Rosh Chodesh Av 5786

helengoeslightly
Jul 12
4 min read

Updated: 6 days ago

Month by month. Moon by moon.

Every month, the moon disappears.

For a moment, the sky is dark.

And every month, without fail, the light returns.

Rosh Chodesh—the beginning of the Hebrew month—arrives not at the full moon, but at its absence. Judaism asks us to begin not when everything is bright and obvious, but when hope requires trust.

Perhaps that’s why Jewish tradition has always treated Rosh Chodesh as more than the first day of the month. It is an invitation to begin again.

Jewish Time Is Not Linear

Most of us experience time as a straight line.

January to December.

Monday to Friday.

Birth to death.

Always moving forward.

Judaism offers a different way of understanding time.

Jewish time is less like a line and more like a spiral.

Every year we return to Elul, to Tishrei, to Kislev, to Nissan. We celebrate the same festivals, read the same Torah portions, count the Omer, mourn on Tisha B’Av, rejoice on Purim.

But we never return as the same person.

Life has changed us.

So while the calendar repeats, we don’t. We revisit the same spiritual landscape from a new vantage point, carrying different joys, different griefs, different questions.

The month hasn’t changed.

We have.

The Spiritual Weather of Time

Jewish tradition teaches that every season carries its own spiritual energy.

Just as spring naturally invites growth and winter invites stillness, each Hebrew month offers particular opportunities for inner work.

Whether or not we notice them is another matter.

Think of a computer.

If the monitor is turned off, the computer doesn’t stop running. The operating system is still working beneath the surface. The processes continue whether or not we can see them.

The spiritual world is much the same.

Just because we don’t perceive a spiritual reality doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

It simply means we may miss the invitation.

Or think of a garden.

You can grow tomatoes almost any time with enough technology and effort.

But summer is when tomatoes flourish naturally.

Working with the season doesn’t guarantee a harvest—but it aligns us with the conditions that make growth easier.

Jewish time works similarly.

Each month has its own spiritual climate.

When we learn about the month, gather in community, reflect, pray, and set intentions at Rosh Chodesh, we’re planting seeds in soil uniquely prepared for that kind of growth.

As the moon waxes, perhaps those seeds do too.

Why We Gather

For centuries, Jewish women have marked Rosh Chodesh as a special time.

The Talmud preserves the tradition that women were given Rosh Chodesh as a day of distinction because they did not participate in the sin of the Golden Calf. While the historical details are debated and interpreted in different ways, the result is beautiful: over generations, Rosh Chodesh became associated with women, renewal, and quiet spiritual strength.

In recent decades, women’s Rosh Chodesh circles have flourished around the world.

Some gather to study Torah.

Some sing.

Some bake.

Some journal.

Some simply sit around a table with tea and candlelight.

The form changes.

The purpose remains.

To pause.

To notice.

To begin again intentionally.

In a world that moves relentlessly forward, Rosh Chodesh gently asks us to stop long enough to ask:

What am I carrying into this month?

What am I ready to release?

What kind of person do I hope to become by the next new moon?

The Gift of Av

The month of Av teaches this rhythm especially well.

We begin Av moving toward Tisha B’Av, Judaism’s deepest day of communal mourning. We remember destruction, exile, heartbreak, and everything that still feels unfinished in our world.

Yet within days, the mood begins to shift.

Our tradition teaches that after the deepest descent comes comfort.

After destruction comes rebuilding.

After darkness comes light.

The moon itself reflects this journey.

It disappears completely before it begins to grow again.

Hope is woven into the calendar itself.

Not because suffering is ignored, but because Judaism insists it never has the final word.

A Practice of Emunah

Perhaps this is what Rosh Chodesh has taught me most.

Emunah is not pretending everything is fine.

It is trusting that even when I cannot yet see the light, it is already returning.

Every month, the moon practices this lesson.

Every month, we’re invited to practice it too.

So we gather.

We light candles.

We share a meal.

We study.

We bless the month ahead.

We plant seeds we may not see for weeks.

And together we remember that beginning again is one of the holiest things we can do.

Sources

Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 29a – “When Av enters, we diminish in joy.”
Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 45 – On the association between women and Rosh Chodesh following the Golden Calf.
Babylonian Talmud, Megillah 22b – The Torah reading for Rosh Chodesh.
Genesis 1:14 – The heavenly bodies as markers for sacred times (mo’adim).
Psalm 104:19 – “He made the moon for appointed seasons.”