Summer - Flipbook - Page 7
RABBI SHARYN PERLMAN
TORAH FOR THE HEART
An Old Friend Brings the Gift of Hope
Shalom, Friends.
We are in the month of Elul, the last month of the Hebrew year, whose 29 days escort us to the High Holy Day
season.
Elul whets our appetite for the Days of Awe by providing us with two important mitzvot: The first is hearing the shofar.
Every morning, except on Shabbat, the cries of the shofar pierce the air, and are also intended to pierce our souls. The
shofar reminds us to look inward, to go deep, and reflect honestly on the past year – with all its attendant highs and
lows.
The second mitzvah is reciting Psalm 27, often referred to as the Penitential Psalm. We say Psalm 27 every day – in
the morning, during Shacharit, and again in the evening during Maariv. Twice a day. Every day. For 50 days. From the first
of Elul through Shemini Atzeret.
On the first day of Elul, the cries of the shofar have a visceral effect on me – the sounds go straight to some primal
area in my kishkes. I’m transported back to when I was a little girl, sitting in shul with my father, as he picks me up so I
can not only hear the shofar, but see it too.
But I experience a very different feeling the first time I read Psalm 27 each year – I feel as if an old friend has returned
from a long voyage, bringing with it the gift of hope. I savor the words, both the Hebrew and the English. Because Psalm
27 is a prayer that captures every theme of the High Holy Days.
Psalm 27 reflects the spiritual struggle that many of us have – a heart that sings and weeps, the spiritual wrestling
between faith and doubt. Psalm 27 vacillates between doubt and hope in a very real way, a way that reflects our human
condition. Psalm 27 knows our pain and our joy. It knows when we praise God because we believe, and when we praise
God because we’re trying to believe. It chokes on fear, yet sings with hope.
The Rabbis teach that during Elul, God wants to be close to us, and invites us in. God lovingly opens God’s arms and
says to us:
