There is a dignity in autumn that precedes its arrival. Outside its still hot. Unprotected skin burns. Grass wilts, animals move slower. But in late August and early September, fall graces the sidewalks with her imminence. A single leaf descends, then four, then a scattering. The air grows cooler, crisper. The clouds deepen their colors. Everything is changing.
Personifying nature is an ancient trick that brings comfort and delight. Maybe an old man really exists in that cloud formation off to the right. We sense an odd clarity in the lengthening shadows. Parched senses dig new aesthetic wells. Everything is poised for change.
The Days of Awe have arrived early this year as did intimations of autumn. A trick of the mind? Perhaps. Still, twilight drops sooner. The days no longer stretch out like carefree youth. Even the heat is losing its endurance. Warmer clothes find themselves inside the washer after months of neglect. Just as leaves signal their turning, our consciousness turns to themes of repentance and renewal.
The Torah establishes when we observe Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur: the first, second and tenth of Tishrei, respectively. For some, it seems ironic that the Jewish New Year coincides with the onset of autumn. When nature begins to die we celebrate its creation.
Nonetheless, autumns timing with the High Holidays is no accident. A heightened awareness of our mortality intensifies our prayers for continued life. When the earth starts its slow descent into winter, life seeks its redemption as nature bodies forth its color and beauty. Its a stunning contradiction, and complement.
The late Shlomo Carlebach, in his song Return Again, urges us to return to the land of our soul. There is no better moment for returning than being surrounded by the autumnal whisper of the real world a magnificent sukkat shalom.
Copyright © 2010 by the Intermountain Jewish News
