Elul Thoughts

 Elul 1, 5781/August 9, 2021

Rabbi David N. Young

Welcome to Elul Thoughts 5781!

This year our High Holy Day celebrations will look different from any other. Last year we were all watching and leading from our own homes or from empty synagogues. This year some of us will be home, some of us will be in our sanctuaries. Perhaps it could be phrased, “Who by live shul and who by Zoom?”

Wherever we will be, we can be sure that it will not be the same as it was in 2019, and not quite as isolated as it was in 2020. 2021 will be something different, something perhaps temporary, something that might inspire new practices or may even teach us what we hope to never do again. No matter what our services look like, we acknowledge that we are in transition this year. As such, this Elul (which is often a time of spiritual transition) we have gathered 18 rabbis to offer our thoughts on transitions: an auspicious number that will hopefully imbue our year with life! We hope that you find meaning, comfort, and inspiration from our teachings, and we all wish you a very safe, happy, and healthy last month of 5781.

Elul 2, 5781/August 10, 2021

Rabbi Brad Levenberg 

Our most impactful Jewish moments occur during the period known as bein hashmashot, or twilight. It is twilight when we kindle our Shabbat candles, indicating that the Sabbath is about to begin, and it is at twilight that we prepare for our Havdalah ritual where we prepare to sunset the sacredness of Shabbat and embrace the sacredness of the week to come. Twilight brings about our most celebrated Jewish holidays and prepares us for our days of holy days devoted to mourning. Neither day nor night, twilight, that in-between time, that time of transition, delights our souls with anticipation.

 

These days of Elul are also days of twilight. Preparing as we are for the close of one year and the start of the next, we transition from yesterday to tomorrow, from memory to hope. May these days of transition, informed by our experiences of the past, make our hearts flutter at the possibilities of unwritten tomorrows.

Elul 3, 5781/August 11, 2021

Rabbi Harry Rosenfeld

In Hebrew, the Book of Numbers is called Bemidbar. Midbar means wilderness. The Plaut Torah commentary, like most English versions of Torah, translates Bemidbar as: “The wilderness of Sinai” (The Torah: A Modern Commentary: Revised Edition (p. 899). CCAR Press. Kindle Edition.)

But, “in the wilderness of Sinai” is an incorrect translation. A literal translation would be: “in a wilderness of Sinai.” Together, the Israelites wandered through Sinai. More importantly, each individual was in his/her/their own personal wilderness as they transitioned from being slaves to being free.

With each transition in our lives, we each find ourselves in a wilderness that changes as we, and our circumstances change. In the past 18+ months, we have gone into, and are almost out of (we hope) the COVID-19 pandemic. We wandered through the wilderness of quarantine and isolation. As the pandemic waned and waxed and waned, our wilderness seemed endless and then suddenly almost over. Now, with the waning of the pandemic, we think we are transitioning back to life before COVID. But, we know that with transition we cannot go back to what was. We are transitioning into a changed, new world with its own challenges. A new wilderness for us to traverse.

We are blessed with these Days of Awe, a time of transition. May these 40 days from 1 Elul through Yom Kippur enable us to transition, once again, from one wilderness to the next.

Elul 4, 5781/August 12, 2021

Rabbi Alan Cook 

In 1979, singer Harry Belafonte appeared on season three of The Muppet Show. Though I didn’t know of Mr. Belafonte at the time, I did watch the show regularly. Thus I was introduced to a song by Mr. Belafonte, reportedly based on an African melody he had learned during his

travels. The song “Turn the World Around” was widely acclaimed; Jim Henson considered that

Muppet Show segment to be some of his best work. Jewish musician Dan Nichols has adapted the song, updating the lyrics with a verse about Torah.

The refrain “Turn the World Around'' reflects many possible meanings. It could suggest that it is our responsibility to consider the world from a variety of perspectives—that we must be mindful of the fact that others may experience a particular situation differently. This echoes the teaching of the sage Rabbi Ben Bag-Bag in Pirkei Avot: “Turn it [the Torah] and turn it, for everything is in it.” The more we return to Torah, and consider the world in which we live, the more we learn new things.

The lyrics might also mean that each of us has the power to Turn the World Around, finding strength from the world’s resources to create powerful transitions that will serve l’taken olam b’malchut Shaddai, “to transform the world under the Sovereignty of God.” Fire, water, mountain, Torah all give us the tools we need to make a difference. As we work to do good in the world, as we “see one another clearly,” may 5782 be the year in which we Turn the World Around.

Elul 5-6, 5781/August 13-14, 2021

Every Friday we send a double portion of Elul Thoughts so that those who choose not to be on the internet over Shabbat can read Saturday’s offering in advance. Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Laurence Malinger

A Time to Heal

If this season is going to bring healing, we have to open up our hearts and share our pain with God and with others. The opposite course of action, denying our pain and keeping it to ourselves, only creates distance between us. We all carry pain through the course of our lives – the kind of pain that we keep well hidden, sometimes too well. If we yearn for the closeness of God, we have to acknowledge our pain and allow ourselves the opportunity to heal.

Life is unfair. Sometimes it hurts, really hurts, but it often is in the depth and the agony of the hurt that we find our way. This enables us to have the power to heal – to heal ourselves and to help others heal. 

This season encourages us to feel our hearts, as we hear the haunting words and melodies of the liturgy as they penetrate our souls.  We begin the process of healing when we allow ourselves to feel the warmth of our being, for the heart and soul of every Jew is warm with life. 

Thus, every Jew, no matter how despondent or removed he or she may be, can be healed with strength of hope. Let’s allow the healing hand of this season to feel our hearts and touch our souls, so that our spirits, our bodies and our minds may be revived and refreshed — ready to take on the challenges of a new year with energy, compassion and love.

Rabbi Benjamin Sharff

This summer I took the opportunity to watch ESPN and Netflix’s documentary, The Last Dance, about the Bulls final championship run in 1998. As a big NBA fan in the 80s and 90s, I can remember so many of the incredible moments depicted in the docuseries. However, it was the end of 10 episodes that really struck me as it focused on the last time players like Jordan, Pippen, Kerr, Rodman, and the others would ever play together.

At the end of the series (spoiler alert), when the Bulls had defeated the Utah Jazz for the second consecutive NBA finals, the Bulls’ coach, Phil Jackson gathered all the players together to say farewell. Each of the players wrote something meaningful about the run to them and then placed it in a can that was then lit on fire.

I’ve been thinking about that moment in reflecting upon the theme of transition. As we are transitioning to a new world, a new life, a “new normal,” it is incumbent upon us to create rituals for this transition. What has this past year and a half meant? How did it hurt? Who did we lose? What did we gain? What did we learn? What do we hope to take with us? What do we hope to leave behind?

So many of our hopes and dreams have been challenged and changed, some for the worse and some for the better. In this time of Elul, we ask ourselves, what can we do to get ready? And what can we light on fire to let go, so we can transition into a better tomorrow?

Elul 7, 5781/August 15, 2021

Rabbi Stephen Wise

We have heard the word resiliency used a lot this past year, the ability to adapt to new circumstances and then go back to where we were, like a giant elastic band.  This might have been more helpful had the pandemic lasted a few weeks or months.  But a year and a half later, we are not likely to go back to March 2020.  We are in a new world, and it is time to examine how we have adapted to the new reality and that this is the new normal.  We might always be more aware of our health and how it affects others and actually stay home when sick.  We might always mask in public places and keep more physical distance.  But what about our new Jewish reality? We found new ways to pray and learn with community online, zooming to Jewish places we never thought we could see, studying with incredible teachers all over the world, and praying among rows of digital faces. But nothing replicates being together with people for the spiritual highs of our life.  Moses had incredibly powerful moments alone – think about him floating down the river as a baby alone, facing the Egyptian taskmaster alone, standing before the burning bush alone and encountering the divine.  But eventually he used all those experiences to build up towards the greatest communal moment in the history of the Jewish people – when we all stood together shoulder to shoulder to receive Torah at Mount Sinai.  I hope and pray we can find that balance in our new world, health and happiness, alone and together time, doing Jewish virtually and also praying, celebrating and living Judaism in the flesh, side by side, united as one community. 

Elul 8, 5781/August 16, 2021

Rabbi Neal Katz

In Numbers 24:5, we read: Ma Tovu Ohalecha Yaakov, Mishkenotecha Yisrael - “How lovely are your tents, Jacob - your dwelling places, Israel.”

The text is a curse-turned-blessing and Jews recite this blessing every day in the morning service. These six simple Hebrew words offer a powerful lesson during Elul.

We notice that the biblical patriarch Jacob is associated with “tents,” and his later identity, “Israel,” is associated with “dwelling places.” Follow the growth. 

Tents are flimsy, portable, open, and vulnerable to the weather.  We contrast this with the next stitch which says, “dwelling places.”  A dwelling place is a house, a home, permanent, built upon a strong foundation, and in our dwelling places, we are not vulnerable to the elements.  

Jacob is a character that is beset by many flaws and trickery during his life. Jacob is likened to these “tents,” - weak, flimsy, deceitful, portable, and vulnerable to retribution from those he deceived.

 

But he becomes Israel - a stronger, more resolute character – making peace with his family, buying land, and renewing the covenant. While not always perfect, Israel resembles a more stable, permanent, stronger person. Israel resembles a “dwelling place.”

 

We all move – from tents to dwelling places.  We start out as Jacob and strive to become Israel.  From youth to old age, from confusion to understanding, and from immaturity to maturity. In this season of Elul, let us hear the words of Mah Tovu as a call to become better versions of ourselves.

Elul 9, 5781/August 17, 2021

Rabbi Simone Schicker

“God called the light Day, and the darkness God called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, a first day.”

Our tradition chose to follow these words, and therefore each time the sun sets a new day is born.  It is one of the more confusing things for those who are not part of the Jewish community to understand, but I find it beautiful to trace the tradition of welcoming a new day from darkness to light to the very beginning.

Transitions, from day to day, month to month, year to year are all marked through our tradition. Every significant moment, from the birth of a baby, to Shabbat, Rosh Hodesh (New Moon) and Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), to a Yahrzeit is marked. Each one a transition of some kind – some personal, some communal.

Each transition comes with guidelines for how to mark it. And each one gives us the opportunity to change how we envision transition. How we take the rituals and guidelines given to us by our ancestors and make them new again for us and for those in our communities.

As our communities transition into a new reality, having experienced so many transitions over the past eighteen months, let us each take this opportunity to bring a little of what we have learned and loved into our new realities. Let each of us contemplate what we would like to bring with us into the New Year and what we would like to leave behind.

Elul 10, 5781/August 18, 2021

Rabbi Eric Linder

We are Never Closed

Here in Athens, our building was closed for a good portion of this last year. I imagine that many of you can relate, as services and life-cycle events have been (and perhaps still are) attended virtually. 

From the beginning of our closure, I was clear that although our building is closed, our community doors are wide open. The warmth and open-ness of a community does not depend on a physical structure. Our synagogues are not the highlights of our Jewish lives - our synagogue communities are. 

During this past year, we all found creative and meaningful ways to be in each others lives without the ability to be physically proximate. As Judaism teaches us that Kol Yisrael aravim zeh ba zeh, “Each Jew is responsible for   the other,” we know that caring does not depend on geographical nearness.

As this time of COVID hopefully continues to transition toward a time of herd immunity and health, I pray that we remember that our buildings and sanctuaries and offices are there to serve a higher purpose; namely, to support and care for one another, and to continue strengthening the bonds that enable our communities to remain being fully “open."

Elul 11, 5781/August 19, 2021

Rabbi Michael Birnholz

Sometimes it is worth taking Jewish wisdom literally. As we enter this month of Elul and are called to do Cheshbon Nefesh, we do acts of reflection as part of the accounting of our soul. I am challenging myself to, quite literally, take out a mirror.  This act of reflection will happen in two dimensions.  I will set aside the same time each day and then one day during the month where the reflection will happen at the top of each hour.  This act of physical self-reflection will be a challenge to look at myself and around myself.  What is the quality of light?  Where is the place that I am sitting? In this mirror I can identify things I don’t like or elements of my appearance that I am proud of. Something I can change? Something that is permanent? As I consider appearance, I will try holding the mirror at a different angle. Does that impact my perception?

Many of us journal or leave notes behind so we can see how we have changed in the past year.   I feel like it is easy to go to the extremes of dismissing one’s appearance or being too harsh.  In this month of Elul, I seek to make the image of my appearance into a path of soul reflection and transcendent connection.

Baruch atah Adonai, sheasani b'tzelem Elohim... Praised to You, Eternal One, as we seek You in our reflection….

Elul 12-13, 5781/August 20-21, 2021

Every Friday we send a double portion of Elul Thoughts so that those who choose not to be on the internet over Shabbat can read Saturday’s offering in advance. Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi David N. Young

Dr. Betsy Stone, retired psychologist and adjunct lecturer at Hebrew Union College, reminds us that dealing with the past year has had the same effect on our minds and bodies as any other trauma. According to Dr. Stone at a lecture I attended in June, adults have gained an average of 13 lbs in the past year; Americans have bought more junk food, alcohol, and firearms during the last year than any other prior year on record; addiction is on the rise--to alcohol, drugs, food, and technology.

Every year on the High Holy Days we have the opportunity to take stock and work on fixing our bad habits from the past. This year it seems very likely we have picked up some extra bad habits along the way. The process of Tshuvah is more difficult some years than others, and this year more difficult than most. So as we move from a traumatic year to a year that is still unknown, it is important to forgive the most important people we should have on our list--ourselves.

Try looking in the mirror, right into your own eyes, and say, “I forgive you.” Say it out loud or silently, but mean it. Once we forgive ourselves, transitioning to forgiving others can be much easier.

Rabbi Erin Boxt

Transitions, 5781

It may have seemed like we were traversing in the desert, or BaMidbar. As we have moved from one day to the next, from one month to the next, we have been faced with decisions regarding our health, our safety and what the new normal would look like or feel like.  As more and more people have become vaccinated, many of us have felt confused, unsure, or just terrified of what it would mean to gather again outside.  And, yet some are overjoyed to take their lives back into their own hands and move forward, never looking back.  As our ancestors traveled from Egypt to Eretz Yisrael, they had their own transitions to work through.  There were many decisions that had to be made to ensure the Children of Israel would have a future and that future generations would prosper.  Each and every day of Elul, the month leading up to our yearly Transition, the High Holy Days, we must look back upon the previous year, reflect on who we were and where we came from.  We move forward each day by learning from any mistakes we made along the way.  Each step takes us further into BaMidbar and also one step closer to Eretz Yisrael.  The changes we make today will lead us to a better and newer tomorrow; do not forget the past…live in the present and make room for the future.

Elul 14, 5781/August 22, 2021

Rabbi Ben David

Swimming is all about transitions. You transition from outside to inside the pool. You transition from the warmth of the air above to the coolness of the water. You transition, stroke by stroke, kick by kick, from one wall to the other.

I watched recently, on a Shabbat afternoon in Jerusalem, as a woman swam gradually to the waiting wall as she completed another length. Her movements were measured and careful. It was clear she had been swimming for years. As she approached the wall, though she couldn’t see them at first, there were a handful of teens blocking her way. Would they move? Would her momentum be interrupted? At the last possible second, they parted and created space for her. She touched the wall, turned around, and continued back down the pool.

These holy days are about making space. We make space for others. We make space for reflection, for atonement, for quiet. During this time of year, as we swim from one year into the next, we are called on to make space for a better self, more forgiving, more empathic, more patient. We make space for the various transitions happening around us, from weather to busier schedules, to a place of newfound hope.

I pray that this coming year, length by length, brings us all a greater sense of peace and faith. May we love and be loved and remember to keep swimming.

Elul 15, 5781/August 23, 2021

Rabbi Brad Levenberg 

In his first year at Jewish summer camp, my son went with eager anticipation to his first day with his cabin. No stranger to the camping culture, he looked forward to making friends, to “being brave,” and to smiling throughout his day.

Later I saw him crying.

 

I approached again. “Why are you crying?” I asked. “I need to go back with you for some down-time...I’m just not ready for this long of a day.”

 

Though he thought he was ready, it turns out that he was a bit more overwhelmed than he realized. He needed to take some time to prepare himself differently; the experience he had did not fully match the experience he had imagined.

 

And so it is with us. Our period of transition is often filled with expectation at what will come. At times, we can be so focused on the destination, that we neglect to realize that our plan is no longer on track. Transitions become the key that allows us to match our current situation with our dreams. They become the gift we give ourselves to make sure that we are still on the right path, that we are taking the time to appreciate the moment, that we are listening to our bodies, to our hearts, to our thoughts, to our souls.

 

May we appreciate – and embrace – the gift of a good transition in all that we do.

Elul 16, 5781/August 24, 2021

Rabbi Laurence Malinger

Reflection--A Time of Transition

Here's the thing about transitions: Most of the time you don't know you are about to go through it until it has already happened. Nobody ever knows the name of the period of time they are actually living through until someone decides that that period is over. The one thing they did not have in the biblical period was a Bible. Once they had a Bible, then the biblical period was over; it could have a name, and it was called the "Biblical Period.” Nobody woke up in the late Roman Empire and said to their beloved spouse, "Honey, you know, I was feeling Late Antique last night, but it is definitely Early Medieval this morning!" 

We typically mark transitions when it is too late to mark them, and then we can't do anything about them. With this period of reflection during Elul, we mark a transition while it is happening. The great gift that Judaism holds out to us it to be mindful of the phases of our lives, so that we don't rush through them thoughtlessly, so we take a moment to think about what it is we are going to need for the phase of life that is opening up before us, what is it we need to do to close the loose ends that are behind us. 

As we prepare to celebrate the new year, what are your dreams? What are your concerns? And how are you going to make the transition needed to address these and other issues?

Elul 17, 5781/August 25, 2021

Rabbi Daniel Fink

In the midst of challenging transitions, it is always tempting to turn back—even when that trodden path is, by most measures, completely untenable.  Almost immediately after their miraculous passage to freedom at the Red Sea, the Israelites bitterly long to return to Egypt.  Like Lot’s wife, we know we should keep moving forward, but can’t help looking back.

 

While this sacred season of Elul calls us to change course, most of us find that work difficult. The future is unpredictable; with the past we have the illusion of control.  This is the great power—and danger—of nostalgia.

 

One of the central prayers for the Days of Awe acknowledges that feeling’s potent pull: “Chadesh yameynu k’kedem—Renew our days, as of old.”  It’s easy to read this petition as a reactionary retreat from the future-facing path.  Yet the word k’kedem is closely related to kedimah, meaning “Onward!”  I like to think that when we offer this prayer, rather than just yearning for a bygone age that never was, we are first and foremost reminding ourselves of the possibility of renewal.  We look to the past for courage to embrace the future; just as the Holy One empowered our ancestors to press on into the unknown, despite their fears, so, we pray, may we find the strength and inspiration to stay the forward course.

 

Or as Carly Simon famously put it, “Stay right here, ‘cause these are the good old days.”

Elul 18, 5781/August 26, 2021

Rabbi Alan Litwak

"I," "We," and "You"

How do we transition our mindset?  We change our language.  When we speak differently, we have a greater chance of committing to act differently.  This works in our interactions with colleagues, friends, customers, and spouses.  

When the accolades are coming in, instead of saying "I,” try "we."

When the poop hits the fan, instead of saying "we," try "I."

And, when you are tempted to lessen the impact of your actions, try looking at the person and admitting it affects "you."

Elul 19-20, 5781/August 27-28, 2021

Every Friday we send a double portion of Elul Thoughts so that those who choose not to be on the internet over Shabbat can read Saturday’s offering in advance. Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Simone Schicker

In the first chapter of Joshua, God says to Joshua “I charge you: Be strong and resolute; do not be terrified or dismayed, for Adonai your God is with you wherever you go.”

This is the message we were given upon entering the Promised Land. That wherever we go God is with us. This is the message I fall back upon when struggling with transition. Transition is often hard, transition is often unwanted, even when needed, and transition too often leaves someone behind. If we take the charge God gives Joshua, we can learn that even when we have to transition, we can continue to hold onto those people and things in our lives that bring us comfort, support and hope.

We can hold onto the lessons of our ancestors, while transitioning to a more accepting and welcoming community. We can hold our deepest truths, and learn a new way of interpretation and understanding. Transitioning does not mean we leave behind the good but rather that we grow through our interactions and experiences for the betterment of ourselves, our families and our communities.

God is with us, in the good times and the bad. As we work through this moment of transition, as we move from summer to fall, from one year to another, may we continue to hold tight to the aspects of ourselves that make us who we are. May we continue to transition throughout our lives with the guidance and support of our tradition.

Rabbi Cassi Kail

For six months, my son had devoted time every day to the story of a young wizard coming into his own. He had grown as a reader and learned just how capable he was of reaching his goals.

His delight was palpable as I tucked him in that night; it lasted just fifteen minutes.  Suddenly I heard crying coming from his room. They were not soft sobs but loud expressions of pain and distress. “What’s going on, buddy?” I asked him. “I finished the books,” he whimpered, “I am done. What do I read now?”

He was not ready for the experience to be over or for a new one to begin. He was in the in-between, and he found it rather unsettling.

Consistent routines are comfortable, but transitional moments define us. Rabbis teach that prayers are more likely to be heard at twilight and sunset, the in-between moments of our days. These moments of pause give us room to reflect on our past while envisioning our futures. They implore us to embrace the endless possibilities and take responsibility for the next step in our journey.

The rabbis were wise to expand upon and bring holiness into two small moments of transition. Like pianist Arthur Schnabel, they recognized that “the pauses between the notes…is where the art resides.”

I pray we will find new passions and opportunities to grow in the in-betweens as we prepare to enter a new year.

Elul 21, 5781/August 29, 2021

Rabbi Benjamin Sharff

One of the hardest transitions in our tradition took place when Moses had to hand over the mantle of leadership to Joshua. It was hard not only because Moses had been the steady guide of the Israelites for the past forty years, but also because Moses was not allowed the reward of entering the Promised Land. Though in retrospect we understand it. For Moses, it was an unexpected transition.

Transitions sometimes occur as a natural process of growing, or age, or circumstance. Other times transitions are thrust upon us in ways that may appear arbitrary and capricious. The question is not so much about why transitions happen, but instead, how we handle, or cope with, or manage, or move on from these transitions.

Moses, seeing his stage of his work completed, was then buried, knowing that his people’s journey would continue on without him. Though we mostly remember Moses for his leadership and his guidance, perhaps we too can learn from the graciousness for which he accepted the transitions in his life.

Change happens. The question is: how do we embrace it, and how do we prepare for the next

step in our journeys especially during these uncertain times of transition?

Elul 22, 5781/August 30, 2021

Rabbi Harry Rosenfeld

The Talmud teaches in Tractate Rosh Hashanah 16b and Bava Metziah 75b: Mishaneh Makom, Mishaneh Mazal - Changing where you are changes your luck.

Moving to a new place is ubiquitous in our society. We or our ancestors, and people today, moved to these shores looking to change their luck for the better, hoping to find “streets paved with gold.” We continue to move to new locations toward new opportunities, or fleeing a place that was less than welcoming.

But, changing where we are, does not guarantee that the change in our luck will be for the better. There are no guarantees and the luck we find may be bad luck.

More importantly, “Changing where we are” is not just about physical location. We continually change and grow hopefully for the better. Our Judaism gives us an opportunity every year during these 40 days, to change ourselves For the better.

Dr. Eugene Mihaly taught that Judaism survived because, everywhere Jews have left and arrived at, through the reforms that Judaism experienced, we remain moored to where we started. Being moored does not hamper change, rather it allows us the stability to grow and change our luck for the better.

Who moors you to the past so that you can move forward? Who can you call after many years and it is as if you were never apart? Who moors you to your past and at the same time propels you toward fulfilling who you can become?

Elul 23, 5781/August 31, 2021

Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker

There are times when it can seem hopeless. We go through this every year. Stop, reflect, repent, do better. To do better we have to change and people don’t like to change. We don’t like to change. It’s hard to change. 

Judaism asks us to do many hard things. It’s our sacred responsibility to offer hospitality, to be honest, to avoid gossip and evil speech (in person, on social media), to do acts of loving kindness, to comfort mourners, to allow people to think differently, to make peace between individuals, to judge others fairly, to feel and express gratitude, to pray and study regularly. This is just a small list of mitzvot – sacred obligations.

Judaism does not teach us to do these things because everyone else does them. We do them because even though they are hard, they are at the core of who we are as Jews. Out of our relationship with God, our relationship with our People, the wisdom of our tradition – in some way they address us and point us in the right direction. Such teachings point the way to become a mensch – a full human being.

It’s not hopeless to strive to do better. It’s not hopeless to stop doing what’s easy and instead make every effort to become the person we hope to be. It may not be easy, but it is among the most important things we can do.

Elul 24, 5781/September 1, 2021

Rabbi Stephen Wise

In September of 1996 I’m sitting in a classroom with 20 students all of whom are embarking on an MA in Jewish Studies. I had no idea what I was doing there. Everyone else seemed so confident about the next steps in their career and this degree would help them achieve their goals.

That first day we were asked to take a large piece of butcher paper and trace our body on it. We were told to make it like a road map with pictures and stops along the way, each one important steps. We didn’t have to write what happened, just list them as points.  After we finished the professor told us to leave space at the bottom and create a path into the future.  What I most remember about this exercise was the value of looking back and marking the important stops along the way in my life that led me to where I was.

In the book of Numbers, chapter 33, God does this same exercise with the Israelites, listing the 42 stops they made from Egypt to the promised land, forcing them to remember each step and what happened along the way. If you were to try this exercise today, what would the milestones be in your life journey? This is the season of taking stock of where our life has taken us and then where we hope to continue.  Let's use these days of Elul to sharpen our focus and find the signposts for the year ahead.

Elul 25, 5781/September 2, 2021

Rabbi Alan Cook

In 1991, Transitions brand adaptive eyeglasses were introduced to the market.  They were designed to make it more comfortable for glasses wearers to move from bright outdoor sunlight into gentler indoor lighting (and vice-versa) by quickly darkening or lightening as needed.

These lenses capitalize upon the physical properties of the plastic from which they are constructed in order to quickly change.  In our lives, we are not always so agile when it comes to adaptation.  A disruption in our routine, a change in expected norms, can be tremendously upsetting.  

Perhaps this is why the rabbis ordained that we spend the month of Elul in contemplation and preparation for the majesty and splendor of the High Holy Days: they understood that suddenly being summoned to stand before the Divine throne or being asked to enter into teshuvah without full contemplation of our past missteps might be too awe-full for us to bear.  Hearing the sound of the shofar, being attuned to changing melodies in our liturgy, seeing the Torah covers change to white, engaging in mindful contemplation all can help to smooth the transition into a new year so that the moment is not disjunctive from past experiences, but rather a meaningful continuation of this wonderful mystery we call life.

Elul 26-27, 5781/September 3-4, 2021

Every Friday we send a double portion of Elul Thoughts so that those who choose not to be on the internet over Shabbat can read Saturday’s offering in advance. Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Ben David 

I took up surfing last summer. It was a way to get away, commune a bit with nature, and reflect amid the summer months of the pandemic. I learned quickly that surfing is all about transitions: onto the board, onto your feet, riding a wave to the shore. It's about moving from one place to another. Resting to working. Prone to standing. Balance to imbalance. And then all over again. But it's also about moving to a place of humility and abounding patience. It’s a good metaphor for us, and a good metaphor during this holy day season, as we feel myriad transitions play out all around us. We enter a new year. We prepare for the start of school, the start of autumn, maybe a new chapter in life. Some of these transitions come easily, some less so. Especially this year, wearied by these past months of hardship and angst, our transitions are loaded. Are we ready to take off our mask? Is it safe to go out? Will praying in person feel scary or rejuvenating? Is it ok to be anxious, still? Like surfing, we must take our time with these transitions, be kind to ourselves, and exercise as much patience as possible.

Rabbi Andrew L. Rosenkranz

Isn’t it interesting that transitions almost inevitably cause anxiety and concern, while at the same time our Jewish tradition reminds us that transitions are almost always to be moments of joy and celebration?

 

The Hebrew calendar is marked with fixed times that commemorate changes that we are experiencing, whether it’s a change in the season or a change in our personal lives.  Rather than fear such transitions, our tradition teaches us to embrace such times and recognize the goodness that can come out of them.

 

Sukkot’s set time coincides with the annual agricultural harvest when we are commanded to rejoice before God.  The laws of mourning are suspended or cut short by certain holidays and festivals, because the mitzvah of rejoicing supersedes the change we are experiencing over the loss of a loved one.

 

The message is clear.  While something new may suddenly be introduced in our lives, God’s overall intent for humankind is to celebrate the gift of life.  Sometimes we know ahead of time that change is coming, while other times it hits us from out of nowhere.  

 

As we continue to experience the changes in our own lives, may we always be reminded that ultimately God wants us to celebrate with one another and exult in simply being alive in order to experience all that God has given us on this earth!

Elul 28, 5781/September 5, 2021

Rabbi Eric Linder

The Ever-Journeying People

The Jewish people are no strangers to transition. Abraham, left everything he knew to become the first Jew. We endured slavery for over 400 years before celebrating our freedom from Pharaoh. Then, we wandered in the desert for 40 years before entering the promised land. Jewish history is replete with transitions.

Every Rosh Hashanah marks a personal transition as well, as we move forward into the new year, and into a holier version of ourselves. 

This year, the transition is both communal and personal, as many of us are transitioning away from the past year that has had its fill of journeying, unease, and uncertainty.

As we hear the unifying shofar call of the tekiah g’dolah, I pray that all of us continue to transition toward communal responsibility, celebration, and shalom.

Elul 29, 5781/September 6, 2021

Rabbi Laurence Malinger

“Preparing for the Transition of a New Year”

What do we need as we stand on the precipice of a transition into the start of a New Year; a year that has never existed before following a year that was among the most difficult of years?

 

We need to share our principles and our standards so that all can understand them. We need to be educated, so that we know what it means to be a Jew, and so that we can remember to live and abide by those standards wherever this year takes us.