We are just a few days from New Year 5777, and I sense excitement in the air. For Jews, the High Holidays are the spiritual Olympics; it’s time to stretch and give it all we can. It’s time to win ourselves back like an Olympic medal. In a few days, the moon will disappear and will reemerge in the new year.

Numerous theories explain why the Jewish people follow the cycle of the moon, even though adjusting to the movement of the sun. But last Saturday night, I saw the reason with my own eyes and felt it in my own heart. When we gathered at 7 p.m. with our friends from the North Fork Reform Synagogue for a Havdalah service on the Fourth Street beach in Greenport, we witnessed one of the most beautiful signs of God’s creation — the sunset. Half an hour later, we were ready to bless creation, saying goodbye to Shabbat and acknowledge its distinction from the six days of work. At that point, a full, perfectly round moon began to emerge over Shelter Island, directly in front of us. It was as though we were witnessing a slow, upward birth. A moonrise.

Moonrise is very different from a sunrise or a sunset, which tends to be romanticized in our mind and in our lives. It’s not often that people take the time to watch a moonrise. True, it may not be as colorful as a blazing red sunset, yet it surely projects its own drama, which seems to be understated, underrated. So why is it that every day in the Jewish calendar begins and ends with the moon and not the sun? A day on the Jewish calendar begins 18 minutes after sunset and ends about an hour after the following sunset. The moon is there like a sturdy bookend.

One of the verses of creation states: “And God made the two great luminaries; the greater luminary to rule the day, and the lesser luminary to rule the night…” (Genesis 1:16)  The beginning of the verse mentions two great luminaries, yet the second part qualifies them as a greater luminary and a lesser luminary. The Talmud (Chullin 60b) deals with this contradiction and attempts to bridge the gap. The Midrash describes them as the sun and the moon with the notion that originally they had the same stature.

What follows is a discourse between God and a luminary that “sheds light” on Jewish philosophy:

“Sovereign of the Universe! Is it possible for two kings to share one crown?”

God answered: “Go then and reduce yourself.”

“But Sovereign of the Universe, just because I pointed out that which makes sense, I should reduce myself?”

In an attempt to appease the luminary, God replied: “Go and rule the day and the night.”

“But what is the value of this?” the luminary asked. “Of what use is a lamp in broad daylight?”

And God replied once again: “Go, Israel shall reckon by you the days and the years.”

Somehow the moon better captures the nature of our Jewish life and our connection to the divine. God was happy to let us sit next to Him and share His throne. He sees us as His co-creators. But it is we who keep rejecting our place next to Him. It is we who keep asking: How can two kings share one crown? The sun, of course, is beautiful and steady, but our lives as human beings more closely resemble the moon — different every day. Following the moon should remind us that sometimes it is good to “reduce” ourselves and be humble — the ultimate goal of Jewish life.

May we all have another Shanah Tova u’Metuka — a happy and sweet year!