Elul Reflections and New Year Resolutions

August 28, 2026 in Israel, Scroll

By Larry Sidman

We have entered the month of Elul, a 30-day period of introspection during which we prepare for the Yomim Noraim, the 10 Days of Awe, commencing with Rosh Hashanah and concluding with Yom Kippur. Our tradition teaches us that we should reflect with extraordinary intentionality about how we have lived in the past year and how we might improve our lot and the lives of those around us in the coming year. We are invited to explore our relationships with God and people. Some of us focus primarily on our conduct towards our families and friends. Others may focus more on the external world: local communities, our nation, Israel, and the plight of humanity. We sound the shofar each day of Elul, underscoring the heightened attention necessary to be ready for the High Holidays.

The Torah and Haftarah readings immediately preceding and continuing through the month of Elul provide guides for our reflections. The fifth book of the Torah, Deuteronomy, reiterates many of the commandments and responsibilities of Jews with respect to worship of God and treatment of others. It rivets our attention to the consequences of our behavior. In stark terms, parsha Ki Tavo spells out the blessings flowing from following the mitzvot and the curses resulting from violating them. Similarly, the corresponding Haftarah readings, drawn from the prophet Isaiah, and collectively known as readings of consolation following Tisha B’Av, herald the glorious redemption of the people of Israel following the horrors of conquest and ensuing exile.

One common theme that is strikingly similar in the Torah and Haftarah readings during this period of preparation is the link between the Jewish people’s conduct and the objective of reaching Eretz Yisrael and the quality of their lives once they reside there. In successive readings, the goodness of Eretz Yisrael is the ultimate reward for following in God’s ways. Described in parsha Eikev as a “land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey,” inheriting the land of Israel is the capstone blessing, the fulfillment of God’s promise to the Jewish people. Conversely, if the people of Israel stray, their glorious land will be ravaged, and they will suffer death and destruction. In these readings, the land of Israel is central to the identity and fate of the Jewish people.

As we engage in the reflection preceding Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, these passages are almost eerily relevant. After nearly 2,000 years of persecution, exile, and murderous destruction, we have achieved the rebirth of the State of Israel and the rebuilding of Eretz Yisrael. The modern State of Israel has made the desert bloom, advanced the state of medicine and emergency health care, emerged as a global leader in digital innovation, and exported much of what it has learned to the poorest countries in the world, especially in Africa. Yet, today, 78 years after Israel’s declaration of independence, it is fighting a nine-front war, the avowed goal of which is its destruction.

Similarly, for most of the post-World War II era, Jews living in the United States, in general, have achieved greater acceptance, prosperity, increased political power, and freedom from physical and psychological attack. America earned the moniker “goldena medina” that our immigrant predecessors sought when they arrived on our shores. However, in the past decade, accelerating dramatically during the Gaza War following Hamas’ October 7 massacre, American Jews, along with Jews around the world, have experienced a frightening surge in ever more violent antisemitism. Perpetrators of this new wave of antisemitism often justify their reprehensible behavior by reference to their opposition to the policies of the Netanyahu government, especially the manner in which it has prosecuted the Gaza War. The more extreme among them adopt the mantra of Israel’s sworn enemies that the State of Israel is illegitimate and has no right to exist as the homeland for the Jewish people.

In short, Israeli and American Jews have enjoyed great blessings for decades. Now, the curses seem to be everywhere. What are we Jews to do? Each one of us must decide for him/her/themselves. Permit me to share two recent experiences that frame my response.

In July, I spent a day at Capital Camp where I met approximately 25 Israeli kids, between 12 and 14, all of whom had lost a parent or a sibling, most as a consequence of the Hamas massacre and the ensuing Gaza War. They were in the United States as part of the Friends of the Israel Defense Forces Legacy Camp program. Despite the nearly incomprehensible burden of sorrow that each of them carried within, they exhibited simultaneously totally kid-like behavior, horsing around and teasing each other, and distinctly “untween” gratitude and resilience.

A few weeks ago, a college classmate of Ukrainian descent and proudly self-proclaimed anti-Zionist posted a query on our class listserve asking whether Israel had committed a pogrom in Gaza. I answered in the negative, defining the term “pogrom” and referring to the history of pogroms in Ukraine and the role of Ukrainian militia in actively assisting the Nazis in World War II. My response provoked a reply from another classmate who wrote that actions of the current Israeli government fit the “classic definitions of apartheid, ethnic cleansing and genocide.” He concluded with the remark that my initial response “sullies you,” essentially holding me responsible by association with certain actions and policies of the Netanyahu government that I deplore.

My takeaway from the juxtaposition of these two experiences is that Israeli and American Jews would do well to engage as much as possible with each other, listening attentively to each other’s concerns and empathizing with each other’s needs and dilemmas. Let us not fear offering and accepting constructive criticism of each other and our respective governments. At the same time, let us always remain mindful that we are one people responsible for each other.

This deceptively simple prescription requires us to look inward and embrace hope and strength, a powerful combination that is part of our Jewish DNA. Returning to our preparation for the High Holidays, throughout the month of Elul and continuing through Yom Kippur, each day we read Psalm 27. It concludes: “Be strong and make your heart courageous, and hope in God.”

May the new year 5787 be filled with blessings for all of us.