What does it mean to prepare?

What does it mean to prepare? 

When you make dinner, you need to have all the ingredients, the time, the pots and pans and the recipe.  When you go out for the evening, you might need a babysitter, a clean shirt and slacks and maybe a spouse or a date.  When you have an assignment due at work or school, you work toward it, doing research, writing, editing and proofreading.  

With the month of Elul, we are asked to prepare for the coming High Holy Days, or the Days of Awe.  What do we need to prepare for these?  What are we actually preparing for? We're not preparing for a meal or an event or even an assignment, instead, we're preparing for something of the heart and mind and even the soul.  That's a tall order to be sure.  It's utterly overwhelming.  So that I don't become overwhelmed, instead of thinking about the gestalt of the High Holy Days, I think about possibility.  

What can this new year bring?  What can this year offer me?  What can I do to make choices that are better?  Where can I find more inner peace in my increasingly busy demanding schedule? What more can I offer my wife, my kids and my friends?  How can I help myself be a better me? 

What's God Got To Do With It?

Elul 14

We are almost halfway through the month of Elul, and we have been thinking and speaking and reading a lot about teshuva.  Often we think of teshuva as a process we undertake to strengthen or repair relationships we have with others.  But the most profound form of teshuva can come when we seek to repair … or redefine … or rediscover the relationship we have with God. 

In his book, These Are the Words, Rabbi Art Green writes:

The first person to undertake teshuvah was the very first human.  Adam realized the magnitude of his sin in the Garden … and sought to be reconciled with God.  Teshuva in this case would mean re-establishing the intimacy and trust that existed between God and God’s beloved creatures before the expulsion from Eden.  Teshuva, in this key story, could not mean the re-creation of innocence.  That childlike aspect of Eden was gone forever.  But a new relationship, one more mature since it had faced and overcome the moment of doubt and betrayal, was Adam’s goal. It is this deeper faith, one that emerges from struggle with the self, that is the goal of teshuva.

God, for me, is neither judge nor King, but the force of goodness connecting all creatures and things to one another.  God is beyond me and within me.  God is my source of courage and strength, compassion and love.

For you, does God play a role in the work of teshuva?  

If you struggle with a belief in God, has the spiritual work of Elul helped at all in the struggle?

How might you use this time of Elul to nurture your understanding of or relationship to or belief in the Eternal?

Feathers in the wind

Elul 13

Remember when pillows were all made from goose or duck feathers? Back in the days before hypo-allergenic, synthetic, ergonomically-correct pillows were commonplace.  One of my favorite stories for these days before and during the High Holy Days relies on a feather pillow to teach us one of the simplest, yet most important lessons of teshuvah.

The story is told of a young child who was known for having an uncontrollable mouth!  In various versions of the story, the child is a gossip, or a slanderer, or a mean-spirited young person who regularly spouted off and used words to hurt others.  The other children, exasperated by this behavior, finally turned to their rabbi for assistance.  The rabbi calls the child in to the synagogue and begins a conversation.  "Do you see that pillow there on the sofa?" the rabbi asks.  "Yes, of course," replied the child.  "I want you to take it outside and tear it open and shake all the feathers out," instructed the rabbi.

Incredulously, the child did as the rabbi said, and returned to report in.  "Good," said the rabbi, "Now go and gather all the feathers and return them to the pillow," said the rabbi.  "Impossible!" replied the child. "The feathers have blown everywhere in the wind.  I can never get them all!"  "Exactly," taught the rabbi, "and so it is with your words.  Once you have spoken your words, they are in the wind, and you can never retrieve them.  So you must be careful to learn to think before you speak."

The simple story teaches important lessons.  Words have great power, and we can use them to help or to harm others.  Once spoken, our words, like the feathers, are "in the wind."  We can never take them back.

I must admit that I can use constant reminders of this truth.  I am often quick to speech, and know that choosing my words carefully, and listening as much as I speak, is one of my greatest challenges.  I would never deliberately hurt another with my words, yet I know that I sometimes do.  And I am well aware of how easy it is to justify simple gossip, conversations "between friends," and innocent idle chit chat, confusing it for meaningful discourse.

But the words we speak have great power, a power we must guard with great care.

This is true of speech and also of the written word.  In our age, this is particularly true of words written in email, text messages, and other social media.  It is so easy to use our words without thought, dashing off an email or other electronic message and hitting "SEND" without thought, and these words are difficult, if not impossible to retract once written or spoken.

Our Jewish tradition speaks of the power of speech.  God creates our world with words, but we can also use words to destroy.  The rabbis teach about Lashon Harah, "The Evil Tongue." When we gossip, even when we think we are just talking, when we speak ill of others, even if it is true, when we use words in an abusive or hurtful manner, when we lash out at others with our words, when we criticize incessantly, when we engage in idle talk about other people, we are sinning against God, against others, and against ourselves.

As Elul flows to the new year, we would do well to review our words, choosing them carefully, and make sure to speak gently, carefully and with wisdom. For once we release our words to the winds, they are impossible to gather again.

Rabbi Jim Bennett

Is Elul All About Me?

Elul 12

During this period of introspection, this month of preparation for the closing of one year and the opening of the next, this soul searching, this inward focus can stir up a lot of feelings. 

It sometimes makes me feel selfish, like instead of focusing so much on myself, I should turn my focus outward.  Now that this Elul is nearly half over, I realize that if my focus is only inward or only outward, then I have missed the point of the entire "Elul exercise."  Instead, the point is to be utterly aware of our own influence on our behavior and actions.  We are ultimately in control of ourselves, there is nothing narcissistic about that notion, in fact, when we are aware of how our actions can affect others, we embody the opposite of narcissism, we show humility that we are a part of a society and a community that we value.  

This inward focus business is daunting but it can be very freeing.  There is holiness in the work we're doing.  There is holiness in self-discovery.  There is holiness in every person who recognizes their life as worthwhile and worthy of improvement.  When we acknowledge that we strive to better - not perfect, but better - we acknowledge holiness as a part of who we are and as a part of our journey.  

I'm reminded of my grandmother's notion that what happens inside a person is magical.  Most of the time she was referring to the complexities of the human body and all of the mechanics that make us function.  Occasionally though, she would turn to me and say about a friend, "Now there is someone who knows who they are, isn't that something?"  What I think she meant was that people who are able to be in touch with their inner strength can harness its power and use it for good well beyond themselves.  

What is your inner strength?

What is holy within you? 

How well are you balancing the needs of self with the needs of others?

A Time to Reflect, A Time to Renew

Elul 11

Shabbat has begun, bringing with it time for rest and renewal.  Of course, we must choose to make some space for Shabbat in order to discover this kind of time:  time that moves at a slower pace, that is not hurried or rushed, that feels quiet and still, that allows us to reflect.  During Shabbat we might be able to allow the noise from a busy week to settle a bit, and in its place, if we are attentive, we might be able to hear the true yearnings of our hearts speaking to us about the kind of people we would like to become.  People, perhaps, who are less bitter and more grateful, or less judgmental and more compassionate.  

Our tradition teaches that each of us is capable of changing and growing.  Patterns can be broken, habits can evolve.  The "way things are" are not the way things have to be. If we desire change, we must begin with honest reflection - this process called cheshbon nefesh (taking account of one’s soul).  And this Shabbat might be just the right time to begin this process (if we have not done already) by asking ourselves the kinds of questions below:  

Do I judge others fairly, or am I habitually critical (both in what I say and what I think)?

Am I prone to anger? When I am angry, do I overreact and say or do things that inflict pain on others?

Do I avoid saying or doing what I believe is right because I fear how others will react or what they will think of me?

Am I stingy with my money or my time?

Am I able to ask for forgiveness?

Am I able to control my impulses, or do I give in to temptation easily?

Do I bear grudges and remain angry at others for a long time after an argument?  Can I accept a sincere apology?

When I hear of other people's sufferings or misfortunes, do I find ways to help them, or do I feel sadness in my heart but do nothing?

Do any of the questions resonate with you?  If so, focus on one or two areas of meaning and ask yourself:

Do I believe that change in this area of my life is possible?  What, if any, aspects of myself would I have to let go of in order to make this kind of change?

Have I tried to make a change like this before?  What stood in my way?  How might I avoid those same obstacles this time around?

What would my life, and the lives of those I love, look like if I could make this kind of change? *

May this Shabbat bring us rest and peace, and the quiet we need to begin to change and renew.

* Some questions taken from Rosh HaShanah Readings ed. by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins

The pebble in my shoe

A well-known story tells of a man who once walked across the continental United States.  When interviewed about his journey he was asked to identify his most difficult challenge.  Reporters posed possibilities: "The Rocky Mountains?"  "The heat of the desert?"  "Hunger or exhaustion?"

"No," he replied.  "My biggest challenge was the pebble in my shoe!"

Sometimes our greatest challenge is  one we can easily overcome, if we only take the time to acknowledge it and do what we can to resolve it.  Like the walker who could have simply removed the annoying pebble and continued his journey, we far too often refuse to face what troubles us most.  We are too busy, too harried, too distracted, too afraid.  Instead, we choose to live with those barriers we might easily overcome.

Not all challenges are easily overcome, of course.  We may face impossible odds, and sometimes accepting our limitations is another way to remove the barriers in our lives.  At times, we can best "remove the pebble" through acceptance - acknowledging the presence of realities in our life and learning to live with them.  The "pebble" may actually become a "friend" that can assist us in living more aware and real lives.

Elul's gift to us each year is the blessing of time to reflect upon those pebbles in our shoes, choosing which to remove and which to accept, and the wisdom of our tradition and the process of teshuvah to assist us in making the choice.

Consoling words, feelings...

The seven weeks leading up to Selichot (right before Rosh Hashanah) are called the Seven Weeks of Consolation.  According to Rabbi Hillel of Patrich, these seven weeks are linked to the seven emotions:

1. love
2. discipline
3. compassion
4. ambition
5. humility
6. bonding 
7. sovereignty

These are the feelings that offer us comfort and peacefulness. During these Seven Weeks of Consolation, we read the Haftarot (prophetic writings) from the writings of Isaiah, who offers words of hope and inspiration, such as, "Arise! Shine! For your light has arrived and the glory of God will be upon you." These  reassuring words could surely touch several of those emotions of R' Hillel, above.  

What words come to mind that you relate to the seven emotions?  

What instances in your life can you relate to the seven emotions? 

Is there a single event in your life that collects all or almost all of these emotions?

Understanding how we relate to the events is our lives, and knowing what makes us happy and being able to name it is a key to unlocking some of our baggage.  As Elul continues and we continue to unlock some of our pathways to self-understanding, we work in the lonely world of the self.  Know, however, that you are surrounded by a Congregation and people that embraces this discovery, and with that you are never alone. 

Extra food for thought: the first Torah portion read during Elul is Shoftim, the parashah that commands the creation of a justice system using a circuit of judges and consequences appropriate to the cause.  What do you make of Elul and a system of justice?  Interesting connections therein, for sure.