Let The New Year and Its Blessings Begin

On Ahot Ketanah

Ayelet Cohen, Pearl Resnick Dean of the Rabbinical School and Dean of the Division of Religious Leadership, JTS

אָחוֹת קְטַנָּה תְּפִלּוֹתֶיה
עוֹרְכָה וְעוֹנָה תְּהִלּוֹתֶיה
אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לְמַחֲלוֹתֶיה
תִּכְלֶה שָׁנָה וְקִלְלוֹתֶיה

A little sister prepares her prayers and proclaims her praises.
Oh God, please heal her ailments.
Let the year and its curses be over

Across the Mizrahi and Sephardic world and now adopted by many other communities, these words open the service on the first night of Rosh Hashanah. This piyyut, Ahot Ketanah (Little Sister), by the 13th-century Spanish rabbi Abraham Hazan Girondi, was written in a time when the community, vulnerable to religious persecution and disease, had known great suffering in the year that was ending.

We can relate. In a year that was marked by so much loss, fear, and division, it feels difficult to greet a new year with optimism and excitement. We wonder if anything will really be different. And yet we still come to synagogue on the first night of Rosh Hashanah, the sanctuary decorated in white like a new page that has just been turned, and we pray for a new beginning.

Ahot Ketanah occupies a parallel place to Kol Nidrei, before the start of the formal evening liturgy, sung just as the sun begins to set, in the liminal moment between light and darkness where transformation seems possible. The piyyut centers on the metaphor of the little sister, a vulnerable yet resilient figure who inspires us to feel protective. She has endured much hardship in the waning year, and we pray with her and for her so that as the year ends, so will its curses. As the piyyut traces the hardships our “sister” has experienced, we may reflect on our own year. We recall each season and what we experienced and witnessed in our lives and relationships, in the world around us, in Israel and Gaza, and in our home communities. The pain of this past year was profound. Many of us felt deeply isolated and vulnerable in ways that felt like the realization of our worst fears. As the New Year begins, we may wonder how to move forward.

The words of this piyyut are not about false optimism or empty promises. They give voice to the grief and loss of the previous year, while making room for hope.

The last stanza allows us to imagine a new beginning. It invites us to open ourselves to the joy that would come if we were able to rally around those most vulnerable, and to acknowledge and heal the vulnerable parts within us. If we fulfill our part of the covenant to not succumb to despair and to work toward justice, we might find God there.

חִזְקוּ וְגִילוּ כִּי שֹׁד גָּמַר
לְצוּר הוֹחִילוּ בְּרִיתוֹ שָׁמַר
לָכֶם וְתַעֲלוּ לְצִיּוֹן וְאָמַר
סֹלּוּ סֹלּוּ מְסִלּוֹתֶיהָ
תָּחֵל שָׁנָה וּבִרְכוֹתֶיהָ

Be strong and rejoice, for the trauma is ended.
Hope in the Rock; fulfill the covenant.
You will ascend to Zion and say:
Pave the way!
Let the New Year and its blessings begin.

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