Reflections on Elul

By Rabbi Natan Trief - Temple Sinai

This summer, I spent more evenings than I can count at the baseball field with my son. The games are actually much more exciting than I anticipated, but the countless practices were indeed a slog. On hot, humid evenings, with dust rising and sweat dripping, the fielding, batting, and exercises seemed so monotonous. And yet, I reminded myself that even though the excitement seemed to lie in the weekend tournaments, they were almost beside the point. Because championships are not won on tournament weekend—they're won during the long, ordinary days of preparation that no one remembers.

As we enter the month of Elul, Judaism teaches the very same lesson.

We think of the Yamim Noraim / the Days of Awe as the spiritual Superbowl. We imagine that we'll arrive on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur and suddenly feel transformed. But Judaism insists that meaningful moments require meaningful preparation.

In that sense, Elul is the mikvah of the Jewish year.

When immersing, we do not rush into a mikvah. Before immersion comes preparation: removing barriers, washing, untangling, making sure nothing separates the body from the mayim chayim, the living waters. The immersion itself lasts only moments, but those moments are profound because of everything that came before.

The Hebrew word mikvah shares its root with tikvah—hope. Both emerge from the root ק-ו-ה, reminding us that the gathered waters of the mikvah and the hope for renewal are deeply connected. Every immersion is an act of hope, a declaration that we are not forever defined by who we have been, but by who we can yet become.

So too with Elul. Every blast of the shofar, every moment of honest self-reflection, every difficult apology, every act of forgiveness is part of our preparation. We are slowly removing the barriers that separate us from God, from one another, and from the people we hope to become.

If you've never experienced immersion in a mikvah, perhaps this Elul is the perfect time. I did this a couple years ago, and it was the perfect reset to enable a transformative High Holy Day experience. What a blessing that Atlanta has MACoM—a sacred space where people mark transitions, celebrate new beginnings, and prepare their hearts for what comes next. The High Holy Days are our immersion. Elul is our preparation. To a sweet new year—may your path be clear, your spirit refreshed, and your possibilities ever flowing.