We are now in the Hebrew month of Elul, the time of preparation for Rosh Hashanah, the first day of the New Year, and Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. Some people think these holy days are an excuse for self-flagellation. But that's really not quite right.
Actually, there isn't even a word in Hebrew for "sin." The word that might ordinarily be translated "sin" is "chet," which literally means "missing the mark." What with us being human and all, we're pretty much guaranteed to miss the mark every now and then.
So we set aside the month of Elul as a reminder to try to set our missed marks right if we can, to seek the forgiveness of those we've accidentally shot in the foot, and to forgive ourselves. By letting go of our past errors, we free ourselves to focus on aiming better next time.
And then there's the other side of Elul. It's not enough only to recognize your own missed marks; you need also to forgive those of others. Holding a grudge is a weight that can blur your vision and skew your aim. Yet I think this is probably the more difficult part. Fortunately, there's a story for it.
These two guys, Jacob and Eliezer, set out on a trip together. While they were trying to cross a river, Jacob slipped and fell in. But his friend Eliezer jumped in and saved him before he drowned. Jacob then carved into a stone by the river, "In this place, Eliezer risked his life to save the life of his friend Jacob." Nearby, a servant who was traveling with them observed and was curious.
Later, the two friends got into a senseless argument, and Jacob wrote in the dirt, "In this place Eliezer broke the heart of his friend Jacob during a trivial argument." The servant observed this also, and this time he asked, "Why did you inscribe the account of Eliezer's heroism in stone, but the account of his cruelty in dirt?"
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Jacob replied, "Because I will forever cherish how Eliezer risked his life to save mine, but his hurtful words I hope will fade as quickly as words scratched in dirt." Then he took his foot and rubbed the words out.
It is easy for me to remember my blessings. But sometimes it seems not so easy to rub out the hurts. I must admit, I am writing this in a moment of anger, a moment in which it is not so easy to forgive.
I picked up the Daily Lobo on the morning of Friday, September 7, and there on the fourth page were two people calling for peace. But their language was not a language of peace.
I am angry at those supporters of Israel who speak as if every Palestinian is a blood-thirsty terrorist out for the destruction of Israel. I am angry at those supporters of Palestine who speak as if every Israeli - and, as often as not, every Jew - is a tyrant out to oppress Palestinians. I am angry that people on both sides ignore the fears and angers, the desires and passions, the millennia of enmity and hurt that have brought both sides to this terrible impasse.
But this is, after all, the month of Elul. So I will remember that the people I am angry with have their own fears and angers, desires and passions that have brought them to such harsh words. I will remember that, much like I so often have, they have only missed the mark.
And I will know that it is my love and not my anger that will better enable me to heal the missed marks I see in the world. Then I will pick up my bow, cock my arrow and aim for the bull's eye.
Sari Krosinsky
Daily Lobo Columnist
