By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
We all say “Shanah Tovah” around Rosh Hashanah, and we all say “Happy new year” around January 1st. But they do not mean the same thing.
“Shanah Tovah” means “Have a good year.” And “good” does not always mean “happy.”
Of course I wish we all do have a happy 5785, but that feels out of touch right now. With the horrors of October 7th fresh in our minds; antisemitism incidents at record numbers; the plight of the hostages still in Gaza pressing down on our hearts; and the uncertainty of Israel’s immediate future because of what is happening in Lebanon, this is decidedly not a happy time for the Jewish people. And yet we will gather soon as families and a Beth El community to celebrate the new year with its renewed potential. And we should still say “Shanah Tovah” with conviction.
“Shanah Tovah” means “Have a good year.” And “Tovah/good” takes us to the beginning of Genesis, when G-d creates the world and sees each feature as “Tov/good.” In fact, there is actually one day when G-d creates something and does not declare it to be “good.” The second day is when G-d creates the firmament, the atmosphere that divides the lower waters from the upper. Something about that does not merit the appellation “G-d saw that it was good.”
We keep reading and see that the phrase “G-d saw that it was good” then appears twice on the third day, when G-d gathered the lower waters into oceans and later created seed bearing fruit. What accounts for this unique placement?
The Etz Hayim Humash cites Rashi and shares: “The Sages explain this as due to the act of separation on that day, which may be necessary but is never wholly good…” In other words, what is “good” for the Torah is when an action is complete and makes whole. Division is the opposite.
In this light, we should each wish each other a “Shanah Tovah,” a year when we become more whole, more united, and more complete. May 5785 bring such blessings to all of us.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
In parashat Nitzavim, we read the following in Deuteronomy 29:28: “Concealed acts, hanistarot, concern the Lord our God; but with overt acts, haniglot, it is for us and our children, Lanu ul’vaneinu, ever to apply all the provisions of this Teaching, HaTorah hazot.” In the context of our parasha, hanistarot and haniglot are acts understood as concealed sins and revealed sins, respectively.
Rashi explains that the concealed or hidden things are between us and God, but the overt or revealed ones have greater potential to affect others. In other words, Kol Yisrael aravim ze bazeh: All Jews are responsible for one another.
Another commentator, the Netziv, explains that this verse is letting us know what our job is to understand about the world. The “hidden things” are the reasons God knows for why things happen, and it’s not our job to worry about those things.
When thinking about this idea of “hidden things,” I am also reminded of Psalm 81:4, the Psalm for Thursday: “Sound the shofar on the New Moon, the festival day when the moon is hidden.” We say these words in the Rosh Hashana Ma’ariv service. This imagery evokes our senses: what is missing in our sight is celebrated with the very audible primal sounding of the ancient shofar, a sound that we’ve been hearing each morning of this final month of 5784.
This announcement during Elul wakes us up each morning, hopefully driving the hidden personal goals within each of us to be revealed by the actions we take. The shofar reminds us that we are accountable to ourselves, a private agreement within each of us, but also to others, in the public ways we act in the world.
May that wake up call drive each of us to make this new year better for us as individuals and for all of us as a community.
Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
In the sixth Haftarah of consolation one of the primary themes is light. It begins,
ק֥וּמִי א֖וֹרִי כִּ֣י בָ֣א אוֹרֵ֑ךְ וּכְב֥וֹד ה’ עָלַ֥יִךְ זָרָֽח׃
“Kumi, ori, ki va oreich; u-chevod Hashem, alayich zarach.”
“Arise, shine, for your light has dawned; The Presence of God has shone upon you!” To paraphrase the next verse or so, Isaiah prophesies a time when the world will be covered in darkness, but the nations of the world will walk by our light, which is a reflection of God’s light.
Later in the haftarah, Isaiah 60:19 further inspires us, “No longer shall you need the sun for light by day, nor the shining of the moon for radiance [by night]; For HaShem shall be your light everlasting.”
I’ve been reflecting in Elul as one ought to do. I’ve been working hard to prepare [professionally] for the High Holidays while also being sure to prepare [personally] for the High Holidays. In my daily journaling, one thing I’m coming to terms with is how hard things often seem to be. All year has been trauma after trigger after tragedy since October 7, and the world does seem to be covered in darkness. And what’s worse, I’m not sure I’ve fully processed the Pandemic and all the emotional baggage incurred then. And on top of those two major historic, communal traumas, I am not immune to my own personal challenges. And I know that’s true in varying degrees for us all.
So when do we get to the comforting light Isaiah described? How do we shine? It’s right there in the first verse. Our light has dawned, and it is a reflection of the Presence of God shone upon us. One of my Elul journaling prompts, from Rabbi Simon Jacobson’s “60 Days” noted the connection between the Hebrew word for face (Panim) and innermost (p’nimi). We might ordinarily think of a face as being the outside, surface level. But our faces are the reflection and gateway to our innermost selves. When we allow ourselves to live authentically, albeit vulnerable at times, we let the light of our souls shine through. Our smile and our words come from the mouth. Our eyes can smile too, and our tears can make our eyes shimmer. Our ears that listen deeply demonstrate our presence with each other. Even our cheeks can glow or blush letting some of our innermost self be on the surface.
I think that’s the idea. For this High Holiday season, we need to return to ourselves. We must find ways to express the innermost holiness and light that is uniquely ours, and is a reflection of God’s presence. We need to live into, and up to our humanness – which is flawed, but also the best representation of God’s divine image in this world. We need to act with integrity, and honesty so that our light can shine forth a path through the darkness. It is that eternal light in our soul which can never be extinguished.
And one last thought: If you need a reminder of your shining light between now and the next time we read Ki Tavo, look no further than Kabbalat Shabbat.. In the 5th verse of Lecha Dodi, we sing “Hitoreri, hitoreri, ki va oreich kumi ori!” a reference to this very passage and weekly affirmation that our light has shined, we must arise and shine it.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
We are just a few weeks away from October 7th, 2024, which will mark a full year since that awful day. For me, it feels like both a short time and a long time ago.
Of course we will mark that important day as a community. It’s important for us to do so as a larger Chicago Jewish community, as well as a Beth El synagogue community. And it is vital to commemorate both the English anniversary, Monday, October 7th, as well as the Hebrew anniversary, the holiday of Simchat Torah.
To that end, we will commemorate both occasions. On Monday, October 7th, we encourage our shul community to tune into a special JUF memorial event featuring Chicago Jewish community leaders, including Rabbi Schwab and Hazzan Sandler. Seats are no longer available, but we can all view the livestream. That same evening at Beth El following 7:30 pm Minyan, we will also have a brief ceremony for those of us in the building.
The evening and morning of Simchat Torah will be the time that our Beth El community does something special in house. A few months ago, congregant Marissa Rosenberg approached me and asked if we could participate in an international commemoration called The Simchat Torah Project. The idea behind it is to use a new Torah cover for Simchat Torah dedicated to one of the victims of October 7th. In this way we will “dance with tears” and strike an impossible balance between honoring the sadness of October 7th while still enabling the joy of Simchat Torah, a deep Simcha that should not be diminished. We accepted.
Just last week another congregant, Allison Nemirow, flew to Israel to participate in this project, along with participants from many parts of the world. She was there to bear witness to the devastation of October 7th, meet families of the victims, attend the Shiva for Hersh Goldberg-Polin Z”L, and receive our unique Torah cover. She did so and shared her poignant reflections in last week’s Shabbat sermon. She also printed out photos from her trip, which are kept in the binder on the table dedicated to the hostages. Allison displayed the beautiful Torah cover and shared that it is dedicated to Aner Shapira Z”L, best friend of Hersh, who fell in combat while defending innocents at the Nova Music Festival. Grenade after grenade was lobbed into the small shelter where he and others were hiding, and he heroically threw out seven before the next one exploded, tragically killing him. It is Aner’s name that will be on the Beth El Torah cover.
On Simchat Torah, we will use this Torah cover for the first time, remember the destruction of October 7th, and tell the story of Aner. We will do so before a special Hakafa, circuit, dedicated to the victims. And then we will dance with tears in our eyes. Because the joy of Simchat Torah is a deep Jewish joy that must never be extinguished.
In Israel, Allison was on the ground for Hersh’s Shiva and shared with his parents that all of us Beth El had him in our hearts and send them so much love. It brings me comfort knowing that one of us from Highland Park was able to be there on our behalf.
Marissa is organizing a second project where each of us can send the Goldberg-Polin Family a note. She will turn them into a display that will contain many brief handwritten notes to the family, similar to the small prayer notes deposited in the Kotel. Please participate by taking one of these special papers from the synagogue office and leaving it there by October 4th. The “wall” will be framed and shipped to Israel upon completion.
Please join our community at these two important events marking one year since October 7th.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
In this most famous verse from parashat Shoftim, despite the doubling of the word “Tzedek,” no word is extraneous in the Torah. This phrase is understood to mean that we should work so hard to create justice that it is as if we are chasing after it. I think that it is fair to say that of all moments in Jewish history, the pursuit of justice has new meaning this week, this month, this year.
Tzedek: On the secular calendar, this Shabbat, September 7th, marks 11 months since the unjust war broke out against our Israeli family and friends, and by ripple effect, against Jews worldwide. We have nearly circled the sun, and yet so many lives have been cut short since that horrific day. Where is the tzedek in this tragedy? When will justice prevail and evil surrender?
Tzedek: And where is the justice in the most recent events of this past week, that 6 more innocent souls were murdered on the cusp of this marking of 11 months since last Simchat Torah? How is it that the most vocal English-speaking Israeli parent of one of these beautiful souls, who has been actively advocating for and pursuing justice fighting for freedom for her son and for ALL of the hostages, has now laid her only son to rest?
Tirdof: How can we continue to help in the pursuit of freedom and justice for all who are still captive? What forms of Tzedek and Tzedaka are you able to give of your time and resources? It is unimaginable that our Tzedaka is still needed in this darkest 11th hour, as we begin the 12th month of this war.
God willing THIS will be the month in which this war ends and our Tzedaka, our righteous gifts toward Medinat Yisrael and Am Yisrael will actually pay off.
As we hear the shofar each morning of this month of Elul, may its primal cry usher in justice for all, an end to this war, and the reunion of families so that perhaps, bizman karov, soon, our people, our family, will only know peace.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
Do you believe in free will for human beings? Or are you more inclined to believe in predeterminism? How does destiny or fate play into the choices we appear to make? And how do we square that with our conception of God? If everything is fated, to what extent can we be held accountable to our choices?
Are these questions racking your brain? Or are they platitudinous cliches for some philosopher to struggle with while you tend to practical matters?
As we continue to move through the period between Tisha B’Av and the High Holy Days, we’re encouraged to reflect on these questions. Accountability to our actions is a key ingredient in teshuva and forgiveness. Yet, God is the supreme power in the universe. Annually we rely “not on our own merit, but on God’s great mercy” for that forgiveness.
In this week’s parasha we are offered a choice:
רְאֵ֗ה אָנֹכִ֛י נֹתֵ֥ן לִפְנֵיכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה׃
“See, this day I set before you blessing and curse: blessing, if you obey the commandments of your God that I enjoin upon you this day; and curse, if you do not obey the commandments of your God, but turn away from the path that I enjoin upon you this day and follow other gods, whom you have not experienced.”
The choice is obvious, right? Obviously, I’m going for blessing over curse every time! Yet, I know that all of us struggle to obey every one of God’s commandments all the time, every day. Sometimes it’s not that simple.
I saw a TikTok user arguing against free will and their best two arguments were:
I didn’t choose to want what I want. I chose only how to act, informed by that desire or taste. And I didn’t choose the choices. I also don’t have any real choice about the consequences. So if I’m not free to choose the circumstance or the consequence, what am I responsible for? Simply the action I choose to take.
I do still believe that, even with this narrowly free will, I am accountable to my choices. Because, as human beings, we have the imaginative faculty that helps us empathize with those impacted by our choices, predict plausible outcomes, and learn from past experiences. We also have the gift of Torah and millenia of wisdom that suggests best practices for making choices that will lead toward the ultimate good.
I didn’t choose the choice between blessing and curse, nor did I choose the commandments, but I can choose how I’m going to act, and what I’m going to strive for. In fact, the sages suggest that true inner strength is the ability to overcome one’s inclinations to do good.
And where does God’s providence factor into this? What choices does God get to make? All of it is interconnected. Aryeh Kaplan gives the analogy of a computer system. It is dynamic.
“God’s providential direction of the universes never ceases. He is always acting in the world, guiding events based on our actions. In effect, therefore, this is a “two-way” process with a built-in feedback loop to allow for changes in programming. On the one hand, God is directing an ongoing input into the universe, regardless of our actions. On the other hand, God looks at what we do, judges it, and puts into the universe what He decides is appropriate relative to what we do.”
Kaplan describes an automated traffic system, which might detect a major back up and close down a bridge. Those on the bridge see the catastrophe, but have no inside knowledge of the context which caused the bridge closure. Similarly, the output we see in our world might seem to be terrible at times – and, in fact, it is. However, it may be in response to other inputs of which we’re not aware. I wouldn’t suggest sharing this to someone in the midst of a crisis, but it could be a useful framework for recognizing how intricate the ‘math’ of the moral universe would have to be. I, for one, am glad to leave that computing to God.
More importantly, perfecting the world is actually our human responsibility. And it is our choices, collectively, that either help lead the world toward that perfection, or slow it down. And this doesn’t remove God from the process either. Kaplan writes, “Although He gave individuals free will, He still influences the large scale course of history. Even though He does not determine the conduct of individuals, the collective wills of nations and societies are largely determined by God…God also guides the destiny of each individual to fulfill His purpose. Man might have free will, but God interacts with him to bring about His goal.”
And regarding the fate or destiny of the world, Kaplan shares, “God’s overall plan is to bring mankind to an ultimate perfection. Nothing can prevent this. It is, however, in man’s hands to decide how we will reach the goal.”
If at this point, you’re wondering if we have any choice at all, or if it matters, I’ll conclude with one last analogy. Do you remember those choose-your-own-adventure books? You didn’t get to choose the first page, the last page, or any pages in between. But you got to choose how you went through the story, and in many cases the individual story’s ending depended on those choices.There were many paths to only a few destinations. In the grand scheme of history, our small choices might seem insignificant. But the more we choose blessing, the more good we choose to put into the world, the more good and blessing there will be. Period. And since few, if any, of us will be here for the ultimate end, we must make choices that help bend the arc of our portion of the universe toward justice, toward good, toward blessing. Behold, God has set before us the choice – what will you choose?
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
Parashat Bamidbar is usually read on the Shabbat before Shavuot, as it was this year. The sages connect these because Bamidbar literally means “in the wilderness.” And as we know, our ancestors wandered through the wilderness on their journey, from entering the land of Cana’an as a newly freed people, to Har Sinai, where Moshe revealed God’s Torah to them.
Parashat Naso, this week’s portion, therefore usually is read on the Shabbat following Shavuot, as it is this year. One of the greatest highlights of Naso is the priestly blessing, Birkat Kohanim. Also known as the threefold blessing, this ancient blessing was recited by the kohanim twice a day in the Beit haMikdash in Jerusalem while standing on a special platform known as a duchan…hence the origins of this practice being referred to as “duchening.”
From Num. 6:24-26, this ancient blessing reads as follows:
The LORD bless you and protect you!
The LORD deal kindly and graciously with you!
The LORD bestow God’s favor upon you and grant you peace!
These holy words fall at the very center of the longest parasha in the Torah, Naso. Within the three lines, we find 6 powerful requests of God upon us: to be blessed; to be protected; to deal with us kindly; and graciously; to be bestowed with God’s favor; to be granted with peace.
When reflecting on the power of these holy words, the link that I see between Shavuot and Naso is our desire to help create the ideal holy relationship with God. After all, Shavuot celebrates the brit, the covenant, between God and the B’nai Israel. We are familiar with the golden rule from the holiness code in Vayikra: V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha; love your neighbor as yourself. In a way, this priestly blessing from our parasha is in partnership with this biblical understanding of how we should act in the world, to be holy, to bring more holiness to the world through our human interactions. We hope that, by trying our best to love ourselves and others, God will grant us these gifts outlined in this ancient blessing.
The golden rule is at the center of Vayikra, right in the middle of the Torah.
The priestly blessing falls in the very middle of Naso.
The Torah is ideally at the heart of our lives.
As we journey from Shavuot to Naso this week, may we be reminded of the strength of God’s words in our lives, of the centrality of the gift of the Torah, the gift that keeps on giving. May our actions and the blessings within these five holy books bring us blessing, protection, kindness, graciousness, divine love, and peace.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
The Haftarah for Bamidbar comes to us from Hosea. Hosea prophesied in the 8th century BCE in the Northern Kingdom of Israel. Hosea was a contemporary of Isaiah and Amos in Judah. Similar to his predecessor in the North, Elijah, Hosea was deeply disturbed by the worship of Canaanite gods, like Baal.
Elijah, we may recall, challenged King Ahab and the prophets of Baal and won over the people. But let’s face it: sometimes being Jewish can be hard and other practices can look so enticing…
Who among us hasn’t felt the FOMO (fear of missing out) of an amazing concert on a Friday night, or smelled crispy bacon and wondered if it was as good as the hype? Or maybe you were one of those kids who envied the Xbox your friend got for Christmas, while you got 8 presents each ⅛ the cost — a pair of socks, or a board game you had to share with your siblings… Perhaps you’ve found that eastern meditation and yoga are more spiritually exciting than your last Kol Nidrei experience. Or in recent months, it might just feel like being Jewish comes at such a high cost.
But Hosea presents a bold, challenging, yet beautiful metaphor. The inspiration for Rabbinic interpretation of Song of Songs, is Hosea’s portrayal of God as a husband to the People of Israel, God’s consecrated wife. While Song of Songs reveals the young, new love between God and the Jews, Hosea is charged to call out the Israelites for their Idolatry, which is likened to adultery.
But it’s a powerful image. The Torah is a ketubah – a written covenant and the ultimate expression of God’s ahava rabah/ahavat olam – God’s eternal great love for us. Our love languages are words of praise – prayer, psalms, hymns, quality time – observing Shabbat and festivals, exchanging gifts – korbanot from us, the new grain and oil from God, acts of service – the mitzvot and God’s protection, and perhaps the physical touch of tzitzit to our lips and a tallit around our shoulders like a kiss and hug – the warm embrace of God whose love is represented by the Torah and mitzvot symbolized in that very tallit.
It’s so romantic. But Hosea’s prophecy is pointed, harsh and critical. The Israelites are called a harlot, “because she thought, ‘I will go after my lovers, who supply my bread and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink” (Hosea 2:7). And putting aside the overt anthropomorphization that is required for the character of God to function, God is distraught. To be betrayed in this way by God’s own beloved. What would any person feel? Unfortunately I know people who have been cheated on in this way. Some report deep anger, resentment and pain. Their emotions reflected in God’s own response: “I will hedge up her roads with thorns and raise walls against her, and she shall not find her paths.”(Hosea 2:8) or “I will take back My new grain in its time and My new wine in its season, and I will snatch away My wool and My linen that serve to cover her nakedness.” (Hosea 2:11) God is like the betrayed who kicks the unfaithful partner out of the house, and takes back his sweatshirt and that tupperware he lent her. Some, in their anger, will lash out and hope that she and her lover will be punished. “And I will end all her rejoicing: Her festivals, new moons and sabbaths–all her festive seasons.” (Hosea 2:13).
But I’ve also known those who, despite this betrayal, remain in touch with the deep love which is the foundation of the deep pain. They’ve expressed a desire to work through the infidelity, to understand what it was about their relationship which was so broken it could result in such an act. They’ve sought help to move past this painful moment, because after all, they still love their partner. If their partner can renew the covenant of their love, and show real repentance, perhaps the betrayed can still take back their lover.
And Hosea expresses this hope too, on behalf of God to the people. God seeks to be a better partner as in Hosea 2:16-17, “I will speak to her tenderly. I will give her her vineyards from there, and the Valley of Achor as a plowland of hope.” Poetically, God says, “You will call [Me] Ishi (my husband), and no more will you call Me Baali (my master)” Baali also is a play on the name Baal of the Canaanite god, so it works on a lot of levels.
God promises to take back the people, in love, saying, “I will espouse you forever; I will espouse you with righteousness and justice, and with goodness and mercy. And I will espouse you with faithfulness; then you shall be devoted to Hashem.” (Hosea 2:21-22).
וְאֵרַשְׂתִּ֥יךְ לִ֖י לְעוֹלָ֑ם וְאֵרַשְׂתִּ֥יךְ לִי֙ בְּצֶ֣דֶק וּבְמִשְׁפָּ֔ט וּבְחֶ֖סֶד וּֽבְרַחֲמִֽים׃
וְאֵרַשְׂתִּ֥יךְ לִ֖י בֶּאֱמוּנָ֑ה וְיָדַ֖עַתְּ אֶת־יְהֹוָֽה׃
Those last two verses of our haftarah we say as we wrap the tefillin around our fingers, like a wedding ring between us and God. The dowry of our new relationship is not financial but paid in Tzedek, Mishpat, Chesed and Rachamim – righteousness, justice, loving kindness and mercy. And with faithfulness, emunah. Then you shall be ‘devoted’ – literally V’yada’at – to know Hashem, and yes this can be taken in the biblical sense.
Our haftarah reminds us that our practices, our traditions, rites and rituals are not to be spurned. We should learn from other cultures and be worldly people, and yet we should always remember who we are, as Jews, and our unique relationship as partners with God in making this world the best it can be. That is a responsibility and a privilege. And when we make mistakes, as we all will, we can remember that God will always take us back in love, when we strive to be our best selves in relation to God, God’s creations, and each other.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
Parashat Behukotai begins with the phrase “If you walk in my laws…”
A midrash from Vayikra Rabbah connects these words to a place in TaNaKh where King David describes walking to God: “‘If you walk in My laws’ (Lev. 26:3)–this is connected to what is written: “I have thought about my paths, and returned my feet to Your decrees’ (Psalms 119:53). David said: ‘Ribono shel Olam, every day I would plan my route and say: I am going to this place or to that home. But then my feet would bring me to a beit knesset, synagogue or a beit midrash, a study hall.’”
According to this midrash, whenever King David laced up his sandals and tried to walk anywhere, his feet would take him to a holy place.
The Sefat Emet gives a different explanation of this midrash. He says that King David didn’t really wind up in a beit knesset or beit midrash every time he headed out for a walk. Rather, his feet took him to all sorts of places, but he was always able to find something holy to do in these places.
As incredible as it is to go to holy places, to discover holiness in places you might otherwise not expect it, is almost more awe inspiring. We all have the ability to bring holiness out into the world wherever we go.
To merge these two explanations into one, I was privileged to have the experience of journeying to the annual Cantors Assembly convention last week. While I anticipated it being a holy experience, I did not experience holiness the moment I entered the lovely but secular space of the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Yet the moment I started seeing, singing and learning with colleagues and friends, I began to feel the sacredness of the space in which we were in…and not just because one of the conference rooms was called St Croix!
We all have the potential to bring the holiness we have within each of us into the places we enter throughout our lives. Whether that means having sacred moments in everyday spaces or coming to Beth El to experience our kehila kedosha, holy community, we all have the potential to walk, drive, fly, journey into the world, adding holiness wherever we go.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
This week’s Torah reading begins with lots of counting. Every week we count 6 days of work and then rest on the 7th, Shabbat. Parashat Behar goes further to say that in the land of Israel, we are to count 6 years of working the land and selling its crops. But the seventh year shall be one of rest for the land – a Shabbat, as it were – in which everyone may eat whatever the land produces.
The Torah goes further when it says we must count 7 weeks of years – 49 years – and the next one, 50, is a special Jubilee Year. It is a year of freedom throughout Israel, when slaves go free and property is returned to its original owner. In other words, it’s a giant reset.
I noticed this year that we read these verses during the Omer, the 7-week period when we count the 49 days between the second night of Passover and the beginning of Shavuot. Put these together, and we need several clocks to keep all of these concentric circles going. Why is the Torah so concerned with counting days, weeks, years, and groups of years?
Judaism seeks to maximize each day. It is fully aware that every day is a gift, every day precious. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel was on to this when he opened his classic book “The Sabbath”:
Judaism is a religion of time aiming at the sanctification of time. Unlike the space-minded man to whom time is unvaried, iterative, homogeneous, to whom all hours are alike, quality-less, empty shells, the Bible senses the diversified character of time. There are no two hours alike. Every hour is unique and the only one given at the moment, exclusive and endlessly precious.
It’s human nature to sometimes go through a pattern where the days run together and are hard to discern. Challenging though it may be, we must do our best to find differences between the days, both in what happens to us and how we respond. Judaism emphasizes personal growth, and growth means being at different places at different times, not being static or “same old, same old.” As Rabbi Marc Angel wrote: “We count our days to make our days count.”
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