This past Sunday, we entered the month of Elul, making this week the first one in our buildup to Rosh Hashanah. And with that transition in the calendar comes a liturgical change as we add Psalm 27 into our services. This psalm discusses the desire to dwell in God’s house, a desire to be intimate with God, a desire to be known by God. We don't just recite this psalm leading up to Rosh Hashanah, we actually recite it throughout this holiday season - a total of 50 days. In many ways, this is akin to the counting of the Omer. This is just another one of the ways that our tradition asks us to mark time. In this counting, though, we don’t stop when we reach the holiday, we use the liturgy to bring us through the season. During the entire period of these holidays that push us to evaluate ourselves and our relationship to God, we declare that we want God with us, even when it’s hard and even when we don’t know where our reflection will lead us.
The counting of the Omer this year, from Pesach to Shavuot, meant something very different for me, as my due date was Erev Shavuot (nevermind that Lavi camped out for a week and a half after that). I counted and awaited the arrival of our child, and every night when Abe and I counted the Omer, we thought about how much closer we were to our family changing. And this week, as we began the recitation of Psalm 27, I entered another new period in our lives as I returned to work. This psalm will accompany me through the end of Sukkot, through the first month and a half of my return.
I’m looking forward to returning to the work I love, and navigating what it means to add a new layer to my identity. Abe and I have been tremendously moved and touched by the outpouring of love and support that we’ve received, and we feel so blessed to be a part of a community that extends itself in so many ways.
Psalm 27 reveals the Psalmist’s vulnerabilities, fears, and anxieties - “Do not forsake me, do not abandon me.” Yet it ends with a statement of hope and faith - “Place hope in Adonai, be strong, and take courage, and place hope in Adonai.” As I merge the two identities of rabbi and parent, I have faith, and I have hope. I’ve never gone through this type of transition before. And as I’ve heard from some other new parents, it will require some courage. But I also believe that God is with me in this as I believe God is with all of us, and I feel the embrace of dwelling in God’s house, with all of you.
