When I was younger, I would frequently hear adults say that the older they got, the less they knew. I couldn't quite understand what they meant – of course you should know more as you get older. At a certain age we think we know just about everything and that our parents understand nothing, so maybe those adults were just being honest. Or maybe they meant that they couldn't keep up with modern technology (which at the time was probably a rather primitive video game called "pong").

This year, I think I am finally starting to understand. On a global level, the world has changed dramatically from what it was a year ago. The collapse of our financial system, a change in political landscapes, the contraction of communal resources and major changes in organizations and institutions - it's simply not the same world as the one we lived in a year ago. It's a scary new world.

On a personal level, our son made aliyah. I've had the privilege of attending weddings and bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies. People I know have had babies. Lots of people I know graduated from various institutions (some have even gotten jobs!). Others I know have gone to graduate school in many different disciplines. I've deepened friendships and gotten to know quite a few people I didn't know before. It's a joyous world.

I've also had three friends die from cancer in a year's time. It's a sad world, too. Is the world so schizophrenic that it's scary, joyous and sad all at once? How do I explain that?

The easy answer, I suppose, is that the world is complex. People are born and people die every single day. Things that are tragic and scary happen – and things that are full of intense joy and happiness happen as well. That's the way it is. Period. That understanding may have satisfied me when I was young, but now I realize that I simply don't know why. Much of the world is a mystery. Much of it is inexplicable. Much of it is inexcusable. And so much of it is wonderful.

We enter this new year with lots of questions and very few answers. We gather with our communities for reflection and contemplation. We will recite liturgy that arguably is troubling and comforting all at the same time. We will come together as a people because the power of community is strong and comforting. And what I do know is that that's the way it should be.

Life is full of contradictions. We Jews are called Israel because Israel means to struggle with God. It means we confront those contradictions. It means we can celebrate and be sad simultaneously – not because we have an emotional disorder, but because we know that it's precisely those peaks and valleys that make us human. And because we know that, we are empathic. We recognize suffering and know we have to do our best to comfort. We see injustice and know that we need to try and make it right. Why? Because we know – we simply know.

My wish this year is that we have more peaks than valleys and more joy than sorrow. It is also my hope that we create those peaks and that joy for us and for others. Call an elderly relative. Reach out to a friend with whom you've lost contact. Find some time to volunteer somewhere. Sing. Do something nice for yourself. Do something silly. And have a good, sweet, fulfilling and healthy year.