Several days ago, the world welcomed the year 2022. In Israel, there was no shortage of celebrations, with many calling the holiday Sylvester. However, for over a million of us, this is the holiday of Novy God ("New Year" in Russian).
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I was born in Israel and studied at a girls' religious school, and the civil new year was never part of my world. Because we, the Jewish people, have Rosh Hashanah. I remember my mother, who made aliyah from Moldova in 1978, and my father, who immigrated from Latvia in the 1980s, were very careful to preserve this outlook.
The story of Novy God was seemingly never my story. My identity was always Israeli and at home, we only spoke Hebrew. Even my siblings, who were born in Moldova, are completely Israeli.
Moreover, as an elementary student, I remember my mother "suddenly" developing a Russian accent. Later, of course, it turned out that as a nurse she trained other nurses who immigrated to Israel, and the course was conducted in Russian. Throughout my young adulthood and today, the Israeli society will label me as Russian, a label that I always avoided. Only years later I understood that I was given to me because "Israelis" thought I looked "Russian."
In the last 10 years, I find myself more and more preoccupied with questions of identity. One such persistent question is to what extent pieces of my Russian identity fit into my fully Israeli identity? To what extent is the Russian language which I acquired throughout the years part of my and my parents' identity?
Novy God has become an event that allows me and many others to bridge the gaps in our identities. The holiday enables us to take the "Israeli" identity and the "Russian" identity of our parents and see how they co-exist and enrich each other.
On Novy God, I always listen to my mother's stories of how this holiday was the only non-Communist holiday in the Soviet Union. It was a holiday that was celebrated in every republic, where families gathered to eat traditional foods like herring and Olivier potato salad. It was a day full of joy and free of worries โ a rarity in Soviet times.
This tradition has been reborn in Israel as well. On Novy God, we raise a glass and watch celebratory programs broadcast on Russian television.
When mother asks to sit with her and raise a glass and watch a Russian concert, it is not something "gentile," and certainly it has nothing to do with "Sylvester." It is rather a family experience and a chance to connect to my Israeli roots that made it possible to celebrate in a Jewish state, as well as to my parents' homeland.
And no, we never had a Christmas tree at home. S novym godom!
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