The twenty ninth day of Elul

Finding our way to forgiveness – to look for it or to offer it – is a process of mind, body and soul. It begins with a decision – or maybe better – a choice.
It is the decision to let go what has hurt us, to choose to leave vengeance to God, as the bible says. It is the decision not to look for revenge or for payback, to choose to stop letting the one/s who hurt us continue to live rent free in our heads. We can choose to quarantine our negativity, to free ourselves from our anger or resentments.
It is not an easy choice to make, and it is probably not a one-time decision – it is an ongoing “choosing” – a determination not to be governed by bad feelings and – however legitimate – antipathies.
It is the choice that will promote our healing and our inner peace. Will stabilise and ground us, helping us back into life
The “prepare and enrich” workbook for couples says of forgiveness:
“It is also important to be clear about what forgiveness is not. Forgiveness is not forgetting, condoning, or perpetuating injustice. Since it is sometimes unsafe or impossible, forgiveness does not always involve reconciliation. Forgiveness is not always quick; it is a process that can take time to unfold.”

Making the choice towards seeking or granting forgiveness can change the year ahead for each of us. Taking the time to review what we need to do this, to look for forgiveness and to ask for it, or else to offer it where we can – this can change us and it can change our world.

The rabbis tell us that God watches us and how we treat others. And God’s decisions are partly based on our own behaviour. If we treat others with compassion and forgiveness, how will God not be able to treat us with that same warm compassion and forgiveness?

the twenty eighth day of Elul

What do we do when we remember?
The Hebrew root זָכַר appears about 240 times in Tanakh – meaning to call to mind, mentioning, or bringing to active awareness. The verb extends beyond cognitive recall; and includes the expectation of acting on what is remembered.
It is not surprising that the command to remember is so powerful in Judaism and Jewish texts – with no remembering there is no story to be passed down the generations, there is no long term identity, there is no more past, present and future.
And remembering is one of the first stages of teshuvah – of our journey back towards God, our journey to become our best selves, to return to who we would ideally be.
But remembering can also be problematic. Sometimes it is a mitzvah to forget, to let go of emotions that hold us back from the journey of teshuvah.
And sometimes the problem is that remembering is an active behaviour, and as we remember we already change what was. Years ago as an undergraduate I was taught that memory had been thought to be fixed, that one could take it out and examine it and return it without change, but that that understanding of memory was painfully wrong. Each time we examine a memory, consider it, relive it, or simply recall it – we change it and we return it changed.
As Marcel Proust famously wrote ““Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.”
Sometimes memory plays us false by providing us with the bittersweet feelings of nostalgia, as we yearn for something we may never truly have had, but certainly can not recreate exactly in our present. Sometimes memory damages us by the different lenses time has evolved, so that what happened in the past may be seen quite differently then than we see it in the present. As LP Hartley wrote in The Go-Between: “The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there”
Memory can be a false friend, but we cannot disentangle ourselves from the need to remember. It is important to remember and review, to repent and to mitigate, to let go and to move forward towards living the life of our best selves. But as you think back, remember that memory is created by us, changed by our interaction with it, not always what it seems
Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachmani (Berachot 55b) wrote “A person is shown in a dream only what is suggested by their own thoughts…”
We remember through the lens of history, of experiences, of emotion.
Judaism commands us to remember – the sabbath day, the covenant at Sinai, the exodus from Egypt – to remember and to tell the story so others remember too.
Going forward, what do you want to remember? And what do you need to forget?
What do you want others to remember? And what do you hope they will forget?
Memories can be created in every moment we live – and they can be overlaid and enriched by how we continue to explore them. Life is for building on memories and for making memories. Until our last breath, making memories is the gift we have been given.

The twenty sixth day of Elul

MISHNAH: Rebbi Neḥoniah ben Haqqanah used to recite a short prayer when he entered and when he left the house of study. They asked him, what kind of prayer is this? He told them: When I enter, I pray that no mishap should come through me and when I leave I give thanks for my lot….
Gemara:…. In the house of Rebbi Yannai they say: He who awakes from his sleep must say “Praised are You, o Eternal, Who resurrects the dead. My Lord, I sinned before You. May it please You, o Eternal, my God, that You might give me a good heart, good part, good inclinations, good hope, good repute, benevolent eye, good soul, meek soul and meek spirit. Your Name should not be desecrated by us; do not make us a byword in the mouths of all creatures; our future should not end in destruction, nor our hope in sorrow… (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 4:2)
There are many personal prayers in tractate Berachot in both of the Talmuds, and many of them resonate powerfully to this day. But coming across this one – a prayer both about personal responsibility and about the responsibility we have for others, feels particularly relevant to this season and this year. Rebbi Nehonia was a contemporary of R. Yochanan ben Zakkai, a 2nd generation tanna. He directed his own academy and authored several prayers and laws. Highly respected by his peers, he attributed his unusually advanced age to his harmonious relations with others. His prayer that he would not mislead or misinform others in the study house, and his gratitude for his lot show both humility and deep appreciation for his life. But it is the prayer of R. Yannai, to be said every morning on wakening and to add to the blessing for the return of the soul to the body, asking God for a good heart, good reputation, good actions… and then the petition that our actions align with God’s expectations of us, that we do not act to create a Hillul haShem, desecrating the name of God in the world, and finally that we should continue into the future, that we should continue to hope. The prayer goes from the very personal and individual into the equally personal but communal space – we belong to a community, how we behave in that community and how that community behaves in our name is part of the same “whole”.

The twenty fifth day of Elul

Ani Ve’Ata (Me and You)
by Arik Einshtein

Ani v’Ata by Arik Einstein

Me and You
Me and you, we’ll change the world
Me and you, then all the others will come
It was already said before
It doesn’t matter
Me and you, we’ll change the world.
Me and you, we’ll try from the beginning
It will be bad for us,
Never mind, it’s not terrible
It was already said before
It doesn’t matter
Me and you, we’ll change the world.
Me and you, we’ll change the world
Me and you, then all the others will come
It was already said before
It doesn’t matter
Me and you, we’ll change the world.

אֲנִי וְאַתָּה

אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְשָׁנֶה אֶת הַעוֹלָם,
אֲנִי וְאַתָּה אַז יַבוֹאוּ כְּבָר כּוּלָּם,
אַמְרוּ אֶת זֶה קוֹדֶם לְפַנָי,
לֹא מְשָׁנֶה – אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְשָׁנֶה אֶת הַעוֹלָם.

אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְנָסֶה מֵהַתְחָלָה,
יְהֶיֶה לָנוּ רַע, אֵין דָּבָר זֶה לֹא נוֹרָא,
אַמְרוּ אֶת זֶה קוֹדֶם לְפַנָי,
זֶה לֹא מְשָׁנֶה – אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְשָׁנֶה אֶת הַעוֹלָם.

אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְשָׁנֶה אֶת הַעוֹלָם,
אֲנִי וְאַתָּה אַז יַבוֹאוּ כְּבָר כּוּלָּם,
אַמְרוּ אֶת זֶה קוֹדֶם לְפַנָי,
לֹא מְשָׁנֶה – אֲנִי וְאַתָּה נְשָׁנֶה אֶת הַעוֹלָם.

Arik Einstein wrote this song in 1971, and it quickly became the song for a generation, who needed the optimism it expressed and who desperately wanted to believe that the world could be changed for the better by them.
The narrative seems fairly simple – together we can change the world, others will come and join us, some will scoff and mock, we aren’t the first generation to try to do this and others have failed. But none of this matters because you and I can change the world.
But look a little deeper than youthful optimism expressed in song. Ani v’Ata – You and I – it echoes Martin Buber’s I-Thou philosophy – the relationship between human beings is predicated on the relationship between human beings and God and God (the Eternal ‘Thou’). Sometimes our relationships with others are superficial or contractual or otherwise “others” the other – we treat people as objects rather than find ourselves seeing them and their humanity, rather than creating deeper relationship. But as Buber writes, it is possible for us to create good and satisfying and mutually beneficial relationships with others if we take from what we have learned from our I-Thou relationship and use it in the human realm.
There is of course more to this song – You and I – we need each other, we need the partnership and the relationship of others for us to be our best selves. Just as God creates an “ezer k’negdo” a partner who is equal and different from the first human being in Genesis, so all human being need others to help them to grow and to change.
And then the other “hooks” in the song – “it will be bad for us” “it was already said before” – referencing the hardships of people who strive to be different, to bring change, to lead others and convince them of the importance of what is needed to be done. Referencing the endless iterations of people trying and failing to make change, who often then come to believe that change is not possible.
But this song says – change is possible. It will be hard for us and we may find others mocking or tearing down our visions of the future, but change is possible. We can do it together. It is up to the reader who is the partner – it can be other people it can be a relationship with the divine, it can be both possibilities – But it is always possible to change, and it is up to us to make the first steps towards change.

The twenty fourth day of Elul

אַחַת  שָׁאַלְתִּי מֵאֵת־יְהֹוָה אוֹתָהּ אֲבַקֵּשׁ שִׁבְתִּי בְּבֵית־יְהֹוָה כׇּל־יְמֵי חַיַּי לַחֲזוֹת בְּנֹעַם־יְהֹוָה וּלְבַקֵּר בְּהֵיכָלוֹ׃
One thing I ask of God, only that do I seek:
to live in God’s house all the days of my life,
to gaze upon God’s beauty, to frequent the temple.

There is a widespread practice in the Jewish world to recite psalm 27 from the beginning of Elul until the end of Sukkot, a practice that is said to have stemmed from the kabbalistic belief that the name of God is found in it thirteen times, and these correspond to thirteen pathways of mercy, so the psalm enables us to reach the mercy of God and annul the expected heavenly decrees of judgement we might face at this time. (Benjamin Beinish in Shem Tov Katan 9b)


It is a beautiful psalm, and unusual too in that the trajectory of the psalm moves from a rather definite certainty in God’s protection, through anxiety and fear of enemies who can do great harm, leading to a recognition of the need for God’s protection – one would normally expect that trajectory to be the other way around.


And the mood changes from the initial absolute certainty in the protection of God with this verse – “Achat Sha’alti -One thing I ask of God”


For the psalmist the request is for the ability to be part of the Temple life and rhythm, – to live in God’s house, protected and safe from the wars and enemies who are all around.
While we can sadly recognise the scenario of being surrounded by enemies wanting Israel’s end, we neither have a Temple nor do we expect God to protect us from enemies or to intervene in modern warfare.


The psalmist writes of external enemies, but the use of this psalm in our penitential period points to a different interpretation – of our confidence in God being questioned not by outside events but by our own internal processes, our doubts or our feelings of dislocation because of our own behaviours.


Which leads us to the question – what is the one thing we would ask of God today, for ourselves, if we could? And having thought of what we might ask of God, what is one thing God might ask of us?

The twentieth day of Elul

Maimonides writes, in his Mishneh Torah (composed c1176)

“Suppose one should say: since jealousy, lust, ambition, and the like passions, are bad, and tend to bring people to an untimely end, I will withdraw from them altogether, and remove to the other extreme—and in this one might go so far as even not to eat meat, not to drink wine, not to marry, not to reside in a respectable dwelling house, and not to put on any proper garments, but only sackcloth, or coarse wool, or the like….. and one who walks in this way is called a sinner; for it is said with regard to the Nazarite: And he shall make an atonement for him, for that he sinned against the soul. On this the sages observe: “If the Nazarite who abstained from wine only, stands in need of an atonement, how much more does he require it, who abstains from every enjoyment.” The sages have therefore directed, that people should refrain from those things only, which the law forbids; but that we should not impose a self prohibition by vows or oaths, of such things as are lawful. Thus the sages say: “Is not that sufficient for you, which the law has prohibited, that you should even impose upon yourself restrictions of other things?”….. Solomon has directed us and said: Be not righteous over much; nor make yourself over wise; why should you destroy yourself? (Eccles. 7. 16). (Mishneh Torah, Human Dispositions 3:1)

While in a penitential mode, travelling through the days of Elul to reach first Rosh Hashanah and then Yom Kippur, spending time in self examination and reflection about our lives, it would be easy to look for ways to make our lives less fun and enjoyable, as a mark of our sincerity of repentance, or because we think this is what we ought to be doing.

So this is a salutary reminder that enjoyment of this world and its many wonderful and beautiful things is a way to appreciate the Creator of all, that over-zealous self-flagellation or misery arising from what we feel we have not done right so far in our lives is not the way to reach connection to our Divine parent.

As Bachya ibn Pekuda in his book “Duties of the Heart” wrote: “Many good things are left unenjoyed, and the happiness to be had from them becomes tainted either because people do not recognise the good in it, or they do not realise its value.”

So here is a poem by ee cummings to remind us of the value of enjoyment of our world, bringing us closer to God

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

The fourteenth day of Elul

From the very days of your ancestors you have turned away from My laws and have not observed them. Turn back to Me, and I will turn back to you—said GOD of Hosts. But you ask, “How shall we turn back?” Malachi 3:7

לְמִימֵי אֲבֹתֵיכֶם סַרְתֶּם מֵחֻקַּי וְלֹא שְׁמַרְתֶּם שׁוּבוּ אֵלַי וְאָשׁוּבָה אֲלֵיכֶם אָמַר יְהֹוָה צְבָאוֹת וַאֲמַרְתֶּם בַּמֶּה נָשׁוּב׃

Teshuvah – Returning to the ways that God expects of us, is the theme of these Days of Awe, and again and again our liturgy exhorts us to return to God, and that should we do so, God will return to us. But as the prophet Malachi records – sometimes our response to that exhortation is – I would like to – but how do I do it?

Tradition tells us that teshuvah is not an event, but a process. Maimonides codifies the laws of Repentance in his Mishneh Torah, which begins

(1) All commandments of the Torah, whether they be mandatory or prohibitive, if a person violates any one of them, either presumptuously or erroneously, when they will repent and turn away from their sinful way, they are obliged to confess before God, blessed is God! even as it is said: “When a man or woman shall commit any sin..… Then they shall confess their sin which they have done (Num. 5.6–7), which is a confession of words. Such confession is a mandatory commandment.”

So the very beginning of the process is that a person must have in some way sinned, either deliberately or by mistake, and that they will recognise that they have done so. The recognition then leads to an acknowledgement, in the form of a confession before God.

How do we recognise and acknowledge what we have done / failed to do? The process is called cheshbon hanefesh – literally the accounting of the soul. The metaphor of a cheshbon is deliberate – the word is used in hebrew to describe a calculation, a reckoning, an account, and is the word in modern hebrew for the bill at a point of sale.

So we begin by looking in detail at our past selves, and look at each action – was it something that gave my life more meaning and brought me closer to my best self? Was it something I did carelessly that maybe impacted negatively? Was it something that brought me selfish gain or pleasure but did not reflect well on my values?

It is the first step in a process of return to our best selves, but cheshbon nefesh does not only have to be done retroactively as we reflect on our lives at this time. Cheshbon nefesh can be a useful metric for us to make choices going forward – we can ask ourselves how a particular choice will sit in the accounts book – will it take me closer to who I want to be or will it take me further away?

The ninth day of Elul

“And God lifted me out of the pit of destruction, etc.” Did David really descend into a pit? Rather, David said, “I was already on my way down to the pit, and God did not let me fall.” And so it says (Psalm 16:11), “You make known to me the path of life.” Therefore it is said, “God lifted me out of the pit of destruction,” and not only that, but God lifted me up to a high place, as it says (Psalm 18:34), “God made my feet like the feet of deer and set me secure on the heights.” Why did God do this for me? Because of my hope in God. God did not desire sacrifices or offerings, but rather hope. (Midrash Tehillim 40:2)

The Midrash on psalm 40 reminds us that we are not alone, that the universe is neither random nor intentionally cruel. That if we continue to strive for hope, even in the face of what may feel a lot like despair or destruction, then God will not be far away.

Nachman of Bratslav- a famous depressive – is reported as having said it is forbidden to despair:

At the time he spoke the torah on Va’etchanan, which was published in Likutei [Moharan], Part II, section 78, and he’s speaking there about it being always forbidden to bring oneself to despair, however things are, heaven forfend. And he said it this way: “Men tor zich nisht m’ya’esh zayn. Gevalt! Zayy aych nisht m’ya’esh!” [It is forbidden to despair! Oy! [or: Bloody murder!] Don’t despair!” And he really drew out the word “gevalt” as one who does who cautions and cries out from the heart’s depths. (Chayei Moharn 49)

The main thing is to encourage oneself in every way possible {for there is no such thing as despair! (What he said was: Kein yiush iz gor nit fahr-handin !) He drew out these words Kein yiush…, and said them emphatically and with very amazing and awesome depth, in order to instruct and hint to each and every person throughout the generations not to despair under any circumstances, no matter what happens to him.} And be what may, even if one has fallen to where he has fallen, God spare us, since he encourages himself with something, he still has hope of repenting and returning to God.(Likutei Moharan, Part II 78:7:1-3)

It is indeed important not to despair – but maybe it would be easier to remind ourselves to continue to have hope. That, as the midrash says – God does not want our sacrifices or our offerings – God wants us to have hope.

Managing our money according to Jewish Values

In September 2024, 52% adults reported an increase in their cost of living compared with the previous month. Of those whose cost of living increased, 92% said it was because food shopping had increased in price, while 68% said it was because gas and electricity bills had increased in price .
As providing for basic needs becomes ever more expensive, we become more aware of the necessity of managing our finances well.
Maybe Jewish tradition isn’t the first place we might look, but it is rich in models of financial prudence. Take Joseph, who manages in the seven good years to save enough to provide for the seven years of famine in Egypt. Or the Eshet Chayil , who among her many qualities is the economic force in her household, buying wool and linen to turn into garments she will then sell, considering a field before buying it, planting vineyards, bringing food from afar…”
Or Moses who makes a public accounting of all the donations used to build the Mishkan, proving that no money was used inappropriately or wastefully.
Rabbinic tradition too is replete with ideas about how we should approach our finances. Well aware of the deep relationship between material and spiritual wellbeing, the rabbis taught “Im ein kemach, ein Torah.. ” – without flour there is no Torah, without Torah there is no sustenance”
But once our needs are met, we must make financial decisions based on our values. Moses teaches “when you have eaten and been satisfied, beware lest you grow arrogant and say “my own activities made me wealthy”. and you forget God” . After death, the soul is asked several questions, including “were you honest in your business dealings? When we give tzedakah, we must give enough that the recipient can themselves give tzedakah.
Risk management is also considered – emulating Jacob who divided his camp before meeting Esau so as not to lose everything. Talmud quotes Rabbi Yitzchak: “A person should always divide money into three – a third each in land, commerce and cash”
How we manage our money speaks to our values. Talmud records Rav Elai “In three matters one’s true character is seen – in drink, in pocket (financial dealings) and in anger” But maybe it is the word for a coin “zuz” which gives the most important insight. Coming from a root meaning “to move”, we understand that acquiring and storing much money is not helpful to society. Money moves around from one person to another, and this helps each person to have enough, rather than wealth being an end in itself.
Written for “Leap of Faith” in the Jewish News

15th Elul: Which God do you not believe in?

Elul 15 23rd August

A discussion among my colleagues – “What does one say when someone says to you “Rabbi, I don’t believe in God””

One answer – “I always ask them which God they don’t believe in”.

My teacher Rabbi Dr Jonathan Magonet used to bemoan the fact that so many Jews give up serious Jewish education at bar/bat mitzvah. They had, he used to say, a thirteen year old god. And as they grew and matured, their idea of God was frozen in time, adolescent and unbelievable.

Jews are the people of Israel – literally the ones who struggle with God. We are not required (despite the Maimonidean doctrine) to believe in God. Indeed earliest rabbinic Judaism was not so much interested in what people believed about divinity, but talked instead about shared narratives. Slightly later we have the extraordinary rabbinic midrash on the verse in Jeremiah (16:11) “They have forsaken Me and not kept my Torah”   – “If only they had forsaken Me but kept my Torah!” (Pesikta d’Rav Kahana 5-7th Century)

Rabbinic Judaism is far more interested in how people behave, in the keeping of mitzvot, in action rather than in belief.

Since the giving of the Ten Commandments at Sinai on the way from slavery in Egypt to freedom in their ancestral land, Jews are a people who are commanded – who are under a chiyyuv, and obligation – and whose live are traditionally framed by the observance of mitzvot.

Of course the idea of commandments does somewhere require there to be a commander, but while we may have an historic metzaveh in our texts, the doing of mitzvot is in and of itself integral to our religious life. So for example Rabbi David Polish wrote that “When a Jew performs one of the many life acts known as mitzvot to remind themselves of the moments of encounter, what was only episodic becomes epochal, what was only a moment in Jewish history becomes eternal in Jewish life”[i]  His examples of the lighting of shabbat candles or of sitting at a Pesach seder are some of the examples he gives of our connecting with Jews across the world and across time.  The meaning and purpose of mitzvah for him is in part a way of sharing history and experiences across Jewish people hood, something that strengthens us in the world, and that momentarily allows us to transcend the mundane into the spiritual. 

There are many rabbinic names and descriptors for God. There are ways of understanding God not as a noun but as a verb – we are not tied to a thirteen year old god, some kind of supernatural being to whom we have to speak in stilted and formalised language. My very favourite name for God is “haMakom” – literally “the place”. Not a geographical location but a space where things can happen.

Israel – Jews – are named for struggling with God. Struggling with the ideas, the ethical demands, the behaviours that are required of us to be in covenant with God. The struggle is ongoing. If you find it hard to believe in the God of your childhood, then it is up to you to search the texts and find God with whom you can have a dialogue.


[i] ” Gates of Mitzvah: A Guide to the Jewish Life Cycle, ed. Simeon J. Maslin [New York: CCAR Press, 1979]