Today is the second day of Creation, when G‑d created the skies:
G‑d said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the water, and let it be a separation between water and water.” G‑d made the expanse, and it separated between the water below the expanse and the water above the expanse, and it was so. G‑d called the expanse Heaven, and it was evening, and it was morning, a second day. (Genesis 1:6–8)
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The Selichot ("supplication") prayers are recited in the early morning hours, before the morning prayers, in preparation for the "Days of Awe" of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
Links: More on Selichot
As the last month of the Jewish year, Elul is traditionally a time of introspection and stocktaking -- a time to review one's deeds and spiritual progress over the past year and prepare for the upcoming "Days of Awe" of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur.
As the month of Divine Mercy and Forgiveness (see "Today in Jewish History" for Elul 1) it is a most opportune time for teshuvah ("return" to G-d), prayer, charity, and increased Ahavat Yisrael (love for a fellow Jew) in the quest for self-improvement and coming closer to G-d. Chassidic master Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi likens the month of Elul to a time when "the king is in the field" and, in contrast to when he is in the royal palace, "everyone who so desires is permitted to meet him, and he receives them all with a cheerful countenance and shows a smiling face to them all."
Specific Elul customs include the daily sounding of the shofar (ram's horn) as a call to repentance. The Baal Shem Tov instituted the custom of reciting three additional chapters of Psalms each day, from the 1st of Elul until Yom Kippur (on Yom Kippur the remaining 36 chapters are recited, thereby completing the entire book of Psalms). Click below to view today's Psalms.
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Elul is also the time to have one's tefillin and mezuzot checked by an accredited scribe to ensure that they are in good condition and fit for use.
Links: More on Elul
There are things that are important to us, so we speak about them.
There are things so important to us that the words flow out in a burst of emotion, rich words, expressive and vibrant.
And then there are things that shake us to the core. Things that do not care for the mind’s permission or for the right words—for the mind cannot fathom them, the most poignant words could not contain them. Things that can only break out in a cry, in a scream, and then in silence.
This is the sound of the shofar: The very core of our souls crying, “Dad! Don’t leave me here alone!”