By Sivan Rahav Meir
Holiness in Unexpected Places
During a family trip to northern Israel recently, two images caught my attention. The
first was in Tzfat. We have all seen many moving and creative memorial projects, but
this was something new. At the entrance to a coffee shop stood an ordinary plastic-
bottle recycling bin bearing a sign: “Recycling station to fund a tefillin stand, in
memory of Staff Sgt. Uri Yitzchak Iluz.”
Beside it was the tefillin stand itself, already installed in his memory—presumably
funded, at least in part, by the bottles that had been collected for recycling. There
was no Chabad emissary stationed there. It was simply there, waiting for anyone
passing by who wanted to put on tefillin.
I went into the coffee shop, and the waiter, who had noticed me taking a picture,
said: “Bottles, tefillin, remembrance—it’s amazing how many good things you can do
all at once.”
The second image was in Or HaGanuz, a magical moshav in the Galilee. The
community was founded by Jews who were chozer b’teshuvah later in life, and they
live there cooperatively, almost like a kibbutz, guided by ideals of brotherhood and
unity.
Among other things, they run a winery. Their motto is: “Wine created out of love for
people, love for God, and love for wine.” Their wines carry a wide range of kosher
certifications, they explained, “to increase unity, so that everyone can drink them.”
At the entrance to the winery, I found a prayer engraved on a large wooden plaque:
“The Winemaker’s Prayer.” I learned that it was composed by Dr. Arkady Papikian
and Prof. Amos Hadas, two of Israel’s leading wine experts.
“We pray for our wine,” the people at the winery told me. “This is wine that will be
used for Kiddush, at the Seder table, and at seudot mitzvah throughout the Jewish
world. For us, this isn’t just a livelihood. It’s a mission.”
The prayer is remarkably detailed. It asks for blessing upon the wine itself, upon the
bacteria and yeast, upon the growers who tend the grapes, upon the wineries and
every stage of the process, “so that it may bring health and joy to all who drink it.”
Today Is Election Day!
“Today is the start of election season,” someone said to me this week with a smile. I
didn’t understand what he meant at first, but then I realized: Yes, today is the Rosh
Chodesh Elul.
This is indeed the start of a turbulent election season, but one that takes place inside
of us: What kind of Jew will we decide to be in the coming year? What will we decide
to change and improve? And also, how much effort will we exert to follow the
upcoming political season with all its surveys, commentaries, and “spins,” and how
much time we will devote to our own personal “elections,” dedicating ourselves to
refining our conduct and improving our character traits?
There are 40 days between the first day of Elul and Yom Kippur. This is the time for
our annual inspection test—not for our car, but for our soul. From time immemorial,
this has been the season in the Jewish year for “recalculating our route” and
recalibrating a spiritually healthy life balance.
Our sages teach us that the most practical way to achieve self-improvement is to
focus on one area of our lives that we would like to change, something small that we
would like to amend in the coming year. I invite you to consider what your own
personal area of focus will be.
Elul reminds us that our “votes” are not only cast once every four years in the
election booth, but at every moment of our lives— in our daily behavior, our
attempts to grow stronger, and in every decision that we make, from the most
important to the least significant, including those seemingly insignificant decisions
that we hardly pay attention to.
To Return—Inward!
During the month of Elul, there is a lot of discussion about repentance. The Hebrew
word for repentance is “teshuva,” but what does that actually mean?
This week, on the third of Elul, we commemorated the yahrzeit of Rav Avraham
Yitzchak HaKohen Kook. Rav Kook wrote a beautiful definition of the teshuva
process:
“The primary teshuva, that which immediately lights up the darkness, is when a
person returns to himself, to the root of his soul. Then he will immediately return to
God, to the Soul of all souls.”
At times, the external circumstances and turmoil of our lives obscure the essence of
who we really are, and who we have the potential to become. These external factors
cause us to become confused and act in ways that are beneath us.
Rav Kook says that teshuva is the process of turning inward, returning to our true
selves. When we do that we remember that we are all created in the image of God;
in other words, that God is the root and the source of who we are. We belong to Him
and desire to live according to His will and to fulfill the mission He designated for us
in this world.
Rav Kook explains that the teshuva process is intended not only for individuals but
also for the collective: the Jewish people and the entire world need to return to their
true essence, to what they were meant to be.
Bring Every Moment to Life!
Do we appreciate our time enough?
In last week’s Torah portion, we read about a person who kills someone
unintentionally—a death caused by accident, without any intent to harm.
Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk, one of the great Chassidic masters, offers a striking
interpretation. When a person neglects what truly matters in life, when he wastes
his time, he is in a sense unintentionally “killing” the life he has been given. Instead
of making each moment count, he creates more and more “dead” moments, time
that passes without being put to good use.
But the opposite is also true. When we devote our time to what is meaningful and
worthwhile, we add life to our lives. We bring the time we have been given to life.
We often speak about the mitzvot bein adam laMakom, and about those bein adam
l’chaveiro. Perhaps we also need to think about bein adam l’zmano, our relationship
with our time. And maybe, these days, even bein adam l’machshiro, our relationship
with our devices!
How much time disappears into scrolling and staring at a screen almost without our
noticing, only to realize afterward that we have squandered something precious?
Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk calls on us, especially during the month of Elul, to
become more aware of our time. At every moment, we are choosing anew whether
to “kill” time God forbid, or to bring it to life.
May we merit to use our time well, filling it with light, abundance, and holiness!
Translated by Yehoshua Siskin and Janine Muller Sherr
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