A split scene — spring in Israel beside autumn in the southern hemisphere

Why Does the Bible Have Two Calendars?

This post follows from Where Does the Week Come From?.

Why are there two Hebrew calendars in the Bible? Was only one of them God’s, or are both? If both, what are they for — and how do they fit together?

Day to day we keep the Gregorian calendar; it isn’t biblical, just what the world runs on. In the Bible two calendars matter, both Hebrew. The first is the one anyone who follows the feasts knows: the ecclesiastical calendar, beginning in spring, on Nisan 1.

This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you. (Exodus 12:2)

Notice one thing: Nisan 1 is not a holy day. God names it the start of the year without marking it as a sacred assembly.

The other calendar begins six months later, on Tishrei 1 — the seventh month of the ecclesiastical year. And unlike Nisan 1, this one is a holy day: the day usually called the Feast of Trumpets.

That name is worth a second look, because “trumpet” is only implied — trumpets were blown on the first of every month, not only this one. The actual name is Yom Teruah: a Day of Blowing. Breath, sound, air driven through the lungs. Israel uses other names too — Zicharon Teruah, a remembrance of blowing; Yom Hazikaron, a day of remembrance; Yom Hadin, a day of judgment — but the most common is Rosh Hashanah: Head of the Year. Their civil new year.

So here is the question underneath it all. Scripture declares exactly one beginning of the year, and it is Nisan, in the spring (Exodus 12:2). Yet Israel also starts a year at Tishrei, in the fall, and calls it the head of the year. Did they simply make that up? Or is there a reason — even an ordained one?

Two Puzzles on the Back Burner

I sat with that question a long time, and two other puzzles kept it alive — neither of which I could make fit. I set them both on the back burner for years. Decades, really. I wasn’t going to force a resolution I couldn’t yet see.

The first was the Jubilee.

You shall count seven weeks of years, seven times seven years… Then you shall sound the loud trumpet on the tenth day of the seventh month. On the Day of Atonement you shall sound the trumpet throughout all your land. And you shall consecrate the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land… It shall be a Jubilee for you. (Leviticus 25:8-10)

The fiftieth year — a new year, a year of release — is proclaimed in the seventh month, on the Day of Atonement. The seventh month is Tishrei. If the year only ever begins at Nisan, this new year is announced stranded in the middle of another one. Why does the year turn at Tishrei here?

The second was the rain.

See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it… until it receives the early and the late rains. (James 5:7 ESV)

James is leaning on Joel:

…he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the latter rain as before. (Joel 2:23 ESV)

Early, then latter — a reasonable order, nothing strange about it. Neither verse even says when in the year the rains fall. (Hold one line beside them, though: “the last shall be first, and the first last.” It belongs here — not against how we’ve read it, but into it.)

But read the same two verses in other translations, and they sharpen:

…patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. (James 5:7 NIV)

…he will cause to come down for you the rain, the former rain, and the latter rain in the first month. (Joel 2:23 KJV)

Now they are pinned down. The early rain is autumn’s; the latter rain is spring’s — and the latter rain falls in the first month. There is the snag. The latter rain, the later one, in the first month? The name says late; the calendar says first. And its partner, the early rain, falls in autumn — in Tishrei, the seventh month, late in the year. Named early and latter, the two rains arrive in the reverse of the order their names give them. I read that for the longest time and could not make it sit still. Back burner.

And there was a third thread I could feel but not hold. At Pentecost, when the crowd asked what the rushing wind and the tongues of fire meant, Peter answered by quoting Joel — and the passage he reached for is the very one about those two rains (Acts 2:16-17). He took words that read as future and laid them on what was happening right then. The context of his quote was the rains. I knew that was a clue. I just didn’t get it, for a while.

Where the Calendar Is Kept

What finally moved all of it off the back burner was a single instruction about where the calendar is kept.

When you come into the land that I give you and reap its harvest, you shall bring the sheaf of the firstfruits of your harvest to the priest. (Leviticus 23:10)

The calendar is tied to a real harvest in a real place. The wave sheaf waits on the spring barley; the Feast of Weeks on the spring wheat. Nisan 1 lands in spring because Jerusalem sits at about 32 degrees north latitude. The year begins in spring because that is when, there, the ground gives its first grain.

Jerusalem at 32 Degrees NORTH Latitude
Jerusalem at 32 Degrees NORTH Latitude

But spring depends on where you stand.

Take Perth, Australia — 32 degrees south, the same latitude as Jerusalem, the opposite hemisphere. (Picture keeping Christmas there: sunburned in the dead of summer while the cards still show snow.) When Jerusalem is in spring, Perth is in autumn. Keep God’s own rule in Perth — begin the year in spring, when the harvest comes — and the year begins in Tishrei.

Perth, Australia at 32 Degrees SOUTH Latitude
Perth, Australia at 32 Degrees SOUTH Latitude

There it is. The civil calendar was never arbitrary, and never a second, man-made thing competing with God’s. It is the same ordained rule — begin the year in spring, anchored to the harvest — read from the other side of the earth. Nisan in the north, Tishrei in the south. Both spring. Both firstfruits. Two calendars, two hemispheres, one rule.

And the moment that comes clear, the rain stops running backwards. Stand in the south and read the names again: the early rain, autumn’s rain, falls in Nisan — early in the year, exactly as it says; the latter rain, spring’s rain, falls in Tishrei — later, exactly as it says. From the south, the names run forward. The confusion was never in the text. It was in reading one hemisphere’s words by the other hemisphere’s seasons. One text, holding both ends of the earth at once.

The Framework of the Framework

That is as far as these two calendars are meant to take us here — and nothing like as far as they go. They don’t merely sit side by side; they overlap and alternate and line up in ways that look, at first, downright strange — correspondences that open into something much larger. The feasts lay out a framework — a plan with a shape you can see — but that framework turns out to sit inside a far larger one: a framework of the framework. There is far more here than one post can hold.

I’ll call it mind-blowing, and the everyday word fits — but there is something more fitting still underneath it. The day that opens the civil year is the Day of Blowing: breath, wind, air in motion. Pentecost arrived as a rushing wind. The Spirit is breath. The blowing runs straight through it — and that is its own thread to follow.

As for Peter’s clue — what the rains and the wind and Pentecost are doing together — the early-and-latter question turns out to be less a contradiction than a seam, the place where the last becomes the first. But that is further in than two calendars take us, and it deserves its own telling.

For now it is enough to see that one text was carrying the whole earth all along.

He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. (1 John 2:2)

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