The Voice That Calls: Jewish Awakening in Our Time

Imagine being awakened at 4 AM by a voice calling you to something urgent, something that cannot wait for a more convenient hour. This is the essence of selichot – a voice that calls us from the comfortable darkness of spiritual slumber into the demanding light of self-examination and transformation.

It is the voice that calls upon Cain in Beresheet: מֶה עָשִׂיתָ? “What have you done?” Following the slaying of his brother Abel. It is the voice that called upon Avraham: “אַל תִּשְׁלַח יָדְךָ אֶל הַנַּעַר”, not to slay Isaac, and the voice that speaks with Moshe Rebeinu through the burning bush, ” והסנה איננו אוכל” revealing Gd’s name – אהיה אשר אהיה and the bush was not consumed. And finally, the Talmudic voice of Gd, the Bat Kol, serving as a means of communication and divine judgement in the post-biblical times.

The heart of selichot lies in one of Judaism’s most profound theological statements: the Thirteen Attributes of Divine Mercy found in Exodus 34:6-7. When Moses ascends Mount Sinai after the catastrophe of the Golden Calf, he encounters God proclaiming: “Adonai, Adonai, El rachum v’chanun, erech apayim v’rav chesed v’emet” – “The Lord, the Lord, God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness.”

Notice something remarkable about this text: it begins with the divine name repeated twice. Our sages understood this repetition as God calling upon God’s own capacity for mercy. Even the divine must awaken compassion. This suggests that mercy is not automatic – it requires activation, cultivation, conscious choice. In selichot, we invoke these attributes not merely to remind God of divine mercy, but to awaken mercy within ourselves and within the cosmic order.

The Talmud in Rosh Hashanah 16b teaches that on Rosh Hashanah, three books are opened before the divine throne: one for the completely righteous (tzadikim gemurim), one for the completely wicked (resha’im gemurim), and one for the beinonim – those who exist in the intermediate space between perfect righteousness and complete wickedness.

Most of us, the Talmud acknowledges, live in this middle territory. We are neither saints nor sinners, but complex beings capable of both goodness and failure. Selichot is the liturgical expression of this human condition. It speaks to those of us who inhabit the space between who we are and who we aspire to become.

This intermediate status is not a weakness to be overcome but a profound spiritual reality to be embraced. The Talmud in Berakhot 34b goes so far as to declare that “bimkom she-ba’alei teshuvah omdim, ein tzadikim gemurim yekholim la’amod” – “in the place where penitents stand, even the completely righteous cannot stand.” The very experience of recognizing our need for forgiveness and transformation elevates us to heights that those who have never fallen cannot reach.

The Threefold Path: Selichah, Mechilah, Kapporah

At the heart of selichot liturgy stands a powerful formula: Selichah lanu, mechilah lanu, kapporah lanu – “Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.” These three Hebrew terms represent ascending levels of divine response to human repentance.

Selichah derives from the root s-l-ch, meaning to forgive or wipe away. It suggests the removal of the offense itself, as if the transgression had never occurred. Mechilah, from the root m-ch-l, means to pardon or forego punishment. Even if the offense remains on record, the consequence is waived. Kapporah, from k-p-r, means to cover or atone. This implies not erasure but transformation – the sin becomes integrated into a larger narrative of growth and return.

Together, these three concepts offer a comprehensive theology of forgiveness that moves from erasure through mercy to ultimate transformation. They suggest that true forgiveness is not simply forgetting, but a process that can actually transmute transgression into spiritual advancement.

The Temporal Dimension: Why Now?

The timing of selichot is deeply significant. The Talmud in Rosh Hashanah 18a records a dispute between different Jewish communities about when to begin these prayers. Sephardic Jews traditionally begin selichot at the start of Elul giving themselves a full month of preparation, Ashkenazi Jews begin on the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, or earlier if Rosh Hashanah falls early in the week, ensuring at least four days of selichot.

Nonetheless this timing reflects the spiritual psychology of preparation. We need time to awaken from our spiritual slumber, to recognize patterns of behavior that require change, and to cultivate the emotional and spiritual readiness necessary for the Days of Awe. Selichot serves as a bridge between the ordinary time of our daily lives and the extraordinary time of divine judgment and mercy. A space and time beyond the world of below.

The Kabbalah of Dawn

The Zohar speaks of selichot in terms of it’aruta de-l’tata – “arousal from below.” In kabbalistic thought, divine mercy responds to human initiative. When we arise in the pre-dawn darkness to pour out our hearts in supplication, we activate corresponding movements in the divine realm. Our earthly awakening catalyzes heavenly compassion.

What happens down here, impacts what happens up there.

This concept transforms selichot from petition into partnership. We are not merely asking Gd for forgiveness; we are participating in the cosmic process by which mercy enters the world. Our individual acts of repentance contribute to what Isaac Luria called tikkun.

The Ba’al Shem tov, the founder of Hasidut, offered a beautiful reframe of the entire Elul experience through his interpretation of the month’s name as an acronym: ELUL stands for Ani L’Dodi V’Dodi Li – “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” from Song of Songs 6:3.

This transforms our understanding of the preparatory period. Rather than approaching Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur primarily as times of fear and judgment, the Baal Shem Tov suggests we experience them as expressions of Ahava elohit, divine love. Gd’s desire to judge us stems not from anger but from a loving concern for our spiritual development. Selichot becomes not desperate pleading but intimate conversation between beloved and beloved.

We gather for selichot in 5785 at a particular inflection point in Jewish history. Without reducing complex realities to simple formulations, we can acknowledge that global Jewry faces questions that feel both ancient and urgently contemporary. Questions of identity and belonging, of memory and future, of particularity and universality press upon us with special intensity.

In many ways, we find ourselves in a position remarkably similar to that of our ancestors throughout Jewish history – called to maintain our distinctiveness while engaging constructively with the broader world, challenged to preserve tradition while adapting to new realities, asked to balance loyalty to our people with commitment to universal human values.

The prophet Isaiah declares: “Dirshu Adonai b’himatz’o, kra’uhu bihyoto karov” – “Seek the Lord while God may be found, call upon God while God is near” (Isaiah 55:6). This verse appears frequently in selichot liturgy and speaks to the urgency of the spiritual moment.

The voice that calls us to selichot is the same voice that has summoned every generation of Jews to awakening and renewal. It called Abraham to leave his father’s house and journey toward an unknown promised land. It called Moses from the burning bush to confront Pharaoh and lead the Israelites to freedom. It called the prophets to speak truth to power and comfort to the afflicted.

That voice calls to us still, in our time, asking us to awaken to our responsibilities as inheritors of an ancient covenant and as participants in the ongoing work of healing our world. The selichot period offers us the opportunity for genuine teshuvah – a return to our truest selves and our deepest values.

BUT here’s the hook – we must choose. We must choose life over death, we must choose light over darkness, we must choose optimism over despair, and we must choose to be an active participant in ensuring better days ahead.

In Shakespeare’s words, we must choose “to be”.

As we approach the Days of Awe, selichot reminds us that awakening is both gift and challenge. It is gift because it offers us the possibility of renewal, the hope that we are not condemned to repeat the patterns of the past year. It is challenge because it demands that we take honest inventory of our lives and commit to concrete change. Requiring us to be conscious in our day to day, every minute of our lives, pealing off the barriers of distractions so that we may see beyond the material “things”, and we may know what is true. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel z’l once taught: “things when magnified are forgeries of happiness”.

The voice that calls us in selichot speaks with the accumulated wisdom of generations who have wrestled with the eternal questions of human existence: How do we live with integrity? How do we repair relationships we have damaged? AND in these times, how do we contribute to the healing of our broken world – and perhaps more importantly – our own people?

In our time, as in every time, these questions are both deeply personal and profoundly communal. The individual work of teshuvah that selichot invites becomes part of the larger work of tikkun that defines Jewish purpose in the world. And yet, with all the intention we build up towards preparation for these Holy Days, we have choices to make.

The Rambam, Moses Maidmonides, teaches in his hilchot teshuva:

 “רשות לכל אדם נתונה אם רצה להטות עצמו לדרך טובה ולהיות צדיק…ואם רצה להטות עצמו לדרך רעה…הרשות בידו…” (הלכות תשובה פרק ה’ הלכה א) – “Humanity is capable either of rising to noble heights or of falling into a life of sin – the choice is theirs.”

As part of the choices we make for ourselves, we must consider our community, our children, and by extension our future. Asking ourselves a question that transcends our own existence: What kind of ancestors will we be? Just as we look back, in awe, at our ancestors, thanking them for all the good they have done for our benefit, what will future generations say about us?

What will be the voice that we, our generation, projects into the future? What will they hear?

As we rise for selichot, we rise not just as individuals seeking forgiveness, but as links in an unbroken chain of a people who refuse to disappear, who have chosen hope over despair, who continue to hear and respond to the voice that calls us toward our highest selves and our deepest purpose.

Am. Yisrael. Chai. It’s not just a slogan, it is a way of life.