by Xinhua writer Wang Zhuolun
JERUSALEM, Sept. 13 (Xinhua) -- "Calm."
That was Gal's one-word wish for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.
He was busy serving customers at his fruit stall in Jerusalem's Mahane Yehuda Market, which bustled with shoppers preparing for the holiday. This year, Rosh Hashanah began at sundown on Friday and ended after nightfall on Sunday.
Pomegranates rose in crimson heaps. Apples and dates filled the stands, while jars of honey lined shop counters. Golden loaves of freshly baked challah -- the traditional Jewish bread served on the Sabbath and festivals -- glowed in bakery windows, their yeasty aroma drifting across the market.
"People may buy a little less, but the New Year still has to be celebrated," said Gal, a longtime vendor at the market who preferred not to give his surname.
According to Jewish tradition, families dip apples in honey during the festive meal as a wish for a sweet year ahead. In synagogues, the shofar -- a ram's horn -- is sounded, its piercing call symbolizing spiritual awakening: an invitation to reflect, renew and begin again.
But after nearly three years in a state of war, the idea of "beginning again" carries particular weight in Israel this year, with hopes for a calmer year still clouded by uncertainty.
Since the latest round of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict erupted on Oct. 7, 2023, fighting has repeatedly broken out, paused, and flared again.
Israel carried out large-scale military operations not only in the Gaza Strip but also in Lebanon, Syria, and Yemen, while the regional conflict escalated into direct warfare involving Israel and the United States on one side and Iran on the other.
For many Israelis, the effects of the war have been felt far beyond the battlefield. It has also left its mark on the rhythms of everyday life.
At Tel Aviv's Carmel Market, an Israeli shopper who identified herself as Amit picked out several large red apples for her family's New Year dinner.
"Everything is getting more expensive, so you have to think twice before buying things," she said.
But whatever the cost, she added, her family would still gather around the table for the holiday meal.
Across Israel, people have learned to switch quickly between emergency and routine.
When sirens sound, people rush into shelters. Soon after the all-clear, traffic jams return and cafes fill up again. Reservists leave the battlefield for offices, universities and homes, never knowing when another late-night call-up notice may arrive.
In such circumstances, "returning to normal" has come to mean piecing together an ordinary life amid persistent uncertainty.
During the New Year holiday, joggers moved along the promenade, children played in the sand, and groups of young people sat by the water, watching the sun sink slowly into the Mediterranean.
Joshua, a recent university graduate who asked his full name not be mentioned, was shooting the breeze with some friends on the beach. Over the past three years, he had spent 230 days on reserve duty at the front while trying to finish his degree.
"I don't think we've returned to normal," he said. "There is constant talk again about another war with Iran. It's difficult for this country to really be 'normal.'"
Asked about his wish for the new year, he laughed.
"I hope this year can be a little more boring," he said.
After years of war, even a quiet year can feel like a distant hope. The fighting has left deep scars, while questions about security, military service and the country's future remain unsettled.
Israel is also heading toward a new parliamentary election on Oct. 27, adding another layer of uncertainty.
For many here, however, the wish for the new year is something simpler.
A little calm. ■
