A little under two months ago, schools across Canada started for the year and I once again welcomed new students into my classroom. As an educator, September as a whole, and particularly the beginning of the new academic year, brings with it a fresh wave of optimism and opportunities. Many of us grow over the summer months and enter a new grade or begin at a new school with a new sense of identity and purpose.
Last June ended with many stories of success with my students, but simultaneously, there were a good number of them who – for a host of reasons – didn’t succeed in passing their courses. Some students rarely came to class, others chose not to complete work, still others had a combination of reasons for not making the grade. As much as I tried to work with each student individually and offer whatever support I could, at the end of the day, I’m a firm believer that students own their success (both in school and in life) and it’s a choice that only they can make – and they chose not to at that time.
The first day of school flew by, but one moment stayed with me long after the students left for the day – and it still does. Some of my students who didn’t pass my courses last year were in my class once again, taking the same course they were required to take last year as part of their high school diploma. Each of them had missed the mark in their own way, time after time, as the semester progressed, but here they were, ready to try all over again.
And it got me thinking: Why do we do what we do? Why do we work hard at things in life? And what happens when we miss the mark – the first time or the fifth time?
Starting Afresh
Rosh Hashana is known as the Jewish New Year, and like any new year, it’s an opportunity to start afresh. Akin to the month of September, the entire month of Tishrei acts as an island in time of renewal – so much so that we set aside 30 days before Rosh Hashana to focus on teshuvah, an introspective process of intimate self-awareness.
Teshuvah, often incorrectly translated as repentance, accurately means to return. It’s the act of looking at how far we’ve come, how we currently live our lives, and who we aspire to grow into as we journey forward. It’s far less about focusing on the mistakes we might have made in the year that passed as much as it’s about returning to the self we authentically are, which lies beneath those mistakes. For an entire month, as we prepare to enter the year ahead, we honestly look at ourselves, our values, and our talents, and ask ourselves whether our outer self accurately reflects what our inner self knows to be true. We ask forgiveness from others we may have harmed throughout the year, and also ask forgiveness from ourselves for how we might have treated ourselves.
Starting Again
Like the first day of school, Rosh Hashana comes and goes, and hopefully, we’re each able to experience its 48 hours in meaningful ways, while enjoying some delicious foods and quality time with family. Yom Kippur follows suit, but if we look through the prayer book of Yom Kippur, we’d rightfully think that we should celebrate it prior to Rosh Hashana. As intimate and as holy as our Sages describe Yom Kippur to be, we can’t help but notice the frequent statements of atonement that we recite throughout the day. Whether or not we directly participated in certain behaviors, as a community – and as a larger Jewish nation – we collectively confess our mistakes and ask G-d (and each other) for forgiveness.
So why do we celebrate the new year first? Why don’t we celebrate Yom Kippur’s cleanse immediately after our 30 days of teshuvah and then enter into the new year with a more realistic clean slate?
Because teshuvah isn’t something we do, it’s something we live. Unlike our other mitzvot, which largely consist of one-time acts, such as wrapping tefillin, or hearing the shofar, or waving the Four Species, or eating matzah – or any of our many other mitzvot – teshuvah is an ongoing evolution of self-discovery. We can always return deeper to our authentic selves buried beneath our many layers of defense mechanisms that we employ when we face the world around us throughout the year. Teshuvah is an experience we’re continually meant to engage with, and not just during the intensely spiritual moments of the High Holy Days.
As such, we immediately transition from the days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur into the busyness of preparing for the festival of Sukkot. We remove our white garments and our other freshly laundered holiday attire and go out into nature to build our sukkahs and collect and bind the Four Species, which we wave every day of Sukkot (with the exception of Shabbat). But making mistakes and navigating them gracefully is what makes us beautifully human. This is why we engage with teshuvah again on the final day of Sukkot, known as Hoshana Rabbah, before entering into the most joyous days of the year, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. As we near the end of our Tishrei festivals, we check in with ourselves again and try to reconnect with inner authenticity.
Living Everyday Life
After the fanfare of Tishrei recedes, life returns to normal and we fall into routine as we prepare to embrace the cold winter months ahead. We celebrate Chanukah in the darkest and coldest month, when we feel most distant from the inspiration that we once experienced during the days of Tishrei. When we kindle our menorahs, we check in with ourselves yet again and reconnect with the inner flame buried within us. It may be flickering ever so faintly amidst the surrounding snow and ice, but as we gradually add more light to our menorah each night of Chanukah, we steadily build up our personal flame as well.
And then there’s Purim, when we recall how we recommitted ourselves to our Judaism during our time in Persia, when cursed Haman attempted to annihilate our entire people in a single day.
Unlimited Returning
Teshuvah is built into our calendar at consistent intervals because it’s not a physical transition as much as it’s a cognitive one. We’re never truly distant from our true selves; it’s only that we become distracted by life as we go through our days and our vast array of external commitments and responsibilities. Each morning, we affirm how G-d (re)creates reality anew because even more than our opportunity to engage with the process of teshuvah throughout our year, we’re each given the blessing of returning to ourselves every single day.
Choosing To Show Up
And so, despite how many times my students skipped class last year or chose not to submit an assignment, the first day of this academic year was a new day – as was the day after that, and the next day. Each day is a new opportunity to choose who we want to be and the life we wish to live. Indeed, mistakes are a part of life, but yesterday’s slips don’t have to define us today and the life we choose to live as we journey forward.
And my students chose to show up.
