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ADOPTED
By Rabbi David Walk

One of the familiar observances of Elul we encounter every year is the recitation of the 27th Chapter of the Book of Psalms. Like an old friend it greets us yearly with the advent of Elul. It's curious to note that this practice, although universal within our liturgy, is relatively new. The custom doesn't appear in the Shulchan Aruch, but is first mentioned by R. Chayim Cohen, a student of R. Chayim Vital, the greatest disciple of the Ari. That a 17th century innovation spread to all Jewish communities is nothing short of remarkable.

The recitation was encouraged by R. Shabtai of Rashkop (1788), who stated, "The words 'my light' (verse 1) refer to Rosh Hashanah, 'my salvation' (verse 1) to Yom Kippur, and 'He will protect me in a shelter'(verse 5) to Sukkot. All who recite this Psalm from Rosh Hodesh Elul until Simchat Torah, evening and morning, will be assured that his harsh and evil sentences will be nullified, and he will emerge innocent of all charges, defeating all prosecutors." The Chida (R. Chayim Yitzchak David Azulai) assures all chanters "success and protection".

What is there about this Psalm that it carries these blessings and significance? R. Shabtai himself offers the following suggestion, "On Rosh Hodesh Elul the 13 sources of water are opened for mercy, and it (the Psalm) contains God's name 13 times." This, of course, reminds us of the 13 attributes of Hashem that we recite during the Slichot prayers (IY"H I'll be writing about that in 3 weeks). That tenuous connection maybe is sufficient for the mystical amongst us, but doesnít explain the extent of the practice. We must look more closely at the Psalm itself.

The M'eiri states, "It appears that King David said this poem as a general prayer for help against his foes, and an acknowledgment of his faith in Hashem. And he admits no intent for power, victory, or pleasure, just an aim toward spiritually fulfillment and constancy in his service to Hashem." R. Ovadiah S'forno writes, "In this Psalm, he prays for deliverance from King Saul, and idolaters, and when he is amongst pagans he shouldn't learn from their actions." We need a more figurative approach, less specific.

This more general overview of the poem is provided by the Mosad Rav Kook edition.

"This is the poem of a man of God whose faith causes him to fearlessly face any enemy or evil, and all he wants in return for this devotion is to be close to Him. These longings are expressed...that he should merit cleaving to Hashem."
This is a worthy worldview. I can face life if I know You're with me. Please, be there for me, and I'll never lose hope. This is a viewpoint in keeping with the t'shuva theme of Elul.

There are others who say the connection to Elul is from the first word in verse 13, ëlule,í an anagram of Elul. The K'dushat Levi (Reb Levi Yitchak of Berditchev) says the key idea is in verse 4, "One thing I ask of the Lord, only that do I seek: to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life." Reb Levi explains that one needs constant appreciation of the fact that there is always another spiritual level to attain. He says that King David's prayer is to seek out a new step higher towards Hashem every day. That's our quest from Rosh Hodesh Elul through the holiday season to ascend higher each day, closer to Him.

I find meaning in all these approaches to understanding the significance of Psalm 27, but I find my inspiration elsewhere. Verse 10 truly speaks to me. "Though my father and my mother abandoned me, the Lord will take me in." Before I explain my point of view, I want to point out three explanations of parental abandonment. First, Rashi comments that when parents have relations they turn away from each other afterwards. A sign that the act is a selfish, pleasure-oriented one. Rashi is explaining that parents never wanted the child for its own sake, rather for their own purposes. For many parents a child is the mere result of their lust, or is viewed as a commodity. The abandonment is immediate. A pessimistic observation.

The Radak says children go off on their own at some point. The "abandonment" is the natural way of life after adolescence. The Ibn Ezra gives the most obvious and, I believe, the truest literal explanation. Parents may love you and help out as long as they can, but the way of all flesh is to pass away. All too soon parents die, leaving children bereft.

This last idea first was brought home to me in a Twilight Zone episode many years ago. I was probably about 12 when I first saw "To Sing the Body Electric" (Ray Bradbury, the author, was into Walt Whitman and the perspective of the robot. I would have called it "My Mother and Father have Abandoned Me" after King David from the viewpoint of the child.). It is about a robot company that provides very humanlike products to order. A widower orders a replacement mother for his children. The perfect nanny. One daughter refuses to accept the interloper. We find out her fear was of becoming attached to another mortal mom who would also die, abandoning her.

Well, the nanny is hit by a truck and bounces right back. The young girl is convinced that she has nothing to worry about. The nanny is immortal. This l'havdil is the message of Elul. Hashem is eternally there for us.

The world can be a cruel home. We often find ourselves in search of a haven from the storm. Hashem is that Haven. This is the true message of t'shuva. Forget about the fire and brimstone, 'Repent or God will strike you down!' T'shuva is about Hashem always being available to those who seek Him. Always.

Verse 11 begins with a plea to teach, guide, show us the way to Him. It's a beautiful sentiment, but the wording is a bit off. The word 'horeini' seems wrong. In Psalm 25, the words 'lamdeini' (teach me) and 'darcheini', (guide me) and 'hodieini' (show me) are used. They seem more appropriate than 'horeini', which I guess is best translated as instruct me. It seems too formal. It gives us the word 'moreh', or teacher. It also gives us the word 'horeh', parent. I believe a double entendre is in progress. We're not only saying 'teach me', but also 'parent me' or 'adopt me'.

By Rosh Hashanah we are reciting 'avinu malkeinu', 'our Father, our King'. Yes, Rosh Hashanah is about the coronation of Hashem as our King, but it's equally about taking out adoption papers to make Him our Parent. We universally and readily accepted upon ourselves the custom of reciting Psalm 27 during Elul, because we embrace its message. We so badly need an eternally vigilant Parent, who is only awaiting our call.

Comments, ideas, questions? Send Rabbi Walk a note at:rwalk@yhol.org.il

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