We’re back! The little ones are filling up our Early Learning Center classrooms. In the air I hear the sounds of kids laughing and playing, and, yes – crying. Lots of crying. So many pre-schoolers wailing, “I want my mommy!” It’s so poignant, that weepy need to find solace in the arms of a mom.
My mom died 15 years ago. And as time has gone on, I’ve managed to do fine. My family has grown and flourished. I have a couple grandkids, a great wife, a terrific temple, some amazing friends. But every once in a while, I see something or I hear a tune and, well, I want my mommy. The new year’s imminent arrival stokes loving memories.
The last month on the Hebrew calendar, Elul, has just begun. For most of us, this fact barely registers. Our lives are primarily governed by the Gregorian calendar, introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582 as a reform of the Julian calendar. The Hebrew calendar exists as a faint whisper in the background of our Jewish lives.
This shift means we often miss the nuances of time and meaning that our ancestors attached to the passage of Jewish time. While we might associate certain holidays with seasons – Sukkot in Fall, Hanukkah in Winter – for our ancestors, the daily passage of time connected to Jewish days and months gave their lives and rituals a more organic feel. And for them, Elul was significant – it was, and still is, the run-up to a new year.
Historically, Elul has been the long runway into the new year. Traditions like sounding the shofar after daily minyanim and adding special prayers urge us to contemplate fundamental life issues. Elul invites us to embrace our contradictions, holding space for both achievements and failures, certainties and doubts. It compels us to search for unity in our fragmented lives and craft a coherent narrative from our scattered experiences.
We’re confronted with questions to ask ourselves, but no one hands these out or checks if we’re answering them honestly. No one demands we be held accountable for our behavior, our successes, or our failures. The challenge is self-imposed; we must choose this path of introspection.
What if we heeded Elul’s call and embraced the meaning of teshuvah (repentance) and selicha (forgiveness)? It would require admitting fault and opening our hearts to pardon others – undoubtedly challenging work.
Our ancestors have used this month to consider the past and future. What makes you proud or ashamed? How have you affected others’ happiness or caused pain? Who deserves your attention, and why have you avoided them? How do you want to proceed? This process, called Heshbon Hanefesh (accounting of the soul), involves introspection and self-evaluation – a spiritual audit of one’s thoughts, actions, and behavior over the past year.
I know you’re busy—juggling flaming torches and chain saws—I get it. But if you take even 25 minutes of a day, you can alter your life trajectory. Just stop. Breathe. Consider. And then do the work. Focus on one person you’d like to bless with your honest request for forgiveness.
This Rosh Hashanah, we are riding the rapids of a world filled with divisiveness and strife. We are surrounded by events that overwhelm us and challenge our steadfastness and commitment to justice. We are struggling to express hope. Elul is the time to think about what matters: the people in our lives. Reach out to them. Reach into your own heart. Elul is the prep time before the High Holy Days that can help us individually and collectively as a community to reach for joy.
Before Shabbat 