For a good new year, start with gratitude

Gratitude, born of humility, awakens us to the beauty of people and details around us that we too often take for granted.

With war raging in Gaza and in Ukraine, and with America facing deep dangerous division, the High Holiday greeting of “Shanah tovah,” or “Have a happy new year,” seems out of sync with reality. Is there any more suitable formula that we can adopt that would help us navigate these tumultuous times?

A good start may be to recognize that “Shanah tovah” does not mean “Have a happy year,” but “Have a good year.” And truth be told, not everything that is happy is good, and not everything that is good is happy.

I have seen drunkards boast of being happy, though their lives are anything but good. Nearly 40 years ago, when I suffered a heart attack and endured quadruple bypass surgery, I was certainly not happy — the recovery was long and excruciating. Yet, when I recall the doctors, nurses, and staff whose care sustained me, I felt grateful. I felt good. As the Psalmist teaches, “It is good to offer thanks.” Goodness, at its core, is inseparable from gratitude, involving what the rabbis call “hakarat hatov” — recognition of the good.

Even the Hebrew word for “thank you,” “todah,” is rooted in lehodot — “to acknowledge.” A true thank you is never perfunctory; it is a humble admission: I could not have done this without you. Paradoxically, that admission becomes a gateway to inner peace. Fittingly, in the ancient Temple, the thanksgiving offering was itself part of the broader category of peace offerings.

How does this paradox work in practice? Thankfulness requires humility. It acknowledges that we are not self-sufficient, that our lives are interwoven with the care and support of others. In admitting limitation, we begin to experience a deeper sense of wholeness. To say “I cannot do everything” is not a confession of defeat, but an opening to connection. We discover that the very boundaries of our strength and control are what create the space for others to enter our lives.

And when we recognize that truth, something remarkable occurs. We begin to notice and be thankful for the small, often overlooked gifts of the other: the loyalty of family, the kindness of a friend, the courage of a police officer and firefighter, the service of a bus driver, the steadiness of a routine. Gratitude, born of humility, awakens us to the beauty of people and details around us that we too often take for granted.

Practiced together, humility and gratitude create what might be called the atmospherics of love. This is what I call the H+G=L formula. Love does not flourish in a climate of self-sufficiency and pride. It thrives in giving and receiving. It is this love that mellows the soul. If hate, in its passion, has driven humanity to commit terrible deeds, it is love, in its greater passion, that has allowed us to endure.

One of the ways the gift of gratitude comes alive for me these days occurs when encountering IDF soldiers. I feel … Katonti — a profound humility — knowing that Israel would not be, without them. Many of us carry personal stories that reflect this mixture of gratitude and love. Here is mine: our grandson Amichai is about to enlist. In a heartfelt grandfather–grandson conversation, I told him I would prefer he not serve as a fighter. “But Sabi,” he replied, “you wanted my older siblings to be fighters. Why am I different?” I explained, “That was 10, 15 years ago. I was younger then, and stronger. I’ve already done my share (of worrying).” He responded: “Sabi, you’ve done your share. Now it’s time for me to do mine.” We hugged as I whispered in his ear, “Thank you for touching my soul.”

Perhaps the legendary Mister Rogers said it best when recalling his mother’s wisdom on how to deal with scary times: “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I would add: And remember to thank them. Through them, we are reminded that even in the darkest times, there is goodness that should be acknowledged. We may not always feel thankful. But if we speak words of thanks, if we act with gratitude, the feelings will follow.

In this spirit, I offer this meditation daily:

Please, God, help me to give thanks for all the blessings You have bestowed upon me, and help me that my heart not feel heavy with blessings I do not have. And please help me to receive this day with love and with overflowing meaning.

So, this year, may our “Shanah tovah” wishes not only be words of greeting, but also words of gratefulness — spoken to those near and far, whose presence is itself a blessing:

Shanah tovah. May it be a good year, a year of thanksgiving — a year of humility, of gratitude, of love. PJC

Avi Weiss is the founding rabbi of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, Bronx, New York, and founder of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and Yeshivat Maharat rabbinical schools. He is a co-founder of the International Rabbinic Fellowship. This article first appeared on The Times of Israel.