23^rd Elul  31^st August

Most of us find it hard to admit to being wrong. We have what is known in psychology as “error blindness”

This may be because we have long internalised that making an error demonstrates our incompetence, or inadequate morality, or even our stupidity, so we prefer to be blind to our own mistakes and often double down on them rather than acknowledge them.

We know that “to err is human” – that as a general principle human beings are fallible, we make mistakes. We know that learning follows a pattern of getting things not quite right until we get them right. But as individuals, we tend to take our own subjective position and weave stories around the inconvenient parts until we can defend ourselves and what we “know” to be right.

Kathryn Shulz asks in her Ted talk “On Being Wrong” “how does it feel to be wrong? The answers show an interesting disconnect – people will generally say “it feels bad, or embarrassing or uncomfortable”. But these are not answers to the question – instead they are answers to the question “how does it feel when you realise you are wrong?”.  When we are wrong, and haven’t realised it, we simply don’t notice. We assume it is the fault of the other person that they disagree with us. And because we assume there is a problem with the other, then we find it hard to connect with them.

Shulz argues that our ability to see things other than with complete objectivity is inherently human. We expect something to happen, and if something else happens we either don’t notice it or we generate stories about it that keep our expectation safe. We bring forth our own reality and so stay in our comfortable space.

 “For good and for ill, we generate these incredible stories about the world around us,” she says, “and then the world turns around and astonishes us. . . . If you really want to rediscover wonder, you need to step out of that tiny, terrified space of rightness, and look around at each other. And look out at the vastness and complexity, and mystery of the universe and be able to say, ‘Wow. I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.”

If we really want to rediscover wonder, we need to step out of our tiny space of being right, and look around us. Notice what else – and who else – is there. Notice other realities. Be able to say “I might be wrong” without any of the judgemental aspects we are often so afraid of.  Owning our mistakes can take us to wide new spaces, open us up to experiences and understandings and relationships we may otherwise think unimaginable.

Our liturgy for this time contains a number of ritualised confessions. Ashamnu, Bagadnu, Gazalnu – I have been guilty, I have betrayed, I have stolen, I have been hypocritical…..  Maybe we should add another vidui line – “I was wrong, I am wrong, I will be wrong about so much – and now is the time to stop defending my view and think about it again.

Elul 21   29 August

“I am not immortal.

Whatever I put off for later

May never be.

Whoever doesn’t know now

That I love them

May never know.

I have killed time.

    I have squandered it.

            I have lost days…weeks…

As a man of unlimited wealth

Might drop coins on the street

And never look back.

I know now, that there will be an end,

A limit.

But there is time

Valuable and precious time

To walk,

        talk,

            breathe.

Time to touch,

        taste,

            care.

To warm the child

Who is cold and lonely.

There is time to love

I promise myself…

            I will.

I am

I am ready

I am ready to give

I am ready to give and to receive

I am ready to give and to receive love”

This poem is part of a longer work by Leonard Nimoy, published in 1973

Suggestions for reflection

With the limited time we all have on this earth, what are the most important things for you to have done?

Are you ready to give love – to others and to yourselves?

Are you ready to receive love – from others and from yourself?

Is there something you can decide to do in order to show more love to yourself or to others?

Elul 20 28^th August

Leil Selichot

Leil Selichot ( the night of penitential prayers in preparation for the Yamim Noraim)occurs after nightfall this Saturday evening.

This service is usually said on the Saturday evening before Rosh Hashanah, although it may be done on the Saturday evening the week before if Rosh Hashanah is early in the week. Then there are selichot services on the following early morning throughout Elul.

Selichot are prayers which ask for forgiveness (you may be used to hearing the word “selicha” – please or excuse me – in Israel). A major theme of the selichot service will be the repeated recitation of the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy, derived from the biblical verses Exodus 34:6-7 – Adonai Adonai El Rachum v’Chanun,  Erech apayim v’rav Chesed v’Emet. Notzer Chesed la’alafim, Nosei Avon v’fesha v’hata’a v’nakeh” _ The Eternal, The Eternal, God of mercy and grace, slow to anger and filled with lovingkindness and truth, who forgives iniquity and transgression and sin and who cleanses us of guilt.”

The locus of this verse is immediately after the incident of the Golden Calf, when God had threatened to destroy the people of Israel rather than forgive them (32:10) and Moses had to plead and persuade God to stay with the people. Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 17b) comments that Israel’s sin was so serious that there was no possibility of successful intervention on their behalf, but God was moved  and so appeared to Moses and taught him the Thirteen Attributes, saying “Whenever Israel sins, let them recite this (verse) in its proper order, and I will forgive them.” . No wonder then that the selichot services are built around the recitation of this verse, and no wonder that this period, while solemn and reflective in nature is not depressed or fatalistic. The possibility – indeed the fact of – forgiveness from God, is available to us, as long as we do the work of teshuvah, of acknowledging and repairing our mistakes, of resolving to do better in the coming year and making the behavioural changes to do so, of accepting our full selves and moving on.

In Elul we are told, God is close. The doors to mercy and forgiveness are open. And like every journey, it begins with the first step.

Elul 18  26^th August 2021

Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer v’Sarah, known as the Baal Shem Tov (or BeSHT) was born on 18^th Elul in 1698  and is credited with being the founder of Chasidut.

He was orphaned young and brought up by the community, and while little is known of his early life, there are stories about him going out into nature in order to pray, and he developed a particularly strong emotional and spiritual bond with God.

He worked for the community, as a teacher in the school an as the synagogue shammes (caretaker) and it is said that he became immensely knowledgeable about Jewish texts, studying on his own in his spare time – yet all the time presenting as a simple person rather than as a scholar.

Then, married and established in his home village, he began to study kabbalah, and eventually his reputation as a mystic and a healer spread. He taught a Judaism that was less rigorously intellectually based and more focussed on relationship with, and closeness to, God. It also stressed love of one’s fellow human being and the importance of prayer. There were many rabbis known as Ba’al Shem – literally the master of the name, or people of repute, but only Israel became the Ba’al Shem Tov – the person of excellent reputation.

The folk stories around him, the teachings which were written down by his students and followers rather than by the man himself, make him both very comprehensible and very mysterious. But while  his teachings and his desire to make religion accessible to the ordinary person are powerful and important, I find myself struck now in Elul by the idea of being the owner of a good name.  What do we do to enhance our own reputation and the reputation of our community? What drives us to become Ba’alei shem in our own worlds? And are we sometimes less interested in our reputation amongst those less powerful than ourselves, while focussing on how we appear to those who are more powerful?

Elul 17 25 August

In Hebrew, breath is synonymous with the life force, not just in a mechanistic way, but breath is more than our intake or expulsion of air, it is that which animates us, and signifies the soul.

At the beginning of the book of Genesis we read that “The Eternal God formed the human being  ha’adam) from the dust of the earth. God blew into their nostrils the breath of life, and the creature (ha’adam) became a living being.  Genesis 2:7

And In the book of Proverbs we read:

נֵ֣ר יְ֭הֹוָה נִשְׁמַ֣ת אָדָ֑ם חֹ֝פֵ֗שׂ כׇּל־חַדְרֵי־בָֽטֶן׃

The lifebreath of humanity is the light of the Eternal,  Revealing all their inmost parts.

There are five different words used for the soul – nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah, and yechidah (see Bereishit rabbah 14:9)  The Hebrew language is generally very sparing, relatively few verbal roots expand to mean a plethora of meaning. But here we have five different aspects to our unique human selves.

Rav Saadia Gaon explained the different words thus:

   “ .. When [the soul] is attached to the body, one can see it three abilities: – the power of choice – the power of desire – the power of anger Therefore it is called in our language by three names: nefesh, ruach and neshamah.

 …”nefesh”  has the power of desire,  we see for example the phrase “for the desire of your nefesh” (Devarim 12:20), “his nefesh was satisfied of desire” (Job 33:20).

  And  the “ru’ach”  contains the power of being annoyed and angry, when it says “do not become empty through your ru’ach by getting angry” (Kohelet 7:9), 

 And  the “neshamah” has the power of wisdom, as it says “the ‘Neshamah’ of Shakaai will understand them” (Job 32:8).

    Because of these different traits we might say that that one of them is in the heart and the other in the rest of the body. Rather, all three are in the soul (nefesh) alone. So it became necessary to add more words:  “chayah” and “yechidah”. It is called “chayah” because it lives on account of the Creator, and  “yechidah” because this is unique to humankind.

According to Rav Saadia Gaon, we each have one indivisible soul with different aspects.  We have desire, which draws us towards people and we have anger which drives us away. And finally, we have thought/ knowledge /Wisdom.

With every breath we take, we prioritise one of the aspects – moving towards others or driving them away, or trying to understand or simply waiting for the next breath. But at all times we are unique, and every breath we take is a gift from our creator.

The only real question we have is – how are we using our living breathing selves to make ourselves an our world a better place.