 | It happens every month: the moon waxes and wanes, marking planetary time quietly above our heads. It happens every year: three full moons set our course from winter to spring, from concealed to revealed, from bondage to liberation. Those three full moons now begin. Ready or not, spring is on its way – and I, for one, am ready. |
By Rabbi David
I write this February 2026 column from an airplane somewhere over the Great Plains en route to Los Angeles for my Institute for Jewish Spirituality residency. I look forward to sharing with you some of what I learn and experience.
I confess a measure ambivalence. My love for winter diminished with age, but I still love snowstorms with childlike delight.
By the time you read these words, we'll know whether Winter Storm Fern turned out to be a dud, a routine winter event, a snowbeast or a snowpocalypse. Especially if it's a full-fledged snowmageddon, I'll especially miss the sound immediately after the snow ends. Before snow blowers blow, before modern life tries to lurch forward, before even the wind starts to shove snow off tree branches, there's only silence snuggled under a thick blanket of white.
The quiet is so deep that I can hear the wingbeats of the first bird overhead. It's awesome.
My disappointment in missing the storm is tempered, of course, by visions of jackpot Los Angeles weather: sunny 72ºF every day. It's bound to whet my appetite for spring.
It's well-timed for this February column because, Jewishly, spring this year begins the evening of February 1. Yes, you read that right.
I write this February 2026 column from an airplane somewhere over the Great Plains en route to Los Angeles for my Institute for Jewish Spirituality residency. I look forward to sharing with you some of what I learn and experience.
I confess a measure ambivalence. My love for winter diminished with age, but I still love snowstorms with childlike delight.
By the time you read these words, we'll know whether Winter Storm Fern turned out to be a dud, a routine winter event, a snowbeast or a snowpocalypse. Especially if it's a full-fledged snowmageddon, I'll especially miss the sound immediately after the snow ends. Before snow blowers blow, before modern life tries to lurch forward, before even the wind starts to shove snow off tree branches, there's only silence snuggled under a thick blanket of white.
The quiet is so deep that I can hear the wingbeats of the first bird overhead. It's awesome.
My disappointment in missing the storm is tempered, of course, by visions of jackpot Los Angeles weather: sunny 72ºF every day. It's bound to whet my appetite for spring.
It's well-timed for this February column because, Jewishly, spring this year begins the evening of February 1. Yes, you read that right.
On the Jewish calendar, the next three full moons chart our springtime journey, leading to Passover in early April. We can literally look up at the night sky and track where we are on the journey, and what comes next. And at the third full moon, Jews worldwide will gather at Passover Seder tables to celebrate liberation and rededicate ourselves to global freedom from tyranny.
Put another way, "Count to three, and we go free."
ONE! First up is the full moon of the Jewish month of Shevat: the 15th day of Shevat, which we call Tu b'Shevat (February 1-2). In Israel, the first almond trees will blossom, and all trees will celebrate a mystical birthday. Here in U.S. Snow City, we will begin training our inner eye to see the sap rise before its proof physically appears. Our February 6 contemplative Shabbat will aim us in that direction.
TWO! Next is the full moon of the Jewish month of Adar, which is Purim (March 2-3). What is concealed – hope, Jewish identity, the Sacred's hand – is revealed. We bust up the winter gloomies with costumes and celebration. This year, we'll bring in Purim a bit early: don't miss our February 28 evening Havdalah and Purim-costume social.
THREE! Climactic spring begins. Clocks "spring ahead." First flowers bloom. The sun angle accelerates its rise in the daytime sky. The next full moon, midway into the Jewish month of Nisan, launches Passover (begins sunset April 1). The seemingly impossible happens. Even the greatest tyrant falls. We get a new lease on life. We celebrate liberations of days gone by, and we recommit to the continuing flow of freedom from every form of modern bondage.
Our ancestors were more attuned to nature's ebb and flow than many of us moderns are, but the moon's wax and wane still beckons us. Train the eye to look. Tend the stillness. Bust up the winter doldrums. Gaze up and watch. Count to three. Freedom is up ahead.
Happy spring. (Oh, and pitchers and catchers report in just a few weeks....)
Put another way, "Count to three, and we go free."
ONE! First up is the full moon of the Jewish month of Shevat: the 15th day of Shevat, which we call Tu b'Shevat (February 1-2). In Israel, the first almond trees will blossom, and all trees will celebrate a mystical birthday. Here in U.S. Snow City, we will begin training our inner eye to see the sap rise before its proof physically appears. Our February 6 contemplative Shabbat will aim us in that direction.
TWO! Next is the full moon of the Jewish month of Adar, which is Purim (March 2-3). What is concealed – hope, Jewish identity, the Sacred's hand – is revealed. We bust up the winter gloomies with costumes and celebration. This year, we'll bring in Purim a bit early: don't miss our February 28 evening Havdalah and Purim-costume social.
THREE! Climactic spring begins. Clocks "spring ahead." First flowers bloom. The sun angle accelerates its rise in the daytime sky. The next full moon, midway into the Jewish month of Nisan, launches Passover (begins sunset April 1). The seemingly impossible happens. Even the greatest tyrant falls. We get a new lease on life. We celebrate liberations of days gone by, and we recommit to the continuing flow of freedom from every form of modern bondage.
Our ancestors were more attuned to nature's ebb and flow than many of us moderns are, but the moon's wax and wane still beckons us. Train the eye to look. Tend the stillness. Bust up the winter doldrums. Gaze up and watch. Count to three. Freedom is up ahead.
Happy spring. (Oh, and pitchers and catchers report in just a few weeks....)
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