The Hebrew month of Elul immediately precedes the "High Holy Days" of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Jewish tradition calls on us to use this month to undertake a " cheshbon nefesh," or "accounting of the soul." 

As Rabbi Alan Lew writes, we remember that on Rosh Hashanah, we "will stand before God." "What will God see on that day?," Lew asks. "What will you see? This encounter can carry you significantly closer to the truth of your life. Standing in the light of God, you can see a great deal more than you ordinarily might, but only to the degree that you are already awake, only in proportion to the time an energy you have devoted to preparing for this encounter." 

The texts and questions that follow are designed to assist you in preparing your own cheshbon nefesh. They cover 29 traits, or middot one for each day of the month of Elul. Each day, take a few moments to reflect on the trait of the day. You may wish to note your reflections in a personal journal, or to pair up with a partner ( chavruta), and check in with one another by phone or email. You may also wish to keep a running list of people from whom you need to seek forgiveness, and another list of those you wish to forgive. 

It is our hope that by engaging in this sustained period of reflection, you will be better prepared to experience the transformative potential of the High Holy Days.

Rabbi Nicole Auerbach, Central Synagogue, 2016/5776

As the calendar turns toward the High Holy Days, a sort of dread falls on the Jewish world. For some, it is the anticipation of the Yamim Nora'im , the Days of Awe, where we stand in reverence, and perhaps even fear, for our very fragile human lives.

But, before we get to awe and fear, let's remember Elul, the month preceding the Holy Days. Tradition holds that the four letters making up the name of the month are initials of a phrase from Song of Songs: Ani L'dodi V'dodi Li - I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine. Before we can relate to the concept of fear, we have to first love. Consider Johnny Cash's song, "I Walk the Line":

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine, I walk the line

Aware of the preciousness of his relationship, of its fragility, of the obligation to cultivate and protect it, he treads carefully in the world. He is attentive to how he acts, fearful that a slip may cause his beloved pain. Everything, each moment, is another instance of proof of his love or potential for its betrayal.

What would happen if we related to our lives in with that same attentiveness and gratitude? What if our life, embedded in an inseparable from this world, was our beloved - the one we hoped to please and feared disappointing?