The last month of the Jewish calendar (counting from Tishri) is called Elul (אֱלוּל), which begins at sundown on Saturday, August 7th this year. Traditionally, Rosh Chodesh Elul marks the beginning of a forty day “Season of Teshuvah” that culminates on the solemn holiday of Yom Kippur. The month of Elul is therefore a time set aside each year to prepare for the Yamim Nora’im, the “Days of Awe,” by getting our spiritual house in order. This year is especially important, friends, since time is short and the return of the Lord is imminent…
Beginning on Rosh Chodesh Elul and continuing until the day before Rosh Hashanah, it is customary to blow the shofar (ram’s horn) every day (except for Shabbat). This practice was adopted to help us awaken for the coming High Holidays. The custom is to first blow tekiah (תְּקִיעָה), a long single blast (the sound of the King’s coronation), followed by shevarim (שְׁבָרִים), three short, wail-like blasts (signifying repentance), followed by teruah (תְּרוּעָה), several short blasts of alarm (to awaken the soul), and to close with tekiah hagadol (תְּקִיעָה הַגָּדוֹל), a long, final blast.
Our Torah portion this week (i.e., 
Teshuvah (“repentance”) is often described as “turning” back to God, though practically speaking it is an ongoing turning, that is, a turning to God both in moments of ambiguity, pain, and distress, as well as in moments of respite and relative happiness… It is in the midst of the ego’s clamor, before the parade of worldly fears or pressures, in the crucible of “everydayness” that we must “come to ourselves” and (re)find God. In that sense, teshuvah is a sort of focus, a direction, a seeking, and a center of life, the place of constant repair for the inner breach we constantly feel. It’s a long road home to finally understand you belong at your Father’s table… That is the message of the parable of the prodigal’s return (see Luke 15:11-32).
C.S. Lewis once made the helpful distinction between “looking at” and “looking along” a sunbeam (Lewis: “Meditation in a Tool Shed,” 1945). In the former case the mind looks “at” the beam itself, from a supposedly “transcendental” perspective, as if it could objectively describe the thing in descriptive terms, as a “fact” or by reducing the phenomena to simpler, more “natural” terms (e.g., defining light as waves or particles or energy). In the latter case, the mind see “along” the beam in relationship with it, seeing by its means, as part of his horizon of experience, not focusing on it (as a fact) but experiencing other things through its agency, and interpreting them in a semantic world of interrelated meanings. Now Lewis’ point was that modern scientific humanism assumes it provides a “truer” interpretation of experience by looking “at” things, as for example, when it “reduces” (i.e., explains away) religious experience as a matter of genetics, sociology, psychology, or some other “natural” paradigm. Of course such a presupposition is without real warrant, since “looking at” something involves its own way of “looking along” the axis of assumptions hidden within its own methodology…. In short, there is no true “looking at” things as an independent observer, since everyone is affected by their own biases and assumptions they bring to experience. Such awareness should instill within every soul a deep sense of humility. Nevertheless, in questions of faith we are both look at and look along the contours of life to make inferences to the best explanation, and therefore as Lewis succinctly said, “ ‘I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.’ We (all of us) walk by faith, not by sight, and the only real question is what direction are we looking…
In light of the threat of an invasion from the east, King Jehoshaphat (המלך יהושפט) of Judah prayed: “O LORD, God of our fathers (יהוה אֱלֹהֵי אֲבֹתֵינוּ), are you not God in heaven? You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. In your hand are power and might, so that none is able to withstand you… O our God, will you not judge them? For we are powerless against this huge army that attacks us; we do not know what to do: but our eyes are upon you (כִּי עָלֶיךָ עֵינֵינוּ)… After he prayed, the Spirit of God spoke forth: “Thus says the LORD to you, ‘Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed at this great horde, for the battle is not yours but God’s'” (2 Chron. 20). Amen, Lord, our eyes are upon you…
We are warned not to destroy ourselves by allowing bitterness, anger, or fear to consume our hearts. In our Torah this week (
“Only watch yourself, and watch your soul diligently, lest you forget…” (Deut. 4:9a; Deut. 8:11). We are in constant and great need to remember the greatness of God, for when we forget this central truth, we lose sight of who we are and why we exist… Therefore we are earnestly admonished to guard our hearts with all diligence, for from the heart flows the streams of life (Prov. 4:23). Forgetfulness leads to apathy and indulgent thinking – a sure recipe for idolatry and despair… On the other hand, as we “practice the presence” of God, we encounter daily miracles and realize that our life comes from above: “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). If we do not know God in all our ways, we lose touch with the purpose for our lives; if we close our eyes to the wonders of life, we forget both their source and the source of all that exists…
We read in our Torah portion for this week (i.e., 
Most of us understand that loving God is our essential obligation, the end or “goal” of all the other commandments, the very reason why God has spoken and why we exist. Yeshua plainly taught that this was the point of “the Torah and the prophets,” the rest being commentary (Matt. 7:12, Matt. 22:36-40). However, while love is our greatest duty – the yoke of heaven – you might be surprised to learn that the most frequent commandment is simply al-tira, “Be not afraid.” Over and over again in the Scriptures we hear the LORD saying to those who trust in Him, al tira, “be not afraid.”
