Elul 21 5781

 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 19-20 5781

 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

I had never seen my son as happy or proud as the moment he completed the Harry Potter series. For six months, he 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.  He could scarcely get out the words. “I finished the books.” he whimpered. “I am done. “What do I read now?”

For half of a year, he spent every spare moment reading.  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.”

“What now?” expressed my son’s disbelief that he would enjoy anything as much as Harry Potter. When he took time to see the moment as an opportunity to explore and consider what he loved, he found new passions and opportunities to grow. So, I pray will we, as we prepare to enter a new year.

Elul 18 5781

 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 17 5781

 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 16 5781

 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 15 5781

 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 14 5781

 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.