#elul

[aprettyjewishyear]

Golden Pomegranate. designed by Margaret Cobleigh and embroidered by Mary Corbet.

[honeysuckle-venom]

The Shofar Breaks Your Heart

by Dane Kuttler

When you give a girl a shofar –  no, not a proper instrument of G-d, but a rough-cut horn with no real mouthpiece her aunt brings back from a trip to Jerusalem, don’t make it easy.

Put it up on the shelf in the living room where its curled promise of a shout will tempt her until she can reach it on tiptoe.

Tell her no one has ever found its voice, that she will only make it grunt, bray and sputter like the animal it came from.

Then give her a few years.

Give her an empty garage and a neighborhood Jewish enough to understand what it’s hearing so she can practice until tiny tekiot burst forth from the scrap of ram.

She will be the only one who can ever shape its sounds, can bend the call to tekiah, round off nine drops of t’ruah wailing, fling the anguished cry of a sh’varim from its mouth.

Let her brag about this.  Remember that children are not humble creatures, that the simple act of being heard is their great triumph.  Let her be heard.

Bring her to Hebrew school. Teach her the story of the rabbi who told his students that he would put the words of Torah on their hearts; that the words would only find their way in when the students’ hearts broke. Let her sit with that tale for as long as it takes for her own heart to shatter, for torah and poetry and forgiveness  find their way inside,

play her Leonard Cohen. Let him croon about the cracks in everything, that’s how the light gets in, let her begin searching for light, ask her where she thinks the cracks come from, give her Auschwitz, give her Torquemada, give her pogrom and quota and blacklist, the ashes of all her burnt bridges, give her avinu malkenu, ashamnu, ashamnu, ashamnu, 

watch her break  her heart with her fist.

Give her the shofar.   Let the horn steal her breath, let her begin to understand that she’s not holding a dead piece of animal, but a living prayer.

Teach her: after every blast you can hear the echo of the still small voice.

If you listen for it, you can hear the calls for the wild cries they are; salute them with a straight back when they yank you from your amidah; and should you hear a shofar blower struggle and gasp and strain for each call, imagine yourself a trapped animal, desperate to be heard.

When it’s over, Close your eyes.

Be. Broken. Here.  Before G-d and your people. Be. Cracked.

feel the light and the words come in.

[maimonidesnutz]

my friend made this back in 2020 but it still works today

[extollingtheeveryday]

Maggie Smith // "Goldenrod" (2017)

[todaysjewishholiday]

Elul Practices

Unlike with the high holy days, the shalosh regalim, or even the period of the Omer, there are no specific ritual mitzvot for the month of Elul. Instead, the entire month is oriented around the most fundamental biblical mitzvah: teshuvah, ie return. Return to our best selves, return to HaShem and the covenant, return to the care for each other that can heal the world.

But Judaism doesn’t leave us without resources to promote mindfulness of this work during Elul.

I. Shofar

Many Jewish communities begin weekday shacharit prayers with a shofar blast. This serves as a spiritual wake-up call, a reminder of the upcoming encounter of the Yamim Noraim. In the Torah the sound of a shofar blast proceeded from the cloud atop Mount Sinai at the making of the covenant between the newly liberated multitude and HaShem. Even before Rosh HaShana became the Jewish new year during the exile in Babylon, the first of Tishri was known as Yom T’ruah (Day of the Shofar Blast) or Zikhron T’ruah (the Memorial Shofar Blast). Because the watchman’s sounding of the shofar would also be used to call the community together in times of calamity or attack, the sounding of the shofar served to shake our forebears out of their routines and focus them in preparation for the Day of Atonement ten days later. The sounding of the shofar on each weekday in Elul brings this wake up call even earlier and invites us to set our lives in order.

II. Tehillim

Psalm 27 is also added to the morning and evening prayers during Elul. This change also reminds us of the spiritual focus of the month, with the poet’s appeal, “Hear, HaShem, when I cry aloud; show mercy to me and answer me. My heart tells me to seek your face. HaShem, I seek you.”

III. Selichot

Selichot (from the Hebrew word selichah meaning forgiveness) are special piyyutim written throughout the generations of Jewish history to aid in the spiritual work of teshuvah. In Sephardi communities, the custom is to hold a Selichot service every day beginning on the second of Elul, while in Ashkenazi communities Selichot services generally begin roughly a week before Rosh HaShana, with only four services. Whatever your minhag or personal practice, the selichot prayers can help direct the soul towards the repair that Elul invites us to seek.

IV. Other Practices

In the past half century, the Reform, Reconstructionist and Renewal movements have seen a flowering of new practices to guide teshuvah during Elul. Search the web and you’ll find Elul workbooks and meditations galore. Many Jewish communities across the spectrum also see Elul as a time for interpersonal reconciliation as well as soul-work and emphasize reaching out who we have harmed or offended in the past year to attempt to mend what we can. The work of tzedekah— our obligation to provide assistance to those in poverty from what resources we have— is also a crucial aspect of teshuvah that is explored in many Elul traditions.

Teshuvah is deeply personal, and it’s good to remember that no specific practice is obligatory. These are not mitzvot, they are tools we can draw on as we seek to fulfill the ultimate mitzvah of return to ourselves, our righteous vows, and our G-d.

While this work is deeply personal, I encourage you to counteract the overly individualist and isolating spirit of our times and remember that the heart of teshuvah is in relationship, and in recognizing the webs of reciprocity and community and obligation we’re woven into. Recognizing our collective connectedness is at the heart of the healing that we’re offered through the path of teshuvah, and we cannot repair ourselves in isolation. May your labors this month prove fruitful, whatever type of teshuvah you may choose to seek.

[babka-enjoyer]

I found this MAGNIFICENT circular depiction of the Jewish calendar by Claymil on Redbubble (link is in their ig bio) and bought it immediately. I love that it’s sandwiched between celestial elements and includes the agricultural cycle.

I’m going to put 6 sawtooth hangers around the frame so the current season is always oriented up-ish. It would be even cooler if I could attach it to something that mounts to the wall and spins but I haven’t seen anything that fits the bill yet.

Edit: Also I cut it into a circle. It definitely did not come like that.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Hey fellow yidden: some motivation for you this Elul

So maybe this year you've done some backsliding on some mitzvot. So maybe you haven't davened as much as you would like. Maybe you missed opportunities to go to things in community because you just couldn't motivate yourself. Or perhaps there were things that you struggled to do individually.

Perhaps the reason that you missed opportunities for mitzvot is because you were afraid of missing out on something else.

Well, as a traditional egalitarian Jew who tries but has ADHD, depression, lots of executive dysfunction, a demanding job, relationships to maintain, and 900 hobbies, I feel you.

But fear not! I have two suggestions for ways to help you seek out mitzvot in every area of your life.

Suggestion the first: Weaponize the FOMO

At least for me, I'm always worried that if I daven as much as I would like to (as one example) I am going to miss out on [x] other thing. However, instead, sit yourself down and consider what one mitzvah you want to prioritize. Then, imagine never being able to do it again.

My friend, that day will come.

Mitzvot are for the living. A Jew being buried in their tallit has the tzitzit trimmed off first. Why? Because mitzvot are the project of the living and all we can know for sure about death is that it will come for all of us, eventually. If you believe in an afterlife, your deeds - good or bad - will accompany your soul on your way home. And you will be comforted and bask in the mitzvot you performed. And if you don't believe in an afterlife? Well, this is your one shot, and whatever deeds you leave behind is all that will be left of you someday.

Better wear those tzitzit now, then.

Suggestion the second:

Look for the kedusha in literally everything.

One of the truly amazing things about Judaism is that every moment, no matter how mundane, is full of opportunities to engage in mitzvot. Whether it's saying Asher Yatzar after using the restroom, washing your hands before meals, saying brachot before eating food, wearing certain clothing (tzniut, no shatnez, ritually significant like a kippah, etc.), being kind to animals (even insects), honoring your parents, visiting a sick or recovering friend, compromising with your spouse for shalom bayit, giving money to the poor, or simply reaching out to a friend who might be sad, lonely, and struggling - there are daily opportunities to connect and to infuse every moment of your life with holiness.

Judaism is so much about how we treat each other, our world, our bodies, and our communities, and these in turn are what help us to understand how to treat our souls and our relationship to the Divine. Judaism is about relationships. And the opportunities don't require you to go to shul, or don tefillin, wait for the high holidays, or give extravagantly. (Although those things are great if you want to do them, too!)

By design, the mitzvot are meant to allow you to connect with Judaism, with yourself, your world, and Hashem at every turn, simply by living your life. It's honestly a very old form of mindfulness, long before that was a buzzword.

So, weaponize that FOMO in one breath, knowing this is the only life we have, and in the next breath, really open your eyes to the opportunities that already surround you in every facet of your life. They are there if you look, and you will never miss out if you keep on looking.

[girlactionfigure]

Elul's gentle winds are rustling, urging us to heed the call to be a voice, not an echo.

You see, echoes are but pale shadows, fleeting whispers of something once real. Voices, on the other hand, carry weight, direction, and a splash of divine individuality. Ah, but how often we are tempted to be echoes, comfortably hidden in the chorus of conformity!

In Elul, the cosmic conductor raises their baton, and our life's music demands we stand apart, tune our instruments, and prepare to deliver a solo. Yes, your solo, not a mere reverberation of someone else's melody!

Think of your life as a grand, mysterious composition. An echo won't do. We're not here to simply bounce back the tunes of the times. We're here to be voices, resonating with the uniqueness and purpose that only we can bring.

As the Elul Shofar sounds its notes, let it be a reminder that your voice is no mere soundbite in the universe's song, but a profound symphony all its own. Don't let your melody get lost in the echoes of doubt or fear. Strum the strings of your heart and sing the song only you can sing.

Let’s not be parrots of the past, but pioneers of the present. In the orchestra of life, you're not the second fiddle; you're the soloist! So belt out your truths, embrace your divine spark, and may your voice ripple through the ages, long after the echoes have faded away.

Rabbi Yisroel Bernath

[challahbeloved]

the king may be in the field, but what if I’m in the river?

[hebrewbyinbal]

As we step into the month of Elul, we are invited to pause and reflect.

Elul, pronounced /e-'lool/ and spelled אלול, is not just another month; it's a sacred time for personal introspection, a gentle call to come closer to ourselves, to others, and to something greater.

This is the time to let go of the burdens we've been carrying, to forgive ourselves for the times we’ve stumbled, and to remember that growth is a process.

There’s no need to rush or feel overwhelmed.

Instead, embrace this time as an opportunity to reconnect with your inner strength, to ask yourself what truly matters, and to make space for new beginnings.

Elul whispers that it’s never too late to return, to refine, and to realign.

Whether in small steps or big leaps, every effort counts.

Take comfort in knowing that this month invites softness, healing, and a fresh start.

You’re right where you need to be.

Step forward with peace, and trust the journey unfolding before you.

[al-kol-eleh]

Raylan Givens

Elul- "The King is in His field"

[aprettyjewishyear]

mosaic of a basket of pomegranates, found in the Maon Synagogue, a 6th-century synagogue and archaeological site in the Negev Desert. photo credit to Avishai Teicher.

[ta-chazei]

The Hebrew month of Elul begins tomorrow. It's a month that is meant to be focused on returning to the best parts of ourselves. If you find it helpful, here are some suggestions of daily acts of kindness (in Hebrew, chesed) for the month leading up to Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year.

[yenteleh]

“Return to Me and I will return to You.” (Malachi 3.7.). A king had a son who had committed a grevious sin and was exiled to a far country. After some time, the king begun to yearn for his son and sent a messenger to him, saying “Return to me.” The son replied. “I cannot return, for the way is too far.” Thereupon the king sent a message back again “Do not fear, but start on the journey and come as far as you are able. I will come the rest of the way to meet you.”

- Pesikta Rabbati 184

[extollingtheeveryday]

Sunset on Lake Superior // Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, Michigan

[todaysjewishholiday]

1 Elul 5784 (3-4 September 2024)

“Ani l’dodi v’dodi li/ I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” Shir HaShirim 6:3

Chodesh tov! Today is the first day of Elul, and the second day of Rosh Chodesh. The grief and consolation of Av is behind us for another year and we turn inwards and upwards. The sages make much of the fact that the Hebrew spelling of the word Elul— aleph lamed vav lamed— is an acronym for the poetic declaration of love which they took to be a statement of HaShem’s love for the Jewish people. In Jewish tradition, Elul is a month when the sovereign of heaven and earth leaves the throne and joins us in the field of our day to day struggles— a time when G-d draws near to us, making it that much easier for us to draw near to G-d.

This month-long period of divine closeness is of course a prelude to what is to come— the ten day period beginning with Rosh haShana and ending with Yom Kippur during which Jewish tradition calls us to to do the work of repairing our relationships with our fellow humans and the divine in preparation for our eventual mortality. These ten days— the Yamim Noraim, or Days of Awe— require a level of spiritual awareness that cannot be reached in a sudden leap. It requires at minimum a thirty day head start. Which is exactly what our tradition tells us Elul can be for us.

Forty day periods are important in the Hebrew Bible. In the beginning, it takes forty days and nights of continuous rain to cleanse the earth of human violence in the flood narrative. Later, Moshe spends forty days and nights receiving the words of the covenant directly from HaShem on Mount Sinai. And then, if midrash is to be trusted, does so two more times after his first visit ends with the catastrophe of the golden calf. The twelve spies spend forty days scouting out the promised land— and the outcome of their bad report is forty more years of exile. Eliyahu also spends forty days fasting en route to and atop Mount Sinai, and Yonah gives the city of Nineveh a forty day advance warning of its potential destruction. The thirty days of Elul and ten days of the Yamim Noraim give us an annual forty day period of introspection and repair work. Teshuvah and self awareness are of course intended to be continual, but we can still benefit from this season of heightened introspection and added deliberateness in our examination of where we are and what we need to work on to become who we want to become. May this season be fruitful and meaningful for you all.