In a classic joke, set in a pre-COVID world, a Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a hot dog vendor and says, "Make me one with everything." The hot dog vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20 bill. The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it. "Excuse me, but where’s my change?" asks the Zen master. The vendor responds, "Change must come from within."
The idea of wanting to change or needing to change is central to the themes and liturgy of the High Holy Days. Every year, during Elul and through the holidays, we are reminded that we have the ability to change all year long, not just in the period leading up to Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. And yet so often, every year we seem to find ourselves in the same boat, essentially “cramming” all of the work that we should be doing all year long into the month, days, and hours before the holy days. Teshuva literally means to “return” and Maimonides says, the one who is truly repentant, the one who is truly returning and changing, is the one who finds himself with the opportunity to commit the same sin again yet declines to do so.
I think that Maimonides was touching on something, but I want to take it a step further.
Many of us have a wish for things to go back to “normal.” But I want to remind us that we and the world were not in a good place before COVID. For Maimonides, changing is about being in the same position and not repeating the same habits, not falling into the same routines and reactions that may have been destructive to ourselves, others, and our world. Yet the desire to go back to that status as the quo now, ignores and disregards our responsibility to build and demand a better world for ourselves and for others. It is not acceptable to think that teshuva, a true return or demonstrating repentance means that we must return to that status quo.
Robin Hobb, the pen name of the science-fiction author, Margaret Ogden, wrote at the end of one of her books, “Each circle spins off a circle of its own. Each one seems a new thing but in truth it is not. It is just our most recent attempt to correct old errors, to undo old wrongs done to us, and to make up for things we have neglected. In each cycle, we may correct old errors, but I think we make many new ones. Yet what is our alternative? To commit the same old errors again? Perhaps having the courage to find a better path is having the courage to risk making new mistakes.”
This Elul, and this High Holy Day season, we must be willing to take new risks, to make new mistakes, and strive for a better world. And should we see ourselves falling into the same routines and roles that we seem to crave so much these days, may we channel Maimonides and act differently. We must ensure that the spaces and situations that we find ourselves in are not the same ones where we were because we are obligated to do better and strive to make our world better.
-Rabbi Aviva Fellman
Rabbi Aviva Fellman currently serves the Greater Worcester community as Rabbi at Congregation Beth Israel.
After completing her bachelor’s Summa Cum Laude in Religious Studies at the University of Pittsburgh, she earned a master’s in Talmud and Jewish Law from Machon Schechter in Jerusalem and was ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS) in NYC in 2012. At JTS, she is proud to have been half of the first simultaneous daughter-father rabbinical student duo. (Her father was ordained in 2014)
Aviva serves on the executive board of Worcester Interfaith, and is active on committees at City Hall including the efforts to end homelessness and address issues of race and inequality. She teaches about Judaism and Torah to students all over the city- in local universities, senior education programs, and through the JCC. She works tirelessly to break down barriers to inclusion and foster acceptance of all in religious spaces. Aviva and her husband, Ari, have four children.
