Clergy Blog

At my college drop-off, it was an overcast fall, Minnesota day. We pulled up in front of my dorm and were greeted by some incredibly animated orientation leaders. I had not yet discovered coffee, but they clearly had. We got out of the car and before our feet even touched the ground, a group of 4-5 football players descended upon the trunk and started schlepping my duffel bags, mini fridge, and Target storage organizers up to my dorm room in Turck Hall. The Macalester football team was known as a record breaking franchise. From 1974-1980, they lost 50 straight games, and held the NCAA Division III record for most games lost in a row for 38 years. My dad was on the football team for one year in 1978, and along with me, is a very proud Macalester student athlete (but only one graces the NCAA recordbooks). 

My parents were only a two hour drive from campus, but despite the relative proximity, I was, for the first time in my life, on my own. There were so many decisions to make: What classes should I take? What time should I go to dinner? Will that person I just spoke to in the hall be a friend or someone I’ll never see again? At its best, college can expand one’s worldview, broaden one’s perspective, and be a laboratory of discovery. I started learning Hebrew in college, I met my rabbinic mentor, I developed a passion for Jewish life; in many ways my future was seeded in those four years. But college was not without its challenges: friendships, relationships, concerns about the future, impostor syndrome. Everyone on campus shared some unease about what came next - if you’re lucky to have a positive college experience, you’re not always ready to leave it. 

I was brought back to these memories this past week as I heard from many, in person and through the power of facebook, the stories of your most recent college drop-offs. Some of you have done this before; for others, this was the first moment of truly relinquishing a piece of your parental protection and placing that power in the hands of your now adult child and their campus leaders. This transition is an important one for parent and child alike, and a life stage, like so many, that we can anticipate but never fully prepare for.

This coming Sunday is the beginning of the month of Elul, the month directly preceding Rosh Hashanah. Lots of transitions are taking place in Jewish time as well. Our gaze now shifts to the holidays, to organizing meals and break fasts, planning our service attendance, and, if you’re me, dry cleaning a long white robe. Elul is a month built around preparation - but not just the logistics of the holiday - the preparation of our neshamas, our souls, in the hopes that we can regain access to our true essence and purpose during these High Holidays. Every day of Elul, it’s tradition to blow the shofar in the morning, our spiritual alarm clock. You’ll hear from us periodically over the next month as we all prepare for the holidays with short teachings and insights into this special time. 

As we mark this holy transition into the holiday season, only blessings of goodness and growth to all of those marking your various fall family transitions as well.

שמחים בצאתם וששים בבואם

May your departures by happy and your returns joyous

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Max Edwards