In my first year at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, I had a chance to intern at The Jewish Exponent in Philadelphia. I had no previous newspaper experience and knew very little of the ins and outs of a good story. For my assignments, I was told to go out, synthesize the important points in a few paragraphs and add quotes. Oh, and by the way, I only had until the following day to submit a 500-word article.
This last point turned out to be key. Newspapers run deadlines. For the reporters I worked with, this was paramount. A deadline meant you did your best in the time allotted and hoped that the combination of good editors and prayers would do the rest. Far from being a source of stress, a deadline was actually a source of comfort, providing the necessary boundaries that fuel solid work.
But, of course, newspaper deadlines had layers. There were deadlines reporters needed to submit their work to get it into the paper. Deadlines the editors had to finish working on those articles. Deadlines for advertising department to complete the layout. Deadlines the entire paper itself had to be finished. And, on and on — up until that final deadline late on Tuesday night, when the newspaper was sent to print, there was always time to make changes.
I think of this fundamental element of the newspaper business every year as we approach High Holy Days. The brilliance of the rabbinic system of teshuvah, “repentance,” is how pragmatic it is. There is the daily reminder to do better at the end of our morning prayers when we recite Tachanun, a prayer where we beg God for forgiveness for our wrongdoings. Then there is the seven-week warning that Rosh Hashanah is approaching on Tisha B’Av. If that is not good enough, there is one month warning at the start of the month of Elul. And, if that is not good enough to inspire you to change your ways, there are the Ten Days of Awe between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Until finally, even as the last seconds of Yom Kippur are ticking away, there is Ne’ilah, the final closing of the gate.
Deadlines help focus us, prepare us, making it more likely that we will achieve our aims. But they are also, in their own way, arbitrary, providing second chance upon second chance if we are unable to live up to our expectations. In the case of teshuvah, the rabbis tell us we have until the moment of our death to offer our confessional prayers.
What attracted me to Reconstructionist Judaism in the first place was its fundamental pragmatism. “The past,” as Mordecai Kaplan taught, “had a vote, not a veto.” His philosophy gave permission to explore our traditions but not to be imprisoned by them. In order for this to happen, one must understand that the rules had only ever been in place to help us. Through this lens, I can only ever see this part of the year — the time of our deadlines — as being gentle nudges to do better. My God, the God of process and salvation, does not require us to always be at our best, only to strive to do so over the course of our lives.
Deadlines help focus us, prepare us, making it more likely that we will achieve our aims. But they are also, in their own way, arbitrary, providing second chance upon second chance if we are unable to live up to our expectations.
This Elul, the final month before Rosh Hashanah, let us not see the impending High Holy Days as things to be feared, but rather, as real opportunities to make a difference.
