Shabbat Messages

I stood outside my daughter’s freshman dorm yesterday morning, kissed her on her head, gave her a brief blessing, and watched as she strolled back into her new home in a city and state far from Los Angeles. That moment came at the end of a few very long, but joyous and exciting days, as Julia and I traveled with her (and many suitcases) by plane across the country, loaded up an extremely large SUV, drove to her college town, and then transformed a shoebox of a dorm room into a beautifully decorated palace fit for her and her roommate. As we pulled away yesterday, Julia and I smiled at each other and on the drive to the airport, we shared milestone moments from Ella’s eighteen years of life. With a few tears of joy, we celebrated the ‘launching’ of our eldest daughter, excited for all the adventures still to come.

For weeks leading up to that moment, our house was filled with piles–clothes, bedding, and boxes. We have been trying to prepare Ella for the world and over these past few weeks, that preparation was purely literal. But as all parents know, the most important things you give your child cannot be packed in a suitcase or oversized duffel bag–resilience and kindness, good judgment and curiosity, the wisdom to know when to ask for help and when to trust herself, enough Jewish self-confidence to encounter a complicated world without being afraid to bring her full Jewish self into it. We’ve tried to build these into her life slowly but surely over the past 18 years. I think we’ve done a pretty good job.

Our Torah portion this week begins, V’haya ki tavo el ha’aretz–“When you enter the land.” Ki Tavo is about preparing for arrival in the Promised Land, but when the Israelites finally enter the land and bring their first fruits, the Torah tells them they can’t just celebrate where they’re going. They must first tell the story of where they’ve been–to remember their ancestors, their struggles, their liberation, and the journey that brought them to this moment. Before moving forward, they have to look back.

We are now well into the month of Elul, which prepares us for the High Holy Days. In just over a week, on Saturday night, September 5, we will gather for Selichot and begin turning even more intentionally toward Rosh Hashanah and the work of teshuvah. Judaism doesn’t ask us simply to arrive at the new year, it asks us to prepare for it.

The bags and boxes surrounding my family these past weeks parallel a timeless Elul practice. This month, we are supposed to imagine opening the suitcase of our own life. What have you been carrying? What do you want to bring with you into 5787 with greater intention? And what are you finally ready to leave behind?

Our daughter did this with her bedroom. With each drawer of clothing, she was faced with a question: Was this something to keep or leave behind? Her desk drawers: What would be placed in a keepsake box and what would be tossed? Her closet…don’t get me started on the closet! This process forced her to look at who she has become, and decide what was meant to travel forward with her.

We all carry things that once belonged in our lives but no longer fit: an old resentment, an unhealthy habit, an assumption about ourselves, an emotional scar we have allowed to become part of our identity. Elul is our opportunity to decide what baggage we actually want to keep carrying.

Ki Tavo adds another element to the Elul process. Before we race forward, we have to look back with gratitude. Who helped bring me to where I am today? What blessings did I too easily overlook this year? What experiences, including the difficult ones, have offered me new perspectives?

This week, my family is standing at a threshold. I am going to miss seeing Ella every morning, and I am enormously proud of who she has become and genuinely excited about everything waiting for her. That combination of emotions is appropriate for all of us during this month of Elul. A new year is coming and we cannot know what it will hold. But we can pause before entering it, find the courage to leave behind what no longer serves us, remember where we’ve been, give thanks for what brought us here, and most importantly, decide what is worth carrying forward.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Joel Nickerson