Yep, it sneaks up the same way it always does. One day it’s late December, the next it’s a new year—fresh calendar, same questions.

The world celebrates as if something has turned. And maybe it has. But time doesn’t flip like a switch. It inches forward. Quietly. Constantly.

So here we are again—standing at the edge of a new year.

Let’s be real here… the new year doesn’t reset time. But it does provide an opportunity to decide what we carry forward over another threshold, another chance to notice what we’re bringing over, and why. The conditions remain what they are—and time moves forward either way. The only variable is whether we engage consciously—or stay on autopilot.

But years are only one type of gap.There are divisions between people. Chasms inside families. Discrepancies created by words spoken without restraint—or, conversely, by truths withheld when they mattered. Separation  between who we are in private and who we present to the world. And yes, most importantly, the distances between us and G-d.

Bridges exist because separation is real, and something must be constructed to span the divide. Scripture never asks us to pretend otherwise.

From the beginning, human life is marked by distance, dichotomy, duality: between heaven and earth, between light and dark, between intention and action.

Our task is not to deny the gaps exists. The task is to create integrity in the face of that separation.

A bridge between years is not a fresh start. It is an accounting.

What will we carry forward only because we refused to set it down? What did we try to build on a foundation that was already compromised? What have those errors already cost us?

A wise builder doesn’t build upward until they know what the foundation can bear. Anything else is failure delayed.

And it's not just what we build— it’s what we build with. Regret isn't a strong enough beam. Nostalgia isn't a secure fastener. Ego snaps under pressure. Use what lasts: truth, accountability, patience, courage.

So, with each new year we must ask a hard question: What still belongs on this bridge—and what doesn’t?

We like to say “let’s build bridges” when what we really mean is “let’s stop being uncomfortable.” But that’s not a bridge. That’s just avoidance. A real bridge between people does not erase difference. It acknowledges it, then engineers around it. You don’t meet in the middle by pretending the gap isn’t there. You meet in the middle by building something strong enough to hold truth, without collapsing.

Some bridges between people must be rebuilt again and again. Some should never be built at all. On this, the Scripture is clear: peace is not the highest value. Truth is. Peace that costs truth is just a collapse waiting to happen. Not every burned bridge is a failure. Some were meant to burn so you’d stop returning to the same circumstances that broke you before.

And what about bridges to G-d?

This may be the most misunderstood bridge of all.

Many people think the bridge to G-d is belief. Or purity. Or perfection. The Hebrew Scriptures say otherwise. The bridge to G-d is action aligned with truth. You don’t cross by thinking holy thoughts. You cross by taking just action. You don’t reach heaven by escaping earth; you reach it by repairing what’s broken here. Every mitzvah is a plank. Every act of restraint is a cable. Every moment you choose integrity over convenience, you reinforce the structure.

And here’s the most important part: G-d is not standing on the far side waiting for you to arrive. G-d is present in the act of building itself. When you refuse to cut corners. When you tell the truth even when it costs you. When you connect instead of perform. That is the bridge that connects to the Infinite.

Other Bridges We Forget:

There are bridges between intention and follow-through. Between insight and discipline. Between knowing and becoming. There are bridges inside us—between fear and courage, grief and meaning, power and responsibility. Most suffering comes not from the gulf, but from the standing forever on one side and never crossing.

The invitation of the new year: This year does not need your declarations. It needs your authenticity. Build fewer bridges, but build them better. Measure twice. Anchor deeply. Test what you build with real weight. Bridges do not hold because we believe in them. They hold because they were built to.

So as this year 2026 begins, may we be granted clarity rather than comfort. May we have the courage to set down what no longer belongs in our hands, even if we’ve carried it for a long time. May we be honest about the ground we stand on, disciplined in the work repair demands, and patient enough to build only what can actually hold. May our actions align with what is true, our words carry weight, and our silences speak just as honestly. And may the bridges we build—between years, between people, between earth and heaven, and between ourselves and G-d —be deliberately engineered to bear us across.

Amen