind. Instead, the tune that I can’t help but keep humming and whistling, whose notes and words keep coming to my lips before I even realize it, is that of The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy.

These words are, of course, central to the High Holidays, repeated throughout the selichot. But why should I have them so close to the front of my mind for the whole of the past year?

It seems obvious to say that this is a year where we need mercy. In Israel, tens of thousands march daily in defense of the remaining hostages, who they fear have become increasingly isolated from a government putting their lives second, which itself seems to become more and more isolated from the rest of the world, as the civilian death toll from the war continues to rise. In the U.S., political assassinations appear to be on the rise, targeting politicians and political figures from all sides of the aisle, as school shootings have increased for the fifth straight year.

The state of the world, the increase in fear and the difficulty of hope, is demanding our collective conscience to cry out for mercy. Yet I can’t help but wonder if asking for mercy is enough.

I learned a little about the number 13, recently. In addition to its prominence in prayer, and the relevance of the age of bar mitzvah, there is a special symbolism in relation to the number one. The letters in the word echad (alef, chet, dalet), numerically add up to 13 – a sign of the number’s connection to unity.

It seems both unsurprising and wonderous that unity and mercy should be so closely tied together, when the lack of one so clearly leads to lack of the other, yet hope for the latter seems to spring to our lips first and hope for the former last.

I would be remiss to ask for anything I’d never grant myself. I know there are so many people who I struggle to understand, much less agree with, and I know how difficult unity is without understanding.

Perhaps that’s why this prayer has been on my lips all year: A reminder to open myself to embracing unity, a reminder of the distance between where I am and where I yearn to spiritually be, and a reminder that, in the end, it’s not really a matter of choice: Mercy is Mercy. No matter what.

Robert Garber is the Online Content Coordinator for Atlanta Jewish Times.