Mediations and Reflection on Elul

5 Elul 5785 | Rabbi Sarah Krinsky

There are some universally awkward moments in which it is hard to know what to do or how to behave. When people sing happy birthday to you. When the community is singing you mazel tov (and you’re done shielding yourself from flying candy). When someone is introducing you by reading aloud from your formal bio. Each of these moments bump up against the uncomfortable realization that for many of us, being givers of celebration, joy, praise or appreciation comes naturally, whereas being recipients of these same interpersonal offerings can be a challenge.

The same can be true with repentance.

Much of our focus during the month of Elul and the subsequent Days of Awe is the work of asking for forgiveness. This process is multistep and multifaceted - we must excavate our memories and habits, our relationships and encounters; we must discern who it is we have wronged and how; and we must summon the courage and vulnerability to take responsibility and pledge to do better. It’s a lot. And - it is, on its own, not enough.

Part of what the Yamim Nora’im remind us is that none of us exist in a vacuum. We are enmeshed in webs of connection and community, which means that the number of times as we each individually and collectively ask for forgiveness thus create the same number of corresponding opportunities to grant forgiveness. Asking is only half of the process.

The Rambam acknowledges this in his laws on teshuva. After reflecting on how it is we are to atone for our own wrongdoings, he then shifts perspectives:

אָסוּר לָאָדָם לִהְיוֹת אַכְזָרִי וְלֹא יִתְפַּיֵּס אֶלָּא יְהֵא נוֹחַ לִרְצוֹת וְקָשֶׁה לִכְעֹס וּבְשָׁעָה שֶׁמְּבַקֵּשׁ מִמֶּנּוּ הַחוֹטֵא לִמְחל מוֹחֵל בְּלֵב שָׁלֵם וּבְנֶפֶשׁ חֲפֵצָה.

It is forbidden for a person to be cruel and refuse to be appeased. Rather, one should be easily pacified, but hard to anger. When the person who wronged asks for forgiveness, one should forgive with a complete heart and a willing spirit.

(Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Teshuva 2:10)

Admitting to having caused harm requires self reflection and taking responsibility. And that is scary. But granting someone who has caused you harm a clean slate, and in so doing potentially also the opportunity to cause said harm again - that might be even scarier.

This Elul, may we engage in the work of not just acknowledging where we ourselves have failed and seeking proper forgiveness, but also in cultivating the strength and the faith to encounter those who have caused us hurt and to do the holy work of granting forgiveness.

3 Elul 5785/August 27th, 2025 RAA

For some who read what follows, I expect it will make perfect sense. I also imagine that for others, it will be absolutely incomprehensible. It’s not a great way to begin a written piece, I know, but it’s Elul. No straight lines. 

Willie Nelson once wrote: “I believe that all roads lead to the same place - and that is wherever all roads lead to.”  This is a story about that. 

About 25 years ago I brought a sefer (holy book) back from Jerusalem that I frankly happened upon. It’s a collection of common Jewish practices (minhagim) and some theories as to how those practices originated. It functions kind of like an encyclopedia. Anyways, I recently wondered when the term for upcoming holidays, Yamim Nora’im/Days of Awe emerged, and checked my old book for an answer. The first citation for some reason poinated me to a passage in the 16th century Jewish Law code, the Shulhan Arukh, written by Rabbi Yosef Karo. I was surprised to be pointed in this direction as I know that the passage is one that is primarily concerned with the laws of minyan. I considered moving on, but somehow couldn’t. So I pulled the volume from my shelf and opened it up. 

Here’s what the passage says: “A city/town that doesn't have more than 10 [Jewish adults] in it, and one of them wants to leave on the Yamim Nora’im: they may compel this person to remain. Or [if that’s not in their best interest], to pay another to take their place. And if there are 11 and two want to leave, the two of them jointly pay for one in their place, and the two of them split it equally. 

And if one is poor and one rich, they split [the total cost]: half according to [how much] money [each one is able to pay] and half [divided] according to [the number of] individuals. And the Hazzan’s [Yamim Nora’im] salary is on those who leave just as on those who remain.”

So, it is kind of a text about the Yamim Nora’im, at least tangentially. And it certainly helps prove that these coming Holy Days are referred to as the Yamim Nora’im in classical Jewish texts dating pretty far back. Did it answer my original question? Not at all. 

But here’s what it did do. I was so fascinated by the second clause–how the money paid is to be split–that I abandoned my first question and seriously rabbit-holed into another. I pulled multiple books off the shelves, spread them around my office, pulled up pictures of manuscripts on the computer, phoned a friend, and experienced the unparalleled pleasure of getting wonderfully lost in the minutia of Jewish text. 

So that’s Elul. 
Start with a real question about life. 
See where it takes us. 
Expect detours to present themselves. 
Take the ones which seem to be meaningful in either process or content. 
Learn something new. 
Find something old. 
Be surprised by ourselves. 
Ask for help when we need it. 

Then repeat. 

1 Elul 5785/August 25th, 2025 - REY and Sarah Brooks

“Ambition left to itself, always becomes tedious, its only object the creation of larger and larger empires of control; but a true vocation calls us out beyond ourselves; breaks our heart in the process and then humbles, simplifies and enlightens us about the hidden, core nature of the work that enticed us in the first place. We find that all along, we had what we needed from the beginning and that in the end we have returned to its essence, an essence we could not understand until we had undertaken the journey.”

― David Whyte, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

The Hassidic Masters talk about this idea too. A return to our essence, our essential selves during this season of introspection and renewal. We might feel lost without a map or GPS. The last few years, who are we kidding, the last 5 years have forced us to re-orient ourselves in a world we do not recognize and cannot quite understand. In turn the very journey to find ourselves, our souls and hearts is confusing and murky. Our kivvun, the very compass we used to use, does not work any more. Herein lies a tool we hope will help - kavnnot (notice the linguistic link) intentions to help us re-orient, re-direct and re-focus as we begin this season of reflection, 30 days leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Find yourself closer to the Holy One, to your essential self and to the fellow community members on the journey. May the path be widened and your spiritual travels lead you to a heart of many rooms. 

Abundance by Sarah Brooks

Several years ago, as the days began to shorten, I was moved by the realization that Autumn is the season of abundance; not Spring. Farmers Markets full of tomatoes, melons, cucumbers; and the promise of the squash/gourd season around the corner.

It might have also been the first Elul that I had no kids at home. Each off in various stages of making their own way in the world. It irked me that Elul always fell at one of the busiest times of year for mothers. Vacations to wash and pack for, which was nothing compared to the preparations for the new school year. My days back then were consumed with clothing and book purchases, planning driving routes, and dreading the question: have you done your homework yet? Amidst all this whirlwind (which I will be the first to admit, I miss terribly), when was I supposed to do my Elul work?. When was I supposed to take stock of my life, instead of taking stock of lunch making supplies? The only time I was truly alone was at 2 am when I made my mid-night bathroom break.

Now that I have the time, for me it starts with Tisha b’av. The dark room and minor key of the liturgy brings me to the place of starting to take stock. I begin to think about the losses of the previous year and, if I’m honest, the opportunities for change those losses present. Yes, the destruction of the Temple was terrifying for those who held the Temple as the center of their

spiritual universe; but it also afforded the Jewish people to nurture the nascent Rabbinic Judaism that would become the Judaism I know, love, and struggle with. The gift of Elul, like the Autumn Farmers Markets, is a gift of abundance. The chance to do Cheshbon haNefesh and various Mussar practices might make it possible for me to live a better life next year. Both the abundance of the Farmers Markets and the chance for a fresh start each Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur come from God; a sign of the partnership between God and Jewish people to improve ourselves the world around us.