Elul 17 - Recognition - by Rabbi Andrea Goldstein

"Recognition" by Daron Larson

It is so difficult to see this flower *

because the countless others
we’ve seen before
cloud the view,
along with how we expect it to look
and how it might be improved.

Even the faces of the ones we love deeply
hide like buried treasure
behind histories of expression.

In order to see
what is right in front of our eyes,
we first have to recognize
we have gradually
become blind,
and then begin
the slow work of forgetting.

*Substitute with any noun: beach, stone, bird, soap bubble, house, grandmother, beef stew, homeless person, celebrity, potato, dollar bill, construction worker, politician, drug addict, child, teacher, report card, mail order catalogue, boss, swimming pool, dog, towel, onion, computer, neighbor, planet, pine cone, cigarette, airplane, spam subject, fork, mountain, etc.

I have always loved this poem by Daron Larson. 

To me, it represents the essence of the work of Elul, because during these days of Return we struggle to see ourselves as we are. 

We struggle to see all the incredible beauty, as well as honest flaws. 

It is easy to lean too far in one direction and look through the lens of incessant critiques that tell us we will never be good enough, smart enough, talented enough, just enough.  It is also easy to overlook the times we have gone astray or laid too low in our apathy. 

To see ourselves (and others) as we really are, in this moment, is difficult and precious and rare. 

To meet ourselves (and others) as we really are, with compassion, is a blessing. 

To forgive ourselves (and others) is brave.

To see ourselves (and others) as we really are, is holy.

Seeing is the beginning of the holy work of Elul.

Rabbi Andrea Goldstein

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Elul 16 - When “Good Enough” Really is Good Enough - by Emily Cohen

When “Good Enough” really is Good Enough. I find myself falling into this trap often. Far more often than I’d like to admit. Booking a vacation, buying a car, even at the grocery store yesterday when deciding which canister of cinnamon roll dough to buy. In an article in The Atlantic titled “The Power of ‘Good Enough,’” Swarthmore University Psychologist Barry Schwartz describes this as “choice overload.” This phenomenon means that when we are presented many options (and have easy access to information, i.e.: we can research and compare on the internet), we are actually less happy. Schwartz says choice overload makes us question our decisions, set our expectations too high, and blame ourselves for our mistakes.

I can certainly testify to this! If I’m not mindful, I can get sucked in. For example, instead of just accepting a nice hotel that’s close to the restaurants and sites we want to visit, I can spend hours researching to make sure there’s not a hotel that’s nicER or closER. Typically, I genuinely enjoy this process and learning new things through my research. But sometimes I have to remind myself that I have an option that is “good enough,” and that is good enough.

During this reflective month of Elul, I wonder if this applies to the more important parts of life, well beyond just products and purchases. Do I allow myself to be happy when I myself am “good enough”? Of course, I aspire to be the perfect wife, perfect sister, daughter, friend, colleague, student, etc. I genuinely try my best to keep each of those relationships strong and connected. I tend to be extra hard on myself when I am not the perfect wife, sister, etc. What if I gave myself permission to be imperfect? To forgive myself in those situations where I am “good enough” at something, but not perfect? Reframing my decisions this way has been really illuminating and helpful so far during Elul and I look forward to further growth in the New Year.






Emily Cohen, Shaare Emeth Programming Specialist

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Elul 15 - by Shayna Warner

It was a relaxing late Sunday morning at home.  One of those rare mornings when the only thing on the schedule for a few hours was to hang out.  A Cardinals game was about to start and the younger one (age 7) was eagerly anticipating the game.  The older one (age 10) wanted to watch a new episode of his favorite show that just happened to be starting at the same time.   The bickering and the nit-picking began, then led into tattling and whining (and, I think, a remote control whizzing past my head).  It wasn’t long before the shrieks began.  Naturally, the calm-natured mother that I am, I demanded they stop-that-crazy-behavior-and-say-you’re-sorry!

That’s sorta how it happened. For the sake of Shalom Bayit (peace in our home), the moment of conflict ended and was quickly resolved, with little time to process and steam coming out of my ears.

I don’t think I’m the only parent out there that just wants my kids to end negative behaviors, admit they are sorry, and immediately do better next time. It takes incredible energy to stop and process every single disagreement and mistake properly.  We all cut the corners every now and again, and hope that the words alone will imbue a sense of forgiveness and remorse.

But I also need to remember that the act of apologizing and teaching repentance is one that is much more than simply the words, “I’m sorry.”  These lessons are laden with so much of the junk that is the most uncomfortable for us to face.  Truly being sorry, and admitting the how-what-and-why of the apology, are totally different things.  An honest apology opens doors to our own vulnerabilities.  And let’s all be honest, that is not always very fun.

This season of Elul, and the subsequent holidays, are deliberately intended to be a time when we come face-to-face with exactly that which makes us uncomfortable.  The notion of Teshuvah is to return and reflect on our actions and own up to that which is the hardest.  It will sometimes be ugly and awkward, making it (logically) something we also want to avoid.

When I do my work with infants and toddlers through the J-Pat (Jewish Parents as Teachers) program, I encourage the parent and child to spend time together during this season of year simply holding a mirror up to their child’s face; the literal act of reflecting provides an opportunity for a parent to take pause of the wonder and purity of this new, young potential in their child.  Hopefully, that pause is also a chance to stop and think about the opportunity of our own, adult reflection.  When we honestly and openly reflect on ourselves, we truly can begin a process of teshuvah. 

I like to remember that sense of purity and innocence of my own children when they were babies.  Reflecting and remembering the images of those sweet faces helps me return to a hopeful and pure time as a parent, a time when I had full intentions of teaching the values of forgiveness and integrity.  It reminds me, personally, to take stock in how I have been doing.  I remember the promises I made to myself and to them, before we started the power struggles and button-pushing.  My own teshuvah  becomes something I can manage.  The tasks are again tangible and doable.  Does this mean I won’t make mistakes or continue to scream (sometimes) at my kids?  Of course not.  But the memory of my promises helps me keep myself in line and at least make an effort to try.

The holidays give us the opportunity to be mindful of our intentions, in every relationship we have in our life.  We are so fortunate to have a tradition that asks us to be honest and fallible, to acknowledge that we are humans filled with complex emotions, and to learn to live with each other despite the challenges.  Embracing this time, sincerely, gives us the chance to be the best we can be.

I feel confident that it won’t take long for me to lose my cool with my kids again soon.  But maybe the next time a remote control is hurled across the room I will try harder and do better.

Shayna Warner

Shayna Warner has a Bachelor's Degree in Early Childhood Education from Bradley University and a Master's Degree in Social Work from Tulane University.  She has been a Parent Educator for the Jewish Parents as Teachers (JPat) since the program began in 2011. She also has served as the Camp Social Worker at Goldman Union Camp Institute (GUCI) for the past two summers.  She is married to Cantor Seth Warner and has two sons, Simon and Isaac.

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Elul 14 - Take the Greyhound - by Rabbi Jim Bennett

In the 1970s, Harry Chapin, one of my musical and storytelling heroes, wrote and performed a mostly forgettable song “Take the Greyhound.” In a forlorn voice Chapin tells of a journey across country on a Greyhound bus.  He intones:

     “Take the Greyhound     It’s a dog of a way to get around     Take the Greyhound     It's a dog gone easy way to get you down.”

As we listen to the song, we can sense the melancholy of the rider, who comes to realize that 

     “Looking to tomorrow is the way the loser hides     I should have realized by now that all my life’s a ride     It’s time to find some happy times and make myself some friends     I know there ain’t no rainbows waiting when this journey ends.”

Always philosophical, Chapin carries us with him on this journey, and calls us to see all of our lives through the lens of the bus trip he imagines.  Our lives are rides through the countryside of the years, and it is our task to make the most of it.  

I think of this song during these dog days of summer, as we approach the High Holidays.  Elul is a journey of this sort, and we, too, must realize that it is time to find some happy times, make some friends, and make the most of our journey.

The song ends with perhaps the most philosophical message of all:

     “Stepping off this dirty bus first time I understood
     It's got to be the going not the getting there that's good
     That's a thought for keeping if I could
     It's got to be the going not the getting there that's good.”

Indeed. It’s got to be the going not the getting there that’s good.  It is Elul.  No time like the present.

Rabbi Jim Bennett

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