We start to blow the shofar on Rosh Chodesh Elul. This is to awaken Within us that we will be judged on Rosh Hashana. We should start doing a personal accounting for our action of the preceding year.

Elul: Hearing the Shofar and Hearing Ourselves

This Shabbat, we enter the month of Elul, a month that invites us to pause, reflect, and prepare ourselves for the Days of Awe. One of the most recognizable customs of Elul is the daily blowing of the shofar.

Why do we blow the shofar every day?

One traditional explanation connects the shofar of Elul with Moshe Rabbeinu. After the sin of the Golden Calf, Moshe returned to Mount Sinai for forty days to receive the second set of tablets. During that period, the shofar was sounded throughout the camp so that the people would remember what had happened and not repeat their mistake.

There is a powerful message in that tradition: we hear the shofar so that we remember.

Human beings have a remarkable ability to forget. We can make a mistake, regret it, promise ourselves that we will do better—and then, with enough time, fall into the same pattern again. The shofar interrupts that cycle. Its sound says: Remember. Pay attention. Wake up. Don’t make the same mistake twice.

That is really what Elul is about.

There is also a common misconception about Rosh Hashanah. We often call it the Jewish New Year, but that isn’t quite accurate. According to the Torah’s calendar, Nisan is the first month, while Tishrei is the seventh. Rosh Hashanah is not the beginning of the Jewish year in the simple sense of the word. Rather, it marks the anniversary of the creation of humanity.

And that gives Rosh Hashanah its deeper meaning.

If Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of the creation of human beings, then it is a day when we ask ourselves what kind of human beings we have become.

That is why the shofar of Elul is so important. It prepares us for the process of cheshbon hanefesh, taking an honest accounting of our souls and our actions.

Where did I succeed this past year?

Where did I fail?

Who did I hurt?

What could I have done differently?

And perhaps most importantly: What am I going to change?

Judaism does not ask us merely to feel guilty. The goal is not to spend Elul beating ourselves up over our failures. The goal is teshuvah—returning, repairing, and changing direction.

And there is an important principle in Jewish tradition: before we ask God for forgiveness for the wrongs we have done to other people, we must first try to make things right with those people.

That means reaching out. It means saying, “I’m sorry.” Sometimes it means admitting that we were wrong even when our pride tells us otherwise.

And there is probably no more important place to practice this than at home.

We can be polite to strangers, patient with coworkers, and kind to people we barely know—and then sometimes take out our frustrations on the people closest to us. Our family sees us at our best and at our worst.

Especially our spouses.

As someone once joked, your spouse is the only member of your family you actually got to choose. Everyone else came with the package.

And sometimes we may look at our spouse and think, What was I thinking?

But all joking aside, the people closest to us are often the people who deserve our apologies most.

Elul gives us the opportunity to say: I know I haven’t always gotten it right. I know there were times I could have spoken differently, listened better, been more patient, or shown more appreciation. I’m sorry, and I want to do better.

Tomorrow’s Torah reading begins with the command to establish judges and officers. On one level, this is about creating a just society. But as we enter Elul, we can hear another message in those words: we also need to appoint a judge within ourselves.

We need to examine our own behavior.

Not to judge other people.

Not to keep a list of everyone who has wronged us.

But to ask ourselves:

Where have I gone wrong this year?

What relationships need repairing?

What habits do I need to change?

How can I become a better Jew?

How can I become a better person?

The shofar is a wake-up call. It doesn’t speak in words. It simply sounds—and asks us to listen.

Every morning during Elul, we have another opportunity to hear that call.

Don’t repeat the same mistakes.

Make amends.

Ask for forgiveness.

Forgive others.

Look honestly at yourself.

And then, most importantly, do something differently.

May the sound of the shofar awaken all of us during this month of Elul and prepare us for Rosh Hashanah—not simply as the beginning of another year, but as an opportunity to begin again as better, kinder, more thoughtful, and more purposeful human beings.

Shabbat Shalom.