Elul 28, 5774

It is Never Too Late, Rabbi Harold M. Schulweis  The last word has not been spoken, the last sentence has not been written, the final verdict is not in. It is never too late to change my mind, my direction, to say no to the past and yes to the future, To offer remorse, to ask and give forgiveness. It is never too late to start over again, to feel again to love again to hope again....

Elul 27, 5774

Growing up, video game play was taboo, and my parents drilled into my head that they were a complete waste of time. Of course, that didn't stop me, because I knew I was the Mario who could save the Princess. As it turns out, businesses that are hiring young employees like to see some time in front of the screen with thumbs twitching. They consider it an asset when as applicant spends about 30 minutes a day playing video games, because video game players are used to failing. It is not that businesses want their employees to fail; it is that they know they will. Everyone does, from time to time. The question is not whether they will fail, but how they will react when they do. More often than not, a person who plays video games is used to seeing the big, red GAME OVER sign on the screen. When they do, they simply start over and try a different tactic. There is no crying, no complaining that it isn't fair, just reset and try again. While we don't often get Nintendo-charged chances to immediately reboot and start again, we always have a choice about how we react to failure. We can get upset and kick and scream at our misfortune, or we can dust off, get up, and try a new tactic, hopefully having learned from our failure.

Elul 26, 5774

David Foster Wallace wrote this story: There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the heck is

water?"

We are like those fish, going through life without understanding, without gratitude, without introspection. Our High Holidays help us to better understand our world, our religion, and most importantly, ourselves.

Elul 24 and 25, 5774

Tomorrow night is S'lichot, the holiday when we "officially" begin the High Holy Days. If you are lucky enough to receive these Elul Reflections, you have been preparing since late August. Nevertheless, tomorrow night is the kickoff. It is a long, slow trek from S'lichot to Yom Kippur and on through Simchat Torah. It all starts tomorrow.

Meanwhile, enjoy the double portion of Elul Reflections:

Elul 24

At the start of moments that are incredible, weddings and baby namings and bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies, we turn to words of liturgy: May God bless you and keep you; May you always draw comfort from a close relationship with God; May a loving God guide your steps and inspire your decisions and may our lives be filled with peace.

 

Now we gather at the twilight of this year, and I can borrow language from Jewish liturgy to capture this moment: "I confess that I have left much undone, yet I know also the good that I did and the good that I tried to do. May my acts of goodness give meaning to my life, and may my errors be forgiven." How have your acts of goodness, as opposed to errors, given meaning to your life in 5774?

 

Elul 25

Three Questions

I once heard a story about a rabbi who was stopped by a Russian soldier while he walking in his shtetl. The soldier aims his rifle at the rabbi and demands, "Who are you? Where are you going? Why are you going there?"

Completely calm and unfazed, the rabbi asks, "How much do they pay you?" A bit surprised, the soldier responds, "Twenty­-five kopecks a month." The rabbi pauses, and in a deeply thoughtful manner says, "I have a proposal for you. I'll pay you fifty kopecks each month if you stop me here every day and challenge me to respond to those same
three questions."

Elul 24, 5774

At the start of moments that are incredible, weddings and baby namings and bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies, we turn to words of liturgy: May God bless you and keep you; May you always draw comfort from a close relationship with God; May a loving God guide your steps and inspire your 

decisions and may our lives be filled with peace.

Now we gather at the twilight of this year, and I can borrow language from Jewish liturgy to capture this moment: “I confess that I have left much undone, yet I know also the good that I did and the good that I tried to do. May my acts of goodness give meaning to my life, and may my errors be
forgiven.” How have your acts of goodness, as opposed to errors, given meaning to your life in 5774?

Elul 23, 5774

In the 1998 movie The Prince of Egypt, one of my favorite scenes is where Moses (voiced by Val Kilmer) approaches the burning bush. A voice comes out of the bush voiced by...Val Kilmer. The same casting decision was made in 1956 for The Ten Commandments, in which both roles are played/voiced by Charleton Heston. This casting choice is also a theological choice. It says, in essence, that when Moses hears God's voice, he hears his own voice. In other words, God's voice is not the cinematic presentation of a booming, masculine voice from the clouds. It is the still, small voice within us. This is why the Hebrew word l'hitpalel, "to pray," is a reflexive verb. We do not direct our prayers outward; we direct them inward, to the Divine Spark nestled deep in our soul.

 

When I am reading or thinking and I "hear" words in my head, the voice of those thoughts is my voice. I assume it is the same with all of us. Who knows? Maybe we all hear God's voice, disguised as our own. Perhaps what we call the voice of conscience is that same voice that Moses heard at the burning bush, that all the Israelites heard at Mt. Sinai, and anyone can hear if we are able to recognize our own connection with God.

Elul 22, 5774

The Sling by Rabbi Hirshy Minkowitz

Question: Imagine you are right handed and you suffer a bad fall on your right side. You end up with torn ligaments in your shoulder and the doctor says you need to wear a sling and cannot use the arm for a week. You are right handed so now it becomes difficult to write, drive, text, email, etc.

How are you supposed to go on with your regular day to day functioning with your primary arm immobilized?

I thought about this all week since a fall last Wednesday put me in this exact predicament. And of course the allegory and metaphor associated with this was swimming in my mind all week. What does one do when their figurative right arm is unavailable? When the thing they rely on most for so many of their basic functions and survivals is simply not there? How is it even possible to continue?

My life the last four months was relived in a metaphoric microcosm the last eight days.

And then I discovered the answer, it was a very simple and short one, and it applied to the last four months as it did to the last week.

Answer: You learn to use your left arm.

As you consider the year that is almost passed, how have you “learned to use your left arm?”