When I was a pulpit rabbi, way back when, I was convinced I had the hardest and most important job of anyone for the High Holy Days: I had to write the sermons.

True, there were those who toiled in seating, chazzanus, catering, but I had the sermons to write -- nothing else mattered. With all due respect to my colleagues who I know have worked hard on their sermons, after this Rosh HaShanah I think that the sermons were among the easiest of all my tasks, from hotelier to baal tokeah (shofar blower).

We had about 100 military personnel and 10 civilians at our Rosh HaShanah services in Baghdad, and that of course didn't include the 35-40 who made reservations to come and didn't show and the individuals, including members of the local Iraqi Jewish community, who couldn't get through the new security measures on our base. Considering the current military situation in our area, and the distances some had to travel, it was an excellent turn out.

As befits soldiers, they came on time and stayed until the end and were very helpful. We had a retreat of sorts, with about 60 of the participants sleeping in the palace with me for three nights and everyone eating all of their meals together.

It is hard to explain in writing the experience. It was not my usual Rosh HaShanah davening but it was very special none the less.

The demographics were stark, mostly young men under 25, and except for one Civil Affairs officer and myself, no officers above captain, though there are plenty here.

I challenged my soldiers in my two "sermons" to think about how the experiences of war and its aftermath would affect them. Would it make them cynical and bitter, or would they open new vistas and make them better people in the years to come? The second sermon was on sacrifice. We all know, I told them, what length each was willing to go to sacrifice for the values of America, but I asked them what sacrifices would they give for their faith, people and G-d.

I thought about those same challenges as well. This is my second time in a combat zone. I could get very bitter, but there is a good that comes out of all of this, the learning and growing, and there is the question of sacrifice.

I, like all these soldiers, have sacrificed to be here.

We are away from our families, friends and loved ones, it wasn't my normal type of davening, and the menu, well, corned beef and pastrami aren't my usual Yom Tov fare. And we are being shot at regularly. Yet my rewards are far greater than my sacrifices for being here.

What do you say when a soldier tells you that this is the most meaningful Rosh HaShanah he has had in 20 years, or to the soldier born of two Jewish parents but raised in Catholic schools and as a Catholic who comes to services on a push by a non-Jewish sergeant to check Judaism out and over the three days reads books, participates in discussions and davening and tells you that "this Judaism stuff is not bad, I think I'll be back for Yom Kippur."

The reward is watching 100 young Jews sitting and talking about Jewish topics and trying to learn more till the early hours of the morning and still making it to services on time.

It is the awe in the faces of these soldiers to see the books and gifts, phone cards and letters sent by the American Jewish community for them, and it is the amazement of watching them see a real Torah scroll for the first time, to look at it and have me explain it and be so thankful and amazed that synagogues would allow them to be sent over and pay the insurance because they thought soldiers were that important and might even get their first aliyah.

It's the face of the 23-year-old young lady who I met a few months ago. She was so upset because she wanted to get married to someone Jewish and had not met a Jewish soldier in over two years of service. Now, surrounded by some 65-75 eligible bachelors who share her love of country as well as Judaism, I had never seen her smile so.

Perhaps it is the observation from one of my CPTs who told me that it seemed like I had 100 new children in my family as I pinch a cheek, give and receive a hug and have them come to confide in me their worries and dreams for the future.

And there was the soldier who asked me to e-mail his mom that he came to services, how proud she was and is.

Yes, I've sacrificed, but I have gained much more than I have lost. I think I am better for having been here. The appreciation expressed by my soldiers touches me to the heart and affirms that despite it all I am glad I am here to share the burden and joys with them, and to make their time here one of positive growth Jewishly.

I feel I have been blessed by this opportunity and by the responses of my family and friends.

So, friends, a little prayer for this coming year.

My prayer for this coming year is that each and everyone of us should only have to give small sacrifices and in return receive great rewards in service to our nation, our people and to our G-d.. Shabbat Shalom and an easy fast to you all.

Rabbi Ackerson is a member of the United Jewish Communities Rabbinic Cabinet.