The journey of the past two years has been long and arduous. In an instant, on October 7, we were thrust into a war of survival. Though we have witnessed remarkable miracles and achieved impressive victories, much remains unresolved. Above all, we continue to suffer for the hostages trapped in the suffocating tunnels of Gaza. This difficult path stretches on, one we must walk together as a nation, steadfastly defending our land and the legacy of our history.
As the month of Elul unfolds, we embark on a very different journey. It is not collective but deeply personal. It does not confront external enemies, but the inner questions of self and character. Elul is a deep dive into ourselves, into the hidden recesses of who we are. Without this introspection, we cannot grow into better people. Even as the national situation rightly demands our attention, we must not forget this personal journey into the inner worlds that shape us.
Over the coming month, as we search for meaning and work to refine our character, we turn inward with intention. We seek ways to ensure that our self-assessment is honest and genuine. These reflections should not be reserved for ourselves alone, but also applied to how we regard others and their opinions – especially those with whom we disagree.
Yet even as we look inward, our communal bonds are tested. The unity we achieved during the early stages of this war has fractured, and rancor and acrimony have returned. So many issues divide us, and unfortunately, we have slipped into aggressive polemics, harsh caricatures, and sweeping condemnations. Some of the reflective practices of Elul that guide us in self-improvement can also help us improve the way we engage with others, bringing a measure of understanding and patience into our conversations.
Humility
Without humility, we cannot meet our own vulnerabilities. Overconfidence hides the insecurities that dwell within us. It takes courage to face ourselves fully, to stand before our shortcomings without pretense. Without honest “looking in the mirror,” personal change doesn’t begin.
Standing before G-d this month helps awaken inner humility. Once humbled, we can see our flaws clearly and begin the patient work of refining ourselves and setting our course toward growth.
Humility must also extend outward. Can we practice intellectual humility, admitting that we do not hold all the answers? There are thoughtful, morally sensitive, and religiously committed people whose truths may lie beyond our full understanding. Are we capable of holding fast to our own convictions while still acknowledging that we do not possess a monopoly on truth?
Doubt
If humility opens our lens outward, doubt sharpens it inward. Personal change can only follow in the wake of healthy self-doubt. When we are too assured of our own righteousness, we become complacent and uncritically self-assured. These days of Repentance call us to introduce doubt into our lives. Are we living up to our potential? Are we wasting or squandering opportunities? Are we centering G-d and our spiritual commitments?
Over the coming month, we are expected to cultivate healthy self-doubt, giving ourselves the space to reexamine our values and the ways in which we honor them. Healthy doubt is the gateway to real change.
Can we extend the same healthy doubt to the way we respond to people and ideas with which we disagree? Among the confessions of Al Chet, we admit to having sinned through the “thoughts and wonderings of our hearts” (b’hirhur ha-lev). Traditionally, this has been understood as a reference to doubts about faith and religion – confessing that we questioned principles meant to remain unshakable. Yet my teacher, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, suggested that this confession can also be read differently: as an admission that we have not entertained enough doubt in our lives. At times, we are too supremely confident in our own positions, failing to probe them with the scrutiny they deserve.
Talmudic discourse teaches us to hold multiple opinions at once, understanding that the word of G-d contains many truths. Often, a Talmudic scholar will offer logic both to explain his own position and to explain the position that disputes his. Without doubt, we cling to certainty; with doubt, we discover deeper truth.
Humility and doubt are close, but not identical. Humility means accepting that some truths lie beyond our grasp and that others may see what we cannot. Doubt means revisiting our own convictions, questioning them honestly, and refining them when needed. Together, they allow us both to acknowledge our limits and to sharpen the beliefs we do hold.
Judging Favorably
When we assess our actions honestly, without airbrushing or concealment, the picture can feel stark and unsettling. As we turn to G-d for forgiveness, we must first reframe the way we see ourselves. In our most private conversations with G-d, we grant ourselves the benefit of the doubt. We tell ourselves that we may have stumbled, acted lazily, or been driven by pettiness, but beneath those failures lies a core of sincerity and goodness. We ask G-d to see that inner goodness and to judge us not only by our lapses but by the purity of our intentions. Repentance begins with the recognition of that goodness and the courage to live by it.
Can we extend that same generosity of judgment outward, toward others? Can we look past sharp disagreements and still recognize the sincerity that underlies them? Even when we differ in perspective or strategy, we can presume that others also pursue noble aims. Their path may diverge from ours, but the heart of their effort can be just as earnest and pure.
Tolerance Even Without Forgiveness
Isaiah (chapter 1) tells us that if our sins are crimson threads, they can be made white as snow; if they are as red as scarlet, they can become like cleansed wool. Wool can be restored to its original white color by removing the dirt within. Snow, by contrast, does not change what lies beneath – it only lays a quiet, glistening cover over the earth. In asking G-d for forgiveness, we also seek His love to veil our failures, to soften His anger with compassion.
Our society is heavy with anger. We face real, urgent challenges that affect the future of our country. The stress of war weighs on us all, intensifying tensions in families, communities, and public life. Even when we cannot agree, we can focus on what unites us rather than dwelling only on what divides us. We may not resolve every conflict, but we can ease hostility and bring a measure of calm to our shared struggles.
The Imperfect
Ultimately, teshuva is not an all-or-nothing proposition. There are many levels of repentance. Even if our return is not fully sincere or wholehearted, G-d accepts it. The same is true of unity. At present, we seem far from that ideal. We are divided, and the stakes are high. Perhaps ideal unity is beyond our reach. Yet we can do much to lower the intensity of our heated arguments. By applying the same principles we use for personal growth – patience, humility, and self-reflection – we can navigate our divisions with care. In doing so, we may emerge feeling closer to one another, even if full unity remains beyond our reach.
