Tishrei 5785 (October 1, 2024)

Arriving in Tishrei

It doesn't matter how much planning and centering I do during Elul, Tishrei always arrives in a flurry. This year, the High Holy Days are "late" — of course, they fall exactly when they always do according to the Hebrew calendar — but they are later than usual in the Gregorian calendar. Four years ago, my first year as staff at Vanderbilt Hillel, I offered a D'var Torah on the significance of arriving “on time.” I'm thinking this year about how this spiritual version of arriving requires deep analysis of ourselves and the world around us, even when that feels overwhelming, and even if it's later than might be ideal.

I've Fallen Short

This year, balancing my grief and fear for those caught in war with my own cultural and emotional ties has been a struggle. It’s challenging to hold space for multiple truths, especially in a world that seems polarized into absolutes, and especially especially when my heart feels more connected to some truths than others.

Looking back on the past year, I am really feeling the weight of all the times I didn’t show up in the ways I wish I had. There are moments I’m ashamed of, ways I didn’t do my best, and times when I failed to extend care in the way I feel I "should." I try to live by a piece of advice my Dad gave me almost eight years ago: act today in a way you’ll be proud of tomorrow. That’s especially hard to uphold when I'm in fight-or-flight mode, which it feels like I've been in for a year.

We’ve all witnessed the escalating violence and conflict around us since last Simchat Torah and the October 7 massacre, and the war Israel has waged on Gaza since. It’s difficult to hold everyone's pain and grief simultaneously; the immense suffering on all sides, the trauma response stemming from deep historical wounds and collective memory, and the never-ending barrage of violence. This year, teshuvah feel like more than a personal journey; it reflects a communal need for repair.

Tishrei calls us to look inward, not just at how we’ve been hurt (which many of us seem to be focused on this year) but also at how we’ve failed to care for others. How have we allowed ourselves to become numb to the suffering of those we don’t know personally? Where have fear, anger, or indifference guided us instead of compassion? In a world that feels increasingly divided, these questions feel particularly urgent.

Return Again... 

The beauty of teshuvah lies in its promise of return, even when we’ve strayed far. It’s not about perfection; it’s about acknowledging our shortcomings and choosing to improve. In her book, On Repentance and Repair (which I highly recommend reading if you haven't yet), Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg writes that true accountability involves: naming harm, initiating change, and accepting consequences for ourselves and our community. She connects this with Maimonides' stages of repentence, and offers a contemporary framework for accountability and healing. 

This process is not easy; it requires a lot of vulnerability and hard work. When we recite the Vidui on Yom Kippur, we acknowledge our collective failures. We say Ashamnu "we have sinned" because all of our actions affect the world (hi The Good Place). Jewish wisdom demands we take stock of the ways we've fallen short, both as individuals and in community.

This year, I want to approach Tishrei with grace for myself and others. Teshuvah isn’t supposed to be about perfection, but actually is supposed to represent a return to our values and our truest self, however messy that process may be. We don’t need all the answers, but we do need to show up and keep trying.

As we reflect, repent, and try to repair, I am grappling with holding multiple truths. How do we embrace grief and joy, personal growth and communal responsibility? This year, my teshuvah is about balancing these tensions — showing up more in my relationships, holding the world in all it's complexity, and increasing my compassion both to myself and others. I hope to move through this new year with openness, care, and the grace to act in alignment with my values while also not being brash.

Tishrei reminds us that, no matter how far we’ve strayed, we can always return, to our best selves and to repairing what’s broken. As we dip our apples in honey and welcome the new year, may we enter this time with open hearts and a renewed commitment to healing.

Chodesh Tov and Shanah Tova! May this month of Tishrei and the year 5785 bring healing, growth, and new beginnings for us all.