BOSTON — Indian Summer teases us this time of year. These are the glorious afternoons of September when time seems to stand still. The sun brings an unexpected warmth, allowing us to spend precious hours outdoors. Yet the morning dew reminds us of the coming change. Night comes sooner than we expect.
Through the month of Elul, a deeper introspection begins. And with it, old customs, such as visiting our departed family members in the cemetery. Our prayers soothe the soul; we speak to graves and hold conversations with people we loved and adored. There are tears and there is a hope that our words are heard. Upon leaving, we notice the finality of the previous year for some longtime friends. Their names have been freshly engraved. They didn’t make it into the Book of Life.
As Elul departs, the Days of Awe arrive, and we finally empty our thoughts. What was it that kept our intellect engaged this past year? Professional goals? Projects? Quality family time? Did we use our days and nights properly to make a contribution to this earth?
Now, we sift through the months looking for little nuggets of truth and growth. For most, there are achievements and shortcomings, good deeds and transgressions, joys and worries. They are strung-together thoughts and concepts that either found completion or were left for another day. We reflect upon them and contemplate their overall importance and meaning. The dualism we may find is astonishing; only as individuals can we judge the impact the year has had on our lives.
And, on the lives of others. Our memories and perceptions of conversations are just that — imperfect and subject to our own interpretation. Since most of our time was spent communicating, we should take stock of our own words. What did we say? Did we use words to help create a better world or just to manipulate our world? Did we listen to others or were our conversations just a platform to voice our own opinions?
In traditional Judaism, we are judged during the Ten Days of Awe. In this pluralistic society where social justice programs are the moral equivalent of tikkun olam, judgment runs contrary to popular culture. For many Jews, it can be confusing, this business about being inscribed into the Book of Life. But whether American Jews believe it or not, they take the days seriously enough to return to synagogue en masse on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
In the impressive, filled sanctuaries of America next week, Jews will talk directly to God. We’ll pick up a prayerbook and follow along, all the while taking note of our lives over the past year. People who don’t realize they’re spiritual will have profound experiences. They will begin the new year with a fresh outlook on life.
But for every person who has a mystical experience, there are at least a dozen who don’t. Praying hard or meditating is simply not for everyone. Focusing on one’s self is like treading into uncharted waters. The bridge between introspection and acknowledgment is narrow, and forced self-actualization doesn’t work. It’s not always magical.
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are holidays that help define one’s mission in life. If we act upon our own introspection, our insights can carry us through the darkness of the winter, and into the hope of the spring and through the summer. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need the High Holy Days to serve as a wake-up call. But in this world, they can at least start the process of beginning anew. It’s up to us to follow through on what we need to do. And, fortunately, as long as we’re alive, we’re allowed that opportunity every day.