Unetaneh Tokef: Judith Prinsley
No prayer more powerfully defines the image of the Days of Awe than does Unetaneh Tokef. The language is simple, the imagery strong, the rhythms insistent and the drama intense.
Its central theme is the Day of Judgment, when every living being passes before God and their fate for the coming year is inscribed.
Core Themes
- Awe and Judgment: The prayer vividly describes God opening the “book of memory,” reviewing each person’s deeds and determining their destiny.
- Human Frailty: It emphasizes the fragility of human life—“from dust… to dust,” fleeting like a shadow or vanishing dream.
- Hope and Agency: Despite its stark imagery, the prayer affirms that repentance, prayer, and charity can avert the severity of the decree.
We need to try and sublimate all our emotions in to asking , begging, demanding with all our body and soul to be given the privilege of another year of life
On a personal note, this prayer highlights the importance and power of reflection. It reminds us that through repentance and prayer, a person can make a genuine change in their approach to life.
Shofar : Tal Sarig
I’d like to share a few thoughts about what the shofar means to me. When we hear the shofar being blown, we’re not just hearing a sound. We’re hearing something that has connected Jewish people across thousands of years and across the entire world.
The shofar is one of the oldest traditions in Judaism. Generations of Jews have heard its sound — from ancient communities thousands of years ago, to Jewish communities today in Israel, London, America and everywhere in between. Even though our lives may look completely different, the sound of the shofar is something we can all recognise.
What I find the most powerful is that it has remained a constant despite everything Jewish people have experienced. Through exile, persecution, wars and enormous changes in the world, Jews have continued to gather and blow the shofar year after year.
But the shofar isn’t only a reminder of our past. On Rosh Hashanah, its sound can also be seen as a call to wake up, to reflect on the year that has passed, and to make a new beginning. It encourages us to think about what we want to change and what kind of people we want to become.
So when I hear the shofar in our synagogue, I feel connected both backwards and forwards — to the generations of Jews who heard it before me, and to the new year ahead.
To me, that makes the shofar more than a tradition. It is a reminder of where we come from, what connects us, and the opportunity we have to begin again.
Shana tova
Rona Bar- Isaac: Ochila La El
The prayer we are about to hear, Ochila La El is a plea for eloquence. The experience it looks to capture is one each of us will know – being full of a strong feeling but at a loss for how to do justice to it in words – whether that is telling someone how much you love them, expressing anger and hurt or finding the right phrase to comfort a mourner and capture the essence of someone who has gone. The gap between what is inside and what comes out of our mouths is just too huge. These strong feelings need more, and this prayer is a beautiful poem full of alliteration and music. In preparing for today I found several different and moving sung versions in a range of tunes and styles – one for after yom tov, but they are worth exploring. Somehow, the fullest expression of the human heart has to reach for art.
So what is the Chazan is looking for? It’s the words and, the song, to praise God properly. In some ways that is a really peculiar thing to do – asking God for the words to praise God. The key, I think is that this all takes place “in the midst of the community”. As we come into the core part of the Rosh Hashana service the task is to distil all our hopes, fears, desires and aspirations, move us and inspire us to put them into service for a good year ahead. As the prayer says, we can arrange our own thoughts and feelings for ourselves, but God gives us the words. I don’t know that God that needs our eloquence though. The words are for us. Shana Tova.
Helen Style: Malchuyot – Who Is Really in Charge?
Malchuyot is the first of the three central themes of the Rosh Hashanah Musaf Amidah – Malchuyot, or kingship, followed by Zichronot – Remembrance – and Shofarot – the shofar.
Luckily for you, I’m only doing one of them!
When we get to Malchuyot, we proclaim God as King and recognise that there is something greater than ourselves – something my family may well think I find quite hard to accept!
But actually, this is what I like about Malchuyot.
Because I don’t think it has to be about imagining God sitting on some enormous heavenly throne. For me, it’s more about stopping for a moment and asking myself a fairly simple question:
Who is actually in charge of my life?
Because most of the time, I like to think I am.
And anyone who knows me and Phil knows that it definitely isn’t him!
I make plans. I organise things. I like to know what’s going on. I occasionally worry about things that haven’t happened yet – and sometimes things that probably never will. And, every now and then, I even know where I’ve left my keys.
I like being in control.
And then Rosh Hashanah comes along and gives me a little reminder:
You’re not actually in charge of everything.
And, strangely enough, I find that quite comforting.
Because for me, Malchuyot isn’t just about God being King. It also makes me think about what I allow to become the important things in my own life.
What do I spend my time thinking about? What do I give too much importance to? What am I constantly worrying about?
Because there are plenty of things that can quietly become our “kings” without us really noticing – work, money, success, what other people think of us, or simply our own worries.
And sometimes we can spend an enormous amount of time worrying about things that, when we step back, really aren’t that important.
That’s what I think Malchuyot gives us the chance to do – just step back for a moment and get things into perspective.
To remember that there is something bigger than my own plans, frustrations and worries. And that perhaps I don’t need to have everything under control all the time.
I also think there is something quite powerful about saying the same ancient words every Rosh Hashanah.
The words stay the same.
But we don’t.
Every year we come to them slightly differently, depending on what’s happened since the last Rosh Hashanah – the good things, the difficult things, the things we’re hopeful about and the things we’re still trying to make sense of.
So this year, when I say Melech, I hope it reminds me to loosen my grip a little.
To have a bit more faith.
And to think about what I really want to put at the centre of my life in the year ahead.
Because maybe Malchuyot isn’t about giving up control altogether.
Maybe it’s simply about recognising that I was never completely in control anyway.
And perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.
So, if I can remember all of that for more than five minutes before I start worrying about where I’ve parked the car, I’ll consider Malchuyot a success.
Eileen Yacov : Zikronot
During the Musaf service on Rosh Hashanah, right between crowning Hashem as King and hearing the sound of the shofar, we say a special prayer called Zichronot.
On the surface, Zichronot is about memory. It reminds us that Hashem sees everything and is always with us.
However, when you look deeper into the prayer, we can see the importance of the covenant that God made with the Jewish people.
In Zichronot, the word covenant is repeated 10 times. The covenant is the biggest and most important deal the Jews have ever made. The covenant is a promise that can’t be broken.
However, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks taught that a covenant is not a business contract where two people protect their own interests, but a shared partnership of trust and love where two parties commit to building a future together. In Zichronot, when Hashem remembers that bond, He is telling us that He believes in us, and by keeping our promises and doing mitzvot, we show that we believe in Him right back.
What I love about Zichronot is that it takes us on a journey through Tanach, reminding us of our ancestors and what they did to build the Jewish people into what we are today.This teaches us that in Judaism it isn’t just thinking about remembering; it is about actively doing something that builds a stronger connection with Hashem.
As we stand together as a community on this holy day, Zichronot asks each of us to take our ancestors’ dedication and carry it forward. Hashem remembers His promise to us, and we remember our promise to Hashem, through kindness and through doing more mitzvot.
I hope you have an enjoyable and meaningful Rosh Hashanah. Shana Tova Umetuka.
Gill Hyatt: Yizkor
Yizkor is always a quiet moment in the day, a moment to pause, to remember, and to let the people who shaped our lives come close again. This year, as we reach Yizkor, many of us with connections to North Manchester will think back to what happened last year at Heaton Park Shul in Crumpsall.
Heaton Park is a familiar and meaningful place for my Manchester family, somewhere they always felt connected. Last year was especially hard, as we buried my father-in-law on Erev Yom Kippur, with Rabbi Walker of Heaton Park Shul officiating just a couple of hours before the fast began. We went to Heaton Park Shul for Kol Nidre that evening.
The following morning came the deeply shocking terrorist attack. Something unspeakably painful had encroached upon a space that should always feel safe. But when we look back now, what stands out just as much is how people responded – with calm, with strength, and with an instinct to support one another. Even in a frightening moment, there was a lot of goodness and courage.
Yizkor asks us to remember those we’ve lost, but it also reminds us of the values they left us: resilience, kindness, and the ability to hold onto hope even when things feel uncertain. Last year’s events showed that communities can be shaken, but they can also steady themselves again. They can heal. They can grow stronger.
As we say Yizkor today, we hold two types of memory:
Personal memory for the people we miss and the love they gave us.
And Communal memory. The shared experience of a community facing difficulties, and the strength that follows.
From both, we draw hope that the values of those we have lost continue through us. Hope that communities can recover even after painful moments, we find our way back through connection, prayer, and peace.
Some of us may feel emotional today. Some may feel grateful simply to be here, together, in shul. All of that belongs in Yizkor. It is a space big enough for grief, for memory, and for hope.
Whether we stay inside or step outside, this moment is ours — a moment to honour those we’ve lost, to acknowledge what happened last year, and to remind ourselves that memory is not only about the past. It is also about how we choose to move forward, with strength, with kindness, and with hope.
May this Yizkor bring comfort and peace to all of us.