On my way to work tonight, I picked up some apples and honey, plus a pound of rugelach. I sliced the apples when I got in and laid it all out for my co-workers, who seem pleased. (It's hard to get them to eat the apples though--apples go brown about five minutes after they're sliced, unless you put lemon juice on them or whatever it is Heloise advises.) It was just something I wanted to do. I've done it before, too, at one or more other jobs. Jewish holidays make me feel nostalgic for old traditions.
For one thing, I like the sense that there's our time and there's God's time—the calendar year, and the spiritual year. To borrow from Rudy Vallee, God's time is our time, but He also imbues days and seasons with meanings of His own. I find the cycles of the Jewish year beautiful, and beautiful too are the ways that they correlate to the weekly Torah parashiot. In addition, the last year brought me a lot to be thankful for, and I feel the need and desire to show gratitude to God by saying the shehechiyanu over an apple slice dipped in honey.
