When we returned to my mother’s flat after she died, her siddur was lying on the table where she always sat when she davened in the morning. The bookmark was at the Psalm 27 LeDavid, Hashem Ori veYishi – the psalm that is added to our morning prayers through the month of Elul. That was the last time she had been in her apartment.
It was my mother’s favorite psalm as it precisely described her relationship with Hashem.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
I’ll never forget the day I called her in her home in London and she said “Don’t worry I’m fine.”
I could feel my hear start to beat erratically. On the one hand I was speaking to her so I knew she was all right, but on the other hand that opening statement meant that something very worrying had occurred.
I was too scared to ask what had happened – I just stood there in my home in Jerusalem thousands of miles away and almost stopped breathing.
“Don’t worry – Hashem took care of me.”
The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
“Two men broke into my apartment last night – but when I threatened to call the police they ran away.” It appeared that they fled without harming my mother and taking nothing
When evil-doers came upon me to eat up my flesh…they stumbled and fell.
Does that seem a likely scenario to you? My mother ע”ה was over 80 – would her threats really scare away two burglars?
But that is what she told the police when they arrived and we can only be eternally grateful for the miracle that her faith merited. Her emunah and bitachon in Hashem’s protection was unwavering.
But why do we all say that Psalm through the month of Elul and many also say it until Hoshanah Rabbah?
From the Midrash and other verses in Tehillim we understand that in the first verse the word “Ori,” my light, is a reference to Rosh Hashanah and “yishi”, my salvation, refers to Yom Kippur .Later on in verse 5 there is a reference to Sukkot which ties the whole psalm to the month of Tishrei.
But there is more than just the verbal references. We are told that saying this psalm every day will help annul any evil decree against us. The psalm encapsulates the mixed emotions we feel as we move towards the Days of Judgement. And this year, probably more than ever before, we approach them with trepidation after experiencing a year of countless miracles but also unprecedented terror, bloodshed, fear and uncertainty.
The psalm opens with a declaration of our faith in Hashem’s protection. David’s total trust that Hashem will protect him. But as the psalm goes on David’s confidence seems to waver. In verse 9 David says “ Don’t hide Your face from me…don’t forsake me.”
In between the two conflicting emotions David expresses his wish to come closer to Hashem “All I ask is to be able to sit in the House of the Lord all the days of my life.”
This is how we feel as we approach Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. On the one hand we have faith that Hashem will save us, we all want to believe that we will be granted another year of life.
In order to ‘ensure’ that outcome we try and come closer to Hashem during the month of Elul which is known as the month of, mercy. We make resolutions to pray with more meaning, give more tzedakah, say ‘yes’ when asked to help even if we don’t feel like it.
And then we remember what happened last year so soon after those Days of Awe, just the day after we stopped saying this psalm…and suddenly our confidence plummets and we beg Hashem not to forsake us.
This year we have gone through 11 months of the entire gamut of emotions expressed in this psalm. Horror, fear, uncertainty, hope, relief, more uncertainty, rising hope, uncertainty and for many even despair.
Today, as I write these lines, after hearing of the execution of another six innocent hostages, we have no way of knowing what the future holds.
But we can understand why the last line is the only possible way to end the psalm.
Hope in Hashem – be strong and have courage. Hope in Hashem.
