Start the Year Right: Do What You Can
- Rabbi Debra Orenstein
- Sep 9
- 4 min read
Updated: Sep 11

In these troubling times, many people are frozen by despair, living in denial, or just checking out. I get it. I’ve had those moments, too.
A steady diet of (real and manufactured) crises-du-jour can drive folks to watch the news obsessively or doom-scroll regularly through social media. Alternatively, we and our neighbors might take a prolonged “news fast;” escape through alcohol, drugs, food, or mindless entertainment; practice prayer and meditation; find “micro joys” with loved ones; or just hide under the covers. (Note: some of those choices are healthier than others.)
I am writing this column on the 10th of Av, the day following Tisha B’av, the communal day of mourning of the Jewish people. Tisha B’av recalls the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem and other tragedies and crises of Jewish history. It also highlights the causeless hatred and internal divisions that weakened us as a people and rendered us ripe for attacks from without.
I am sorry to say that this holiday should sound especially relevant to us today — as Jews, as Zionists, and as Americans.
Tisha B’av asks us to face the worst that has befallen us and then look within to ask, “What in my actions caused or contributed to this?” The ancient Rabbis summarize this stance of radical responsibility with the phrase: “Because of our sins, we were exiled from our land.” Don’t get stuck in blaming the Babylonians or the Romans — or any enemy. Their responsibility is … their responsibility. What is yours? What is mine? What is ours?
Usually, people understand the High Holiday season to begin on Rosh Hodesh Elul. This timing affords an entire Hebrew month for preparation before Rosh Hashanah begins on the 1st day of the next month, Tishrei. The period between the start of Elul and Yom Kippur is exactly 40 days. The number 40 traditionally signifies complete immersion. (Think of Noah enduring the flood or Moses communing with God on Mt. Sinai — each for 40 days.) The goal of these 40 days is to immerse ourselves in review, repentance, and repair.
I like to count the 10th of Av — the day after Tisha B’av — as the start of the High Holiday season. The countdown from that day to the beginning of Elul is also exactly 40 days. As Tisha B’av concludes, we put the narrative of victimhood behind us. During this 40-day period, we process the grief and regret, as well as the healing and empowerment, that emerge from embracing our own agency and responsibility.
Victimhood is not necessarily a false narrative. We have all, indeed, been victims. Liturgies for both Tisha B’av and High Holidays acknowledge this, and encourage deeper compassion for ourselves, our ancestors, and our neighbors.
But victimhood is never the full story. Tisha B’av acknowledges our victimhood, and also it demands that we see ourselves as more than victims. During the 40 days from Tisha B’av through Rosh Hodesh Elul, we accept the critique and consolation embedded in Torah portions of rebuke and Haftarah readings of comfort.
We face our agency, as well as our suffering.
The next 40-day period — from the start of Elul through Yom Kippur — builds on that hard-won acceptance of self-monitoring and responsibility. A year-review or life-review would have no usefulness for the future, if we did not first discern what is within our control now and admit how we have gone astray in the past.
On High Holidays, we aim to complete the difficult — and, ultimately, freeing — process of taking radical responsibility for the past year of our lives. Only by taking such responsibility can we own the power of choice and the power to change. We canalways change our inner circumstances and our outer responses. And, often, that leads to changes in outer circumstances, too.
All this is hinted at in the word אֵיכָה/Eicha - meaning “How?!” As in, “How could this happen!?” “How did we get here!?” It is the opening word of Lamentations, the biblical book read on Tisha B’av: “How [Jerusalem] sits alone, desolate!”
The same exact Hebrew letters also spell out אַיֶּֽכָּה/Ayeka, meaning, “Where are you?” This is the question that God asked after Adam ate the forbidden fruit and tried to hide in the Garden of Eden. “אַיֶּֽכָּה/Ayeka” is not a request for GPS coordinates. “Where?!”, like “how?!, is a cri de coeur.
Ayeka means “Where are you going with your life?!” Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz dubs אַיֶּֽכָּה/Ayeka “the language of calling.” He explains this one-word Hebrew question to mean that God is calling out to us, demanding: “Where do you find yourself? Stand up!”
Four identical Hebrew letters, in the same order, vocalized differently, mean two seemingly opposite things: Overwhelm (How?!) and Action (Where?!).
But I would argue that these are not opposite meanings at all. They are two necessary stages of responding to crises and sorrow. First, comes the understandable tendency to cry out and rail against suffering. “How can it be?!” Mostly, we are not seeking philosophical or theological answers. We are simply shaking a fist, feeling our feelings, and (hopefully temporarily) demanding the comforts of victimhood. A purely rhetorical “how” distances us from both from analyzing the original problem and from crafting solutions.
Once we have lamented “how?!” (and hopefully soon after that), we are able to ask, “Where have I been wrong? Where do I find myself now? Where can I make a difference? Where does my locus of control lie? Where and when will I choose to act?”
In the face of all the personal tragedies and communal horrors of 5785, each of us can choose to own our power and make a difference. We might choose to make a change in attitude, habit, or speech. We might exercise our agency through tzedakah, volunteerism, education, or advocacy.
What will you do?
(If you want to talk about that question, please reach out to me, and we can set a time to meet.)
The new choices you make in the new year will not change everything, but they will change some things. And, surely, they will change you.
Here is the key: It is not enough to know. You must act on what you know. As Rabbi Steinsaltz advises: Hear the call. Ask: “Where do I find myself?” Then, stand up and do what is in your power to do.
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