11 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Ben David

This summer I read Lost City of the Monkey God by Douglas Preston, which tells of a mission to uncover a previously unexplored section of the Honduran rainforest. It was long believed that there once existed a village deep in the jungle, occupied by a curious and cultic people, a robust infrastructure, and well-defined hierarchy. Preston, a writer for National Geographic, alongside a team of archeologists, historians, and photographers ultimately succeed in finding the mysterious place. They were bowled over by its grandeur and beauty.

Preston had me thinking about empty places. During COVID so many spaces remained uninhabited: schools, office buildings, and national parks. Nature started to overtake otherwise developed land. Wild animals wandered empty city streets in packs.

Among the places that remained empty throughout the quarantine were our synagogues. Classrooms sat quiet. Offices were silent. Sanctuaries were illuminated only by the glimmer of an Eternal Light.

We prayed from home. We saw our clergy virtually. In time we remembered that God can be found anywhere, even in the glow of Zoom, or a quiet walk with our kids. Like those early Israelites who, from distant shores, longed to return to their Homeland, we could only dream of our familiar and comforting sanctuaries. When we finally return to those beloved pews, we will do so with an even deeper appreciation for a benevolent God above and within, and greater love of those precious spaces that warm the heart.

10 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Bradley G. Levenberg

Thinking about the year coming to a close is an opportunity to consider the role that faith has played in our lives. Sure, we may have turned in to our faith…and we may have turned away. We may have witnessed scenes that challenge our belief in a good and caring God…and we may have witnessed acts that renew our understanding that we are indeed God’s instruments for good in this world.

 

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. As we feel our way along this unexpected journey, may we help one another hold onto our faith—our faith in God, in one another, in the world God created and called good. Abraham and Sarah stepped out into the invisible future, and so do we, every day. May the vision of a world we have heard in our sacred text, practiced in our rituals and shared with each other—a world in which everyone’s humanity is reverenced and cherished, in which we all take responsibility for the common good—be the contagion that spreads and keeps spreading.

8-9 Elul, 5780

 On Fridays, we give you a double portion of our Elul Thoughts so that we can all take a rest from our electronics on Shabbat. Enjoy!

Rabbi Heidi Cohen

Rabbi Richard Levy, of blessed memory, in his “Songs Ascending: The Book Of Psalms In A New Translation With Textual And Spiritual Commentary” published in 2017 was almost prophetic. Psalm 23, in Rabbi Levy’s translation says, “I shall abide in God's house for long days, long, long days.” What does that house look like today? It is not the Temple in Jerusalem and even now, it is not our sanctuaries. Rabbi Levy challenges us with, “How would we need to renovate our homes to turn them into God's house - a house where we would know always that we were in the presence of God?”

Whether Rabbi Levy knew that the day would come when we would not be able to be in common sanctuaries, he encouraged us to consider how it is that our homes can be and are God’s house. 

How will we prepare our space at home to be a sacred space so that we can engage with and in our High Holy Day liturgy and practice? This year is not going to be like any other year, and we know that while it has been months now, the future is going to look and be different. Different is not bad, it just requires us to recognize that it will take more work on all of our parts to ensure that the High Holy Days are just that, holy. We cannot just walk into a space, sit down and expect someone else to do it for us, we are in this together, and together, we are building God’s house wherever it is we are.

Rabbi Nancy Rita Myers

The blast of the ram’s horn: Sounds of sadness and hope

How do you feel when you hear the shofar sounded at Rosh Hashanah?  One one hand, it is joyously primal.  Seeing a man or woman standing in front of a crowded sanctuary, blowing the ram’s horn, feels exciting.  However, when its screech pierces the sanctuary, everyone falls silent.  

The New Year is a celebration of new beginnings, it is also very solemn.  The Talmud describes that the sounding of the shofar mimics the sounds of crying.  Debating whether the Teruah is a whimpering or Teruah is a moaning sound, our ancient text imbues a seriousness to these blasts.  We know that Rosh Hashanah is a time of judgement on the past year, and we are called to account for our acts, words, and the choices we have made.  Some of our decisions were good ones but others maybe not.  And even if we have done everything to the best of our ability, there can still be hardships, challenges, and sadness.  

Have you experienced loss this past year?  Did your bodies show signs of age or illness?  Did loved ones disappoint you?  Has someone you love fallen victim to COVID-19?  None of us gets to escape hard times and even as we hope that these are as fleeting as the sound of the shofar, we still feel the painful echo within us.  

The shofar is never blown in isolation but is meant to be heard.  As Jews, we are never alone.  We are part of a community.  We are part of history. Whether we hear the shofar in joy or in sadness, in our living rooms or elsewhere, may this year be a good one, a better one, and one filled with meaning.

7 Elul, 5780

Rabbi David N. Young

Doing the Easy Things and the Right Things

In this week’s Parashah, Ki Teitze, we read a variety of rules and laws. One that has always caught my attention is: “If, along the road, you chance upon a bird’s nest, in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with her young. Let the mother go, and take only the young, and the result will be that you will fare well and have a long life” (Deuteronomy 22:6-7).

Rashi points out that this is such an easy mitzvah to accomplish, and yet there is a stated reward “...you will fare well and have a long life.” If this easy mitzvah provides the reward of a good, long life, all the other, more difficult mitzvot should, too. He determines this must be the reward for doing any and all mitzvot--a good, long life.

Whenever we do good for another person, we are doing a mitzvah. Whenever we show others that we care, we are doing a mitzvah. When we make others feel good by doing good, we are living a good life. In turn, when we dedicate ourselves to a life of mitzvot, we will be remembered by all those whose lives we touched, and therefore our life will be long.

As we close out the first week of Elul 5780, may we rededicate ourselves to a life of doing good for others, dedicating ourselves to a life of mitzvot, and guaranteeing for ourselves good, long lives. 

6 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Alan Litwak

We Each Have The Potential to Change

“It is not the death of sinners that You seek, but that they should turn from their ways” - Unetaneh Tokef

God has given us a truly amazing gift.  Unlike the other members of the animal kingdom whose behavior is guided solely by instinct, humanity has the ability to change.  Our problem is that, so often, we place the onus of change on someone else - “It was his/her fault, so he/she needs to change” or “I need to make him/her see what she did.”  The Baal Shem Tov suggests that “sinners are mirrors.”  When we see faults in others, they are often reflections of our own faults or limitations.  Teshuvah is about changing ourselves; not others.  The month of Elul gives us the opportunity to look in the mirror and reflect on our own shortcomings. 

5 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Michael Weinstein

A Time For Atonement

It is written in the sacred Books:

“The 30 days before Rosh Hashanah, the great judgment day when man is permitted to turn in Teshuvah, repentance- to what are they comparable? To the 30 days of grace which a Court grants a debtor in which to pay his debts and be freed of his creditors.

But the man who is reverent of the word of God begins to turn in Teshuvah the day before the eve of Rosh Chodesh, the New Moon, which is the Yom Kippur Katan, the minor day of atonement. Even those who do not follow the practice of honoring Rosh Chodesh make a Yom Kippur Katan on the eve of Rosh Chodesh Elul, to prepare their hearts for repentance” (Adapted from Mateh Efrayim).

In our upside down world of COVID-19, when all things that were consistent and expected are no longer, may our hearts continue to turn to God, as they have for generations.  May our souls be reunited with God, just as Moses, in laying his hands upon Joshua.  May our minds be cognizant of God ‘as a symbol before your eyes.’

B’chol l’vavcha, uv’chol naf’sh’cha, uv’chol m’odecha…

4 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker

“Adonai will strike you with an unknown illness, fever, and inflammation…” (Deut 28:22). This is just one curse in a huge list that we find in this week’s parashah, Ki Tavo. Right now, it’s hard not to feel as if we’ve all been cursed a little, but I’ve never been a fan of taking these curses literally. 

If you do well – God will bless you. If you don’t – curses galore! For some reason that notion makes a lot of people uncomfortable. At the same time it points to an important truth about life. What is the Torah teaching us? There are consequences to our actions. 

This time that we’re living through has shattered our norms and reminded us that there is only so much in life that we can control. Even so, our actions have consequences, meaning we do have an impact. Our words have an impact, our actions have an impact. The actions we could have taken, but did not – have an impact, too. We strive to have a positive impact. We hope we did.

The month of Elul is not only a time for reflection; it’s a time to take responsibility. Only by taking responsibility, acknowledging our successes, our missteps, and our shortcomings – claiming them – can we begin the process of teshuva, repentance.