The Call of Elul: Between Anger, Grief, and Renewal

We have entered the Jewish month of Elul—a month of self-reflection and heart-opening in preparation for the new year. Elul calls us to look inward, to take stock of our choices, and to examine where we have lived up to our values and where we have fallen short. It is a month that balances the beauty of collective kindness and forgiveness with the personal responsibility to acknowledge our shortcomings, seek repentance, and chart a path forward.

Yet for many, this year’s reflection feels heavier than ever. Where does the anger that this war has ignited in us belong? Can it be justified? Have we, in the name of survival, strayed from the very values that once defined us? Who are we now—nearly two years after October 7th?

Al chet shechatanu lefanecha—for the sin we have committed before You under duress or willingly.
Have I made my decisions from a place of integrity, or have I acted merely in response to the pain of my people?

Al chet shechatanu lefanecha—for the sin we have committed before You through hard-heartedness.
Have I allowed my grief to blind me to the suffering of others?

Al chet shechatanu lefanecha—for the sin we have committed before You with an utterance of the lips.
Have I used my voice to advocate for all who suffer, or only to defend my side of the story?

As an educator, these questions weigh even more heavily. The past two years of Israel education have been marked by challenge and heartbreak. We have worked tirelessly to nurture a generation of strong Jewish voices—voices that can speak truth to a world clouded by misinformation and judgment, voices that carry the resilience and hope of our people. Our task has always been to ensure that Jewish identity remains unshakable, that our traditions and values are carried proudly l’dor v’dor—from generation to generation.

Someone recently reminded me that “good learners make for good educators.” During Elul, our learning goes beyond the classroom—it is a reckoning with ourselves. We ask: Have we walked through this year with courage, humility, and compassion? Have we stayed true to the values we teach, or have we allowed pain and fear to dictate our actions?

This is the call of Elul: to confront our deepest questions honestly, to bring both our failures and our hopes before God, and to prepare to enter the new year with clarity of heart. For me, this process is not abstract—it is deeply personal. I, too, wrestle with anger, with grief, with the tension between my ideals and my instincts. I, too, wonder if I have spoken with enough compassion, or if I have shut my heart when it felt too heavy to carry more pain.

My hope for this Elul is that I have the courage to soften where I have become hardened, the strength to speak truth without silencing empathy, and the humility to return—again and again—to the values that ground me. And I pray that in doing so, I can model for my students, my community, and myself what it means to turn, to learn, and to begin anew.