Rosh Hashanah is called "Reishis Hashanah," the beginning of the year, the foundation of everything to come (Rosh Hashanah 16b).
In the Torah, we see a consistent pattern. Hashem places special value on the firsts. We sanctify the firstborn, offer the first shearing of wool, bring the first fruits to the Beis Ha-mikdash, and dedicate the first moments of our day to tefillah. Why?
At first glance, it might seem like the Torah is suggesting that the first is always the best. But the truth is that the first isn't necessarily the best. Sometimes the second, third, or tenth turns out better. So why does Hashem care about the first?
The answer lies not in the quality of the first, but in its role. The first sets the pattern. It becomes the foundation upon which everything else rests. And in anything foundational—whether it’s a structure, a seed, or a neshama—even the tiniest flaw can ripple outward. A hairline crack in the foundation of a building can cause the entire structure to collapse. A microscopic mutation in the root of a plant will show up in its branches and fruit. A genetic defect at the level of DNA can affect the development of an entire person.
But a blemish on the third floor? A scratch on a leaf? A freckle on a finger? These don’t undermine the whole. That’s why the Torah teaches us to offer the first to Hakadosh Baruch Hu. The first is the root. The beginning shapes everything that follows. So we give it our fullest attention, our deepest care and our highest devotion.
This concept sheds light on why we act with extra care and intention during the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance. You’ll find people during this period who push themselves to daven with more kavanah (concentration), give more tzedakah, and avoid leniencies they might usually rely on.
Take the example of pas palter, bread baked by a non-Jewish commercial bakery. According to the Shulchan Aruch, such bread is permitted if no similar Jewish-baked bread is available, and yet during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva, we strive to avoid it (Orach Chaim 603:1). Why is this? Isn’t this a kind of spiritual posturing? Are we pretending to be frummer than we really are, only to go back to “normal” after Yom Kippur? Is this fooling Hashem?
No. It’s not hypocrisy. It’s wisdom. When someone builds a house, they may not be able to afford top-tier materials for every wall and window. But for the foundation, they use the very best. Because if the base is compromised, the whole house is vulnerable.
That’s the logic of these ten days. Maybe we can’t sustain this level all year. Maybe we’ll go back to our regular pace in tefillah and our usual habits in halachah. But during these first days, we're building the foundation. And that demands more.
We give Hashem our “first fruits, not because they’re the sweetest, but because they’re the first. They define the rest. And so too, the way we begin the year defines the tone of our entire spiritual journey.
Parshas Ki Savo speaks about bringing bikkurim, first fruits, to the Beis HaMikdash. It’s not a coincidence that it coincides with Rosh Hashanah. It’s a reminder that the first always matters and that the first sets the direction. So during these days, don’t be afraid to stretch yourself. Daven a little longer, give a little more tzedakah, speak a little more gently even if you know you won’t keep it all year.
Because this is the root. This is the reishis. And from a strong beginning, everything becomes possible.
