Before Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year) the principal of my seminary gave a lecture on what the holidays in Elul (the Jewish month) mean in the form of an allegory. He said, "Imagine you and your mother got into a terrible argument...
"After the argument you storm out of the house in a burst of fury, and unlike all the other times- you vow not to speak to her again. And unlike all the other times, you keep your vow of silence and find that five/ten years down the road you haven't spoken. In this time, you get married and have a few good kids and one day you wake up and realize where your mother was coming from, now that you find yourself in her position. You get up the nerve and you call her.
"Girl's," he broke the allegory, "what are the first two word's you'd say?" After someone suggested I'm sorry, he continued: "I'm sorry? You haven't talked to her in five/ten years and you think you going to bring up what the argument was to rehash old wounds in the first two words?!
"You would dial her number and wait anxiously as the dial tone goes bring, bring, bring. And when you hear hello, who is this from your mother's voice your going to say, "Hi mom." Once you say these first two words, you will both start bawling.
"So this is what Rosh Hashana is- it's "Hi mom." Except in this instance it's your parent in heaven, Hashem. And on Rosh Hashana we tell Hashem, Hi, I want a relationship. But first you pick up the phone with a clean slate and with the past behind you.
"And then, maybe after an extended period of time of being on your best behavior, you may finally bring up the original argument and apologize for whatever it is that made you storm out of your parent's lives. This is the idea of Yom Kippur, where we tell Gd that we are sorry and that we're going to do it better this time." And the Rabbi paused, "Even if it's only small baby steps."
This imagery of arguing with your actual parents doesn't escape most teenagers, like myself. So after listening to the Rabbi's allegory, I had a new appreciation for the holidays where I may have not before. Guilt-ridden and nervous for Judgement Day, most people (even religious Jew, even Jews who had been religious all their life) come to Gd in fear thinking that they will be smote on the spot for every sin they have committed over the year (and from my bucket-list, that's a whole lot!). Instead I think I'm prepared for Yom Kippur in a new and more enlightening way than in past years. In the past, I figured Yom Kippur was the penance for being a non-Jewish Jew and that once the fasting and 8-hour service were over I had paid my dues. Now, it has become less torturous and more meaningful, in that instead of looking at it as a day of teshuva (most often translated as repentance), I look at it as a day of true teshuva (lit. "returning" to an estranged parent, which through error, I had lost contact).
I hope if you celebrate Elul (the month of teshuva [read: returning]), and Rosh Hashana, and Yom Kippur, you get back on the right path and find yourself starting with a brand new slate for your brand new year. But before I say my parting words, I'd like to mention the best part of this month. At the end of Elul there is another holiday called Sukkos (the holiday of Booths). We set up booths (you guessed it!) and this symbolized Gd protecting us in the desert as we left slavery in Mitzrayim (Egypt). But fitting in with the allegory from before, another teacher had mentioned today a fitting fact. In order to have a "kosher sukkah" (a proper booth), it needs to have two complete walls and a third of at least a hand-breath size. If you draw it out, it looks like a bent arm. "Sort of like," my teacher mentioned, "how a mother cradles her baby in her arms." On Sukkos, Hashem is telling you, "come home." And like most parents... I don't think he minds how long it's been since you've been back last.
May this New Year find you peace. May this Yom Kippur find you peace of mind. And may this Sukkos fill you with Shalom Bais (peace of the home).
excellent!
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