Rabbi's Message

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, specifically in the first verses of Deuteronomy 22, we read about the mitzvah of hashavat aveidah -- returning something that has vanished from its owner. The Sefer HaHinukh, an anonymous work written in 13th century Spain, explains that the mitzvah of hashavat aveidah is particularly noteworthy because we all lose things sometimes. It is a sign of being human, after all.  However, I would like to suggest that this mitzvah is really about losing things that are at the core of who we are.  We all go through times when we have misplaced our energy or when we can’t find the capacity to execute something we know is important. We all go through times when we feel vulnerable as we try to live our best lives in the face of challenges. When this happens, we can end up losing ourselves and wondering what we must do to “find” ourselves again.

And so, the Torah gives the mitzvah of hashavat aveidah and teaches that if someone finds a lost object, he/she must hold onto it as long as the other person might still be seeking it. The Torah says, “And this you do for anything lost that has disappeared from your brother – you may not pretend that you don’t see it.”

This is an important message year-round, but especially now, during the month of Elul, leading up to the High Holy Days. Hashava shares the same Hebrew root as teshuvah.  We often translate teshuvah as repentance, but even more, teshuvah is about reorienting our lives, redirecting, and returning. This is the time of the year for turning or returning to that which we have lost.  Finding and returning to that which is essential, that which we cherish, and that which we love.
We have lost a lot this year. In Israel, the loss has been almost too much to bear, from loss of life to a loss of a sense of security to a loss of trust in leadership and how best to rebuild.  And here in America, too, we have experienced loss over the last number of years: a loss in civility, a loss in unity, a loss in respect and decency.  And the loss does not stop on the national or even communal levels.  We as individuals all have things that we are searching for; aspects of our lives that feel depleted or even absent.  

And so, as we journey towards Rosh Hashanah, may we each take the time to ask: what are we missing?  What have we lost and what are we searching for? What happened to our sense of hope, of love, and of joy?  By asking these questions and probing our souls, may we do the work of Elul, both as individuals and as a community, that will allow us to say that we are ready to search together.  And please God, I pray, may we all find that which we are looking for.