I think of Elul as the on-ramp to the High Holidays.
You don’t just wake up on Rosh Hashanah morning suddenly ready for the spiritual weight of the days ahead. At least I don’t. I need time to get there. I need time to get my body, my mind and my heart into a different place.
That is what Elul does for me.
It is a month of reflection, but I don’t think reflection always has to mean sitting quietly somewhere thinking deep thoughts. Sometimes reflection happens when we simply stop long enough to notice what is around us.
During Elul we traditionally recite Achat Sha’alti
“One thing I ask of G!D, only that do I seek… to gaze upon the beauty of G!D.” Psalm 27:4.
That idea of looking for beauty is where Elul begins to make sense to me.
Where do I find that beauty? Where do I find that place that makes my heart stop for a moment and reminds me that I am part of something much bigger than myself?
I find it in the mountains, I find it in the waves lapping against the sand, I find it in a gorgeous sunset, when the sky suddenly becomes so spectacular that all you can really do is stop and look.
I find it in those moments when the world around me is so beautiful that I am reminded of how very small I am. And I actually like being reminded of that. There is something comforting about realizing that I am one tiny person standing in this enormous, magnificent world. My problems are still my problems. My worries don’t magically disappear. But for a moment they take their proper place in something much larger.
Psalm 27 speaks directly to that feeling. It doesn’t only speak about seeking G!d. It speaks about seeking beauty. Later, the Psalmist says,
“I would see the goodness of G!D in the land of the living.”
In the land of the living. Here. In this world. In the world that is right in front of us. That speaks to me.
For me, Elul is about becoming aware of that again. It is about slowing down enough to see what I sometimes rush past during the rest of the year. The mountains are still there. The ocean is still there. The sun is still setting. The beauty hasn’t disappeared. Sometimes I have simply stopped noticing it.
And perhaps that is why Psalm 27 belongs so beautifully in Elul. The custom of reciting it begins with Rosh Chodesh Elul and carries us toward and through the High Holiday season. It becomes part of that on-ramp, something familiar that gently tells us that we are getting closer.
Closer to Rosh Hashanah, closer to Yom Kippur, and closer to that time when we stand together and think about the year that has passed and the year that is about to begin.
I love that Elul gives us an entire month to get there. No switch has to be flipped. No great spiritual revelation has to happen. We just start moving.
For me, that movement happens when I pay attention to the beauty around me. When I stand in front of a mountain. When I listen to the ocean. When I watch the colors of a gorgeous sunset. When I look at this extraordinary world and remember both how magnificent it is and how small I am within it.
That is where I find my place. That is where I find my heart. And that is my Elul. The on-ramp that slowly carries me toward the High Holidays, toward a new year, where the beautiful cycle begins again.