The Last Hour of My Life

The bust of Two-faced Janus (Ianus Bifrons) at the Cameron’s Gallery in Tsarskoye Selo 18th century.

I am seventy-three years old and still making New Year’s resolutions, two sets, one for the Jewish New Year, which I made this past September, and another for the Gregorian one, which I’ve been working on this month. 

This time around, I also wanted to learn about the history of making New Year’s resolutions. I was surprised to discover how old the custom is. From what I learned, it appears to go back over 4,000 years to ancient Babylon. The Babylonians celebrated their new year in what on the Gregorian calendar would be called mid-March, the time for planting crops. During a festival known as Akitu, they promised their gods to pay off their debts and return borrowed items, hoping to receive blessings in the upcoming year. These are not bad resolutions; I know some people I wish would make and keep them.

Like the Babylonians, the Romans also made promises to their god Janus, for whom the month of January is named. Janus was the god of beginnings and transitions and had two faces—one looking back at the past and the other looking forward to the future. This idea of looking back and looking forward captures the heart of making resolutions. Like the Babylonians, the Romans believed that by making promises and resolutions, they could receive blessings for the new year.

For Jews, this process became formalized in the High Holidays. In his book Jewish Holidays, American Rabbi Michael Strassfeld writes:

In its narrowest sense, the cycle is composed of Rosh ha-Shanah (the first two days of the month of Tishri)…and Yom Kippur (Tishri 10). Whatever the original origin of these festivals…they are today a celebration of the beginning of the new year and a striving for atonement of our misdeeds of the past year. Both elements, reflected respectively in Rosh ha-Shanah as the New Year and Yom Kippur as the Day of Atonement, are present in this period, though over time the themes of repentance, judgment and atonement of Yom Kippur have become predominant. [Strassfeld, Michael. Jewish Holidays (p. 95). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.] 

These ancient traditions have evolved in modern times, and nowadays, people often make resolutions about personal improvement, health, relationships, and other areas of their lives. While the specific customs and beliefs surrounding New Year’s resolutions have changed, reflecting on the past and setting intentions for positive change in the future remains a common practice in many cultures worldwide.

While considering resolutions for New Year this year, I found an intriguing one by the American theologian Jonathan Edwards (1703–1758): “Resolved, never to do anything which I should be afraid to do if it were the last hour of my life.” Seventy Resolutions [1722–1723]. For Edwards, the fear he’s referring to was probably rooted in the fear of hellfire. Edwards was focused on resolutions for Christians desiring to live a Christian life. That idea does not seem as powerful today as it was in Edwards’ time. Today, people may feel more comfortable saying ” ashamed,” or “embarrassed” than “afraid.” The idea of eternal punishment was never rooted in Jewish thought. Maybe eternal torment wasn’t, but consider this excerpt from Pirkei Avot 2:1.

Reflect upon three things and you will never come to sin: Know what is above you — an Eye that sees, an Ear that hears, and all your deeds are recorded in a Book. [Bogomilsky, Rabbi Moshe. Vedibarta Bam: And You Shall Speak of Them – Pirkei Avot. Kindle Edition.] 

So, what’s with the recorded-in-book thing? I don’t know about you, but that idea makes me nervous enough. But, whether you have Edwards’ understanding or that of Pirkei Avot, it’s hard to keep this type of sentiment ever-present in one’s mind; it’s just too gloomy. I kept looking. And I found one I like better. It is a supremely simple idea, and I was pleased to learn that The New Yale Book of Quotations has sourced it. 

Oh, God, give us courage to change what must be altered, serenity to accept what cannot be helped, and insight to know the one from the other. [The Woman’s Press, Mar. 1933.]

Winnifred Crane Wygal U.S. social service organization official, 1884–1972. Shapiro, Fred R.; Menand, Louis. The New Yale Book of Quotations (p. 907). Yale University Press. Kindle Edition. 

For many years, I have admired the Serenity Prayer, stated a little differently, and attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr. Niebuhr’s version is from 1937, though. Note the date of Wygal’s formulation.

So that’s my Gregorian New Year’s Resolution—to act courageously to change what must be altered, to be at peace with what can’t be helped, and to work on knowing the difference. There is also one minor change. In my resolution, “give us” became “give me.” I also plan to start small, to begin with just me.

May 2024 bring peace, real and lasting peace to all creation!

All the best,
Gershon

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Author: Gershon Ben-Avraham

Gershon Ben-Avraham is an American-Israeli writer. He lives in Beersheba, Israel, on the edge of the Negev Desert. He and his wife share their lives with a gentle blue-merle long-haired collie and a crazy wild rescued kitten. Ben-Avraham earned an MA in Philosophy (Aesthetics) from Temple University. His short story “Yoineh Bodek” (Image) received “Special Mention” in the Pushcart Prize XLlV: Best of the Small Presses 2020 Edition. Kelsay Books published his chapbook “God’s Memory” in 2021. ברסלב‎

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