Clergy Reflections on Elul: Fear and Loving in Los Angeles

I remember our first date. Peering through the curtains of my giant living room window while I waited nervously for Anai to pick me up. I think back to the effortless conversation while eating tacos at Guisados under the multicolour lights of West Hollywood. I always save room for dessert, a value I quickly learn we share so we head next door for my inaugural scoops of Arbequina Olive Oil ice cream at Salt and Straw. Fast forward about two years marked by picnics, “I picked up a cookie for you”, last minute concert tickets to St. Patrick’s Day, 2024 and we are under our Chuppah. 

For a moment we were suspended in time and all I could see was Anai across from me. Feeling her hand in my hand, a wave of calmness washed over me as we moved into the rest of our lives together and shared our vows.

In Jewish tradition, the month of Elul is an acronym of a verse from the Song of Songs,

 אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי, “I am my beloved and my beloved is mine”. The Song of Songs is an epic poem that narrates the love story of two lovers as they search for each other through gardens and shadows. Facing their fear and uncertainty with courage knowing they will always find each other again. The verse speaks to a profound closeness between lovers. You commit to loving the entirety of the person, darkness and light.

This verse is emblematic of our task during Elul; to be rigorously vulnerable, humble and intimate with ourselves. Reuven Hammer, a scholar of Jewish prayer and ritual teaches that “the Sages take this verse to describe the particularly loving and close relationship between God and Israel. Elul, then, is our time to establish this closeness so that we can approach the Yamim Nora’im, the Days of Awe in trusting acceptance of God’s judgment. We approach the trial not out of fear but out of love” (p. 38). 

While I reflect on our past year of marriage, I realize that one of my greatest challenges was that marriage deepened our intimacy and understanding of each other by seeing the raw edges, the vulnerable dark and challenging sides of each other. 

I spent a lot of time focused on fixing those parts and fearing everything falling apart if we didn’t. What I missed in all that worry is that Anai was still there, she is still here. We wake up every morning, starting our relationship anew regardless of the challenges of yesterday. The point of the commitment is that we are committed; that we can be messy and be loved. 

As I prepare to recommit myself to another year of trying to live in better alignment with my values, I will approach this period of introspection confidently. Trusting that being known for the dark sides of myself is a sign of deep love and my commitment to each other. A sign of the full and abundant life to come.