18 | SEPTEMBER 14 • 2023 

T

hroughout the Jewish month of 
Elul we prepare for the “Days of 
Awe” (Yamim Noraim) in a variety 
of traditional ways. Some have the 
practice of reciting selichot (penitential 
prayers) from the 
beginning of the month, 
others recite them the week 
before Rosh Hashanah. 
Other traditions include 
the sounding of the shofar 
after morning prayers and 
the recitation of Psalm 27 
twice a day. 
The introspective tone set by these 
preparations extends through the Yom 
Kippur holiday, making the period of 
Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, 
also referred to as the “10 days of 
repentance,” the longest holiday period in 
the Jewish calendar; it provides us with a 
much-needed pause to reorient ourselves 
and regain perspective.
Psalm 27 expresses a longing that 
captures the dream of God’s most 
devoted adherents: “One thing I ask of 
the Lord … to live in the house of the 
Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon 
the beauty of the Lord … (verse 4).” 
Not only does this verse challenge us 
to pursue our own relationship with God, 
but it also calls upon us to consider how 
we want to spend the “days of our lives.”
Maimonides, in his code on repentance 
(chapter 3, halacha 4), explains that the 
shofar blast ought to rouse us from our 
“slumber” to “inspect our deeds, repent 
and remember our Creator.” 
With our busy lives, between work, 
family and our personal pursuits, it’s easy 
to lose track of our priorities and 
our most precious commodity: 
time. Perhaps more than ever 
in history, we have the 
luxury of deciding how 
we want to spend our 
time. Automation 
and modern 
conveniences 
have allowed 

us to allocate our time to recreational 
and avocational pursuits more so than 
ever before. Furthermore, technology 
and media are more appealing and 
alluring than ever, often drawing us in 
as a way to “spend” or “kill” time. With 
the multitude of ways to spend our time 
(and with life expectancy increasing), has 
time’s value depreciated?
Psalm 90, recited on Shabbat and 
holidays, emphasizes the fact that as 
humans we are bound by time. It relays, 
rather somberly, “The span of our life is 
70 years, or, given strength, 80 years … 
(verse 10)” and reflects that if only God 
would “teach us to count our days, that 
we may obtain a wise heart.” 
The High Holidays remind us that we 
ought to count our days so that we may 
use them wisely. As any young person 
has heard and any maturing person has 
experienced, the sense of time passing 
increases as we age. And as we age, the 
High Holidays seem to approach with 
greater rapidity.
That we are bound by time, a 
beginning and end, is a sobering 
thought, but it is also empowering. This 
High Holiday season, when you hear 
the rousing pitch of the shofar blasts, 
consider that there are many things 
in your life you simply can’t control; 
mortality is one of them. But what you 
do with the time you have, how you 
spend “the days of your lives” is up to 
you. 

Rabbi Azaryah Cohen is head of school at Frankel 

Jewish Academy.

Rabbi 
Azaryah 
Cohen

A Time to Prioritize

preparing for the holidays. When you 
sit in the congregation and listen to 
the beautiful and spiritually uplifting 
voices of your cantor and choir, 
recognize that hours of preparation 
and rehearsal are behind the moment. 
Dear congregant, no matter the 
topic of your rabbi’s sermon, take 
time to consider the meaning of these 
sacred days. Consider challenges 
you have faced in the year that has 
concluded, opportunities missed 
and successes you can build on. The 
liturgy of the High Holidays will have 
meaning, if each of us considers how 
we will live more courageous, honest 
and introspective lives. 
We are the descendants of 
Abraham and Sarah; we are the link 
whose blessing it is to preserve and 
protect an ancient covenant. We are 
allowed our differences, but Jewish 
divisions that ignore the principle 
of clal Yisral, that we are all one 
family, serve those who wish to harm 
us. 
 For 53 years, I have served as a 
rabbi at Temple Israel. I am often 
asked: How many couples have you 
married? How many funerals have 
you performed? No one has ever 
asked: How many sermons have you 
delivered? And truly, I recall only a 
few of my messages and hope that 
they had meaning when they were 
delivered. 
I wish my colleagues, who 
are finishing their sermons, a 
congregation filled with those who 
listen with intelligence, compassion 
and hope for a better future. Their 
sermons will be discussed, analyzed 
and critiqued at many family 
dinners. Their hope is that they have 
spiritually touched the souls of their 
synagogue family. 
So, as you enjoy the sermon that 
your rabbi delivers, I wish all a happy, 
healthy and meaningful New Year. 

Harold Loss is a rabbi at Temple Israel.

continued from page 16

ROSH HASHANAH

