19 Elul 5785/September 12, 2025

On Fridays, we post two Elul Thoughts, out of respect for those of us who choose not to be online on Shabbat. We wish you a blessed and restful Shabbat and hope you continue finding inspiration in our Elul Thoughts.

Rabbi Laurence Malinger

This summer, I’ve been blessed to step away from my usual congregational role and serve full-time as an intern at a local funeral home. It’s been one of the most intense and meaningful experiences of my career. As we enter the month of Elul—a time for reflection and return—I’ve been thinking about the phrase makhloket l’shem shamayim—a disagreement for the sake of Heaven.

Planning a funeral brings families face-to-face with overwhelming emotions—and sometimes with difficult decisions. Where should the burial take place? Should the ceremony be traditional or more personal? Should a rabbi or cantor be present? Do we wait for everyone to gather, or bury quickly? Do we sit shiva? These questions often spark tension—not because people don’t care, but because they care deeply.

Over the years, and especially this summer, I’ve learned that even painful disagreements can be rooted in love. When we call it a disagreement for the sake of Heaven, we acknowledge that behind every opinion is a heart grieving, remembering, and trying to honor someone who mattered deeply.

I often tell families: you may not see things the same way, but you’re all here because you loved the same person. That love is sacred. That love is what endures. If we can listen to one another with kindness and humility, even in our pain, we can make room for healing—and for holiness.

May your choices bring comfort and may the memory of your loved one be for a blessing.

18 Elul 5785/September 11, 2025

Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker

Sometimes Rabbinic debates get really dark. In one of the more humbling, profound, and challenging debates, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai argue about whether or not God should have created people (Eruvin 13b). They argued for two and a half years over the merits and failings of humanity! Stop… Pause… What would your arguments be in favor? Against? 

And the side that wins out: it would have been better for us not to exist. Take that in for a moment. Whether you are surprised or not, whether you agree or not – what a devastating conclusion! 

The conversation continues with the understanding that we obviously do exist – so now what? In good Jewish fashion, our Rabbis offer two answers. The first is to closely examine our past actions. The second is to carefully consider our intentions and values. These complementary ideas speak to major aspects of the Yamim Noraim/Days of Awe. 

Let’s say we take this teaching to heart. God’s creation would have been better if there were no human beings. Collectively, we give in to our yetzer hatov/evil inclination too often and the whole world feels the consequences. And because we have been given this gift of life – because we are here… can we make our ancient Rabbis reconsider? Can I, can we, live our lives so that we are worthy of having been created? 

We won’t be perfect – we will fall short. And striving for “yes” – that’s our sacred struggle.

16 Elul 5785/September 9, 2025

Rabbi Ben Sharff

Sadly, so many of our dialogues and conversations, especially, but not exclusively to topics related to anything political and especially to Israel, there are now concrete perspectives that one side is the hero, and the other side is the villain. Unfortunately, with this line of thinking, it becomes very difficult to be in dialogue or relationship when your side is right, and the other side is wrong. Or even worse, when your side is the side of righteousness and the other side, is the side of villainy.

By making the villain out of someone you disagree with, it removes any and all possibility of understanding intent or for compassion.

What we cannot do is villainize each other especially if we do have the best intentions to advocate and support innocent people who are suffering. That we may disagree on methods and priorities does not mean ill intent. There is a lot of room for compassion and concern. It is just in today’s world, far too often, we are told we have to make a choice and pick a side as there is only one hero and only one villain, which in turn leads to more hate and intolerance.

The world is complicated and messy, and to minimize this, minimizes us all. For it is the moral certainty that creates heroes and villains. I encourage all of us not to be in that business. But instead, to lead with curiosity, and to be in the business of machlochot l’shem shemayim, arguments for the sake of heaven.

17 Elul 5785/September 10, 2025

Rabbi Deana Sussman Berezin

Making a Heart of Many Rooms

I used to love to debate – to challenge and to be challenged. I loved examining issues from different angles, turning them over through verbal sparring, allowing them to influence, change, or sharpen my perspectives. But, in recent months, I find myself retreating from debate, afraid it will become a battle rather than a friendly parry.

Ours is a world of polarization and mistrust. Against this backdrop, I continue to grapple with what it means to be in real relationship with others, even when they do not share our beliefs. How do we move from distrust and contempt into mutual respect?

In Judaism, we use the framework of machloket l’shem shemayim. But this concept, that we argue for the sake of heaven, only works when both parties come with deep respect for one another and a belief that more than one thing can be true.

The Rabbis of the Tosefta offer us guiding wisdom: “make for yourself a heart of many rooms,” whereby we can bring multiple truths into our many chambers and determine for ourselves what we believe, recognizing that there may be more than one truth.  

Engaging in debate can and should be for the sake of something higher and holier – for the sake of heaven. Holding space for multiple truths and becoming open and vulnerable enough to allow those truths to move us, does not make us weak and it does not mean we’ve lost the debate. Quite the opposite – it means that we’ve all won.

15 Elul 5785/September 8, 2025

Rabbi Simone Schicker

Throughout my life I have heard people say “but it’s a machloket b’shem shamayim!” The mixture of English and Hebrew has spoken to me since I was small – the insider language of it all brings a comfort that the full translation, “but it’s an argument for the sake of heaven!” does not. I believe the power of these words arises from their history as much as the meaning of the words themselves. We bring along the baggage, the comfort, the joy, and the struggle of over two thousand years of history when we share these words. We acknowledge that we are not the first, nor the last, who will argue in this way. We hold up our best selves when we stand for what we believe in, and when we acknowledge there may be more than one way to understand our tradition, our laws, our customs. We hold up our best selves when we remember that we are a people with a history of making noise, of not taking the first answer as the only truth, of fighting for what we believe is right. We hold up our best selves when we stand on the shoulders of our ancestors.

This day, and every day, as we walk through the month of Elul, may we find ourselves arguing machloket b’shem shamayim.

14 Elul 5785/September 7, 2025

Raymond Zachary

The Jewish principle of Makhloket l’shem Shamayim—argument for the sake of Heaven—teaches that not all conflict is destructive. When motivated by truth, humility, and a desire to serve something beyond the self, disagreement can be sacred. This idea offers a striking lens through which to consider the High Holy Days and the existential tension: Do the means justify the end?

Throughout our High Holy Day season, the liturgy leads us toward a spiritual “end” of a cycle—atonement, renewal, reconnection. But we don’t arrive through shortcuts. We go through Vidui (confession), Avinu Malkeinu (pleas for mercy), and Unetaneh Tokef (a trembling confrontation with mortality). The music that carries these prayers—solemn, raw, yearning—is not just background. It is the means, the emotional architecture that opens the heart.

Take Unetaneh Tokef, for example. The words confront us with who shall live and who shall die, but the melody—slow, mournful, and rising with urgency—models emotional honesty. It demands that we walk through our fear and self-examination with sincerity. Or consider Kol Nidrei, chanted three times in increasing intensity. Its musical progression reflects our own internal process: we don’t simply seek forgiveness—we become worthy of it through the journey.

Makhloket l’shem Shamayim reminds us that how we engage matters. Similarly, the High Holiday music teaches that redemption isn’t found in rushing to the end, but in sanctifying each step of the journey. In Jewish life, holy ends must be reached through holy means.

13 Elul 5785/September 6, 2025

Rabbi Glenn Ettman

Our Arguments, Ourselves: The Holiness of Being Wrong

Sometimes the arguments, disagreements, and confusions are as important as the text itself because we are challenged to find a deeper connection to harder experiences. 

Cain killed Abel. Jacob wrestled the angel. Joseph was thrown into a pit. Abraham was forced to choose between faith and his son. Moses had to summon the courage to return to Egypt. The Torah reminds us: life is not about ease, but about how we overcome it. Our path forward is shaped not by what happens to us, but by how we respond.

Elul invites us into a different posture; one not of certainty, but of humility. This season is not just about reaffirming what we know, but daring to confront what we may have misunderstood. In a world that celebrates being right, Elul gently asks: what if we’ve been wrong?

This is the wisdom of machloket l’shem shamayim—disagreements for the sake of heaven. These are not arguments to win, but to discover. Not about ego, but about uncovering enduring truths through honest inquiry.

Perhaps this is what Jefferson meant by “we hold these truths to be self-evident.” It is not that truth is obvious, but that it reveals itself when we search with integrity. 

Elul calls us to enter the new year not with polished perfection, but with open hearts ready to ask, to wrestle, to listen, and to become. This season gives us permission, and compassion to find our self evident truth and even admit we were wrong once in a while.

12 Elul 5785/September 5, 2025

On Fridays, we email two Elul Thoughts, out of respect for those of us who choose not to be online on Shabbat. We wish you a blessed and restful Shabbat and hope you continue finding inspiration in our Elul Thoughts.

Rabbi Eric Linder

It was a horse!

It was a mule!

Toward the beginning of Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye overhears this argument between two of his neighbors, and this scene is meant to introduce the Jewish way of conversation and argument.

And the truth is, I think that we treat most arguments like this, in the sense that I am right and you are wrong.

But most arguments are not so clear cut, and it would behoove us to realize that our debates and disagreements aren’t a sum-zero-game for one to win and another to lose. 

In our society today, we find it so hard to listen to others because they we think that they are “wrong” and that if they were “right,” it would make us “wrong.” 

I challenge all of us to instead look at our arguments and disagreements as a way to listen and learn, as opposed to a way to win or lose.

11 Elul 5785/September 4, 2025
Cantor Joanna Alexander

When disagreeing over cultural parts of life, as one might do over sports, movies or comics, disagreeing for the sake of comradery, for the sake of learning from others’ opinions, or even for the sake of trying to convince them, may feel like fleeting fun. When disagreeing over life and death, morality, ethics and the future of the world, it is often difficult to overcome an “us versus them” mentality.

Machloket l’shem shamayim asks one to stand in another’s shoes and acknowledge their perspective, empathize with the narrative while still believing in the rightness of one’s own argument.

When we argue for the sake of heaven, we know we deal with urgent matters of justice on this earth, matters which defy simple answers. But matters on which life and death may reside. And yet, even with such dire consequences we must be open to disagreement, we must seek where those disagreements can broaden our arguments, where they can strengthen our arguments, where they can help us expand our sympathies.

Our tradition asks us to “argue for the sake of heaven” not because we will solve the argument, or find THE answer, but so we will see the divine in the face of our adversary. So, we will know that the surety of our cause can be as disastrous to our people as the unconfronted implementation of “their” cause. When we keep heaven at the center of the disagreement, we cannot forget there is divinity in their opinion as well.

10 Elul 5785/September 3, 2025
Rabbi Alan Cook

I enjoy word games.  My daily routine includes about a half-dozen different word and letter puzzles, and I seek out other opportunities to play with words.  I enjoy writing, and spend an inordinate amount of time dreaming up puns (often to the consternation of others).  I’ve even considered trying my hand at being a cruciverbalist (a fancy name for one who creates crossword puzzles).

As a longtime aficionado of the New York Times daily crossword, I’ve always been fascinated by the way the puzzle constructors wrangle words into the grid in clever ways.  But it is the clues that they devise to assist solvers that truly fascinate me.

For a cruciverbalist, clues are key:  they need to have a variety of ways to refer to common grid-filling words such as “NAVE” or “OREO” or “EWOK” in a creative fashion.  One of my favorite recent clues used “Has to hurt?” to elicit the answer “MUSTACHE.”

Perhaps in our interactions with one another, we could learn something from these crossword creators.  As Plant and Page teach us, “you know sometimes words have two meanings.”  When something is said that surprises or upsets us, perhaps we would do well to consider whether we heard them in the same way that the speaker intended.  Let us speak kindly, and may any words which spark disagreement be offered in the spirit of a machloket l’shem shamayim.

9 Elul 5785/September 2, 2025
Rabbi Daniel Kirzane

Different voices in the Torah show different perspectives on truth. 

For instance, one description of Yom Kippur focuses on Aaron, portraying the high priest as the one who atones for the whole nation. “Thus he shall purge [וְכִפֶּר] the Shrine of the impurities and transgressions of the Children of Israel, for all their sins” (Lev. 16:15-16). The people are absent from this ritual performed on their behalf; Aaron is their representative before the Holy One.

Later in the same chapter, the text addresses us readers directly. “And this shall be to you a law for all time: In the seventh month, on the tenth day of the month, you shall practice self-denial; and you shall do no manner of work” (Lev. 16:29). Here, the people are involved in their atonement, committing their bodies and souls to the process of purification.

Can a priest or a rabbi, a parent or a teacher, a judge or a jury determine whether our repentance is complete? Can I speak for you and you for me, mutually implicated as partners in the project of redemption? Our texts offer us different views.

8 Elul 5785/September 1, 2025
Rabbi Rony Keller

Makhloket l’shem Shamayim is a disagreement for the sake of Heaven. It reminds us that not all arguments are harmful. The classic debates between Rabbis Hillel and Shammai weren’t about ego or winning. They were about seeking truth with humility and respect. That kind of disagreement is sacred.

As we enter the Jewish month of Elul, a time of reflection, that lesson resonates differently. This past year has been heavy. The rise in antisemitism has shaken us. And Israel, so central to our hearts and our people’s story, has faced unimaginable pain, pressure, and loss. We’ve seen fractures both inside and outside our community, and it has been challenging for us all.

Elul invites us to take stock, not just of our actions, but of our conversations. Have our arguments come from a place of love? From a desire to protect and uplift? Or have we let fear and frustration drive us?

Makhloket l’shem Shamayim calls on us to disagree with care, to stay rooted in connection even when we don’t see eye to eye. That is what Elul is for: returning to who we are and what we stand for with compassion, courage, and clarity.

7 Elul 5785/August 31, 2025
Rabbi Stephen Wise

This summer at Camp George I ran a program with my fellow faculty members with 11 and 12-year-olds about productive arguments. We use as the basis for our program the arguments of Hillel and Shamai, the most well known commentators in the Talmud who constantly disagreed.  The lesson was that while they might have not been able to agree on Jewish law, the Talmud records both their answers because their arguments were both valid: “ Eilu v’eilu”- this and that are honorable.  The campers were then to try and look at examples at Camp and so they debated the merits of different snacks from the tuck shop, Skittles versus potato chips, pop versus Gatorade. Then we debated activities at camp, water skiing versus high ropes course, arts and crafts versus pottery. We set up debates and allowed them to make arguments and present their case including rebuttals. At the end of the day they realized that we didn’t need to settle on one winner or the other, but that all the arguments were valid. Overall, what we wanted to teach was that whether it’s a summer camp or life they’re always going to be people who disagree with you. The point is that we need to validate other people while still expressing our opinions and understand that sometimes there can be merit in both sides. And there’s value in hearing each other and that all of our honest and thoughtful reasoning is valid.

6 Elul 5785/August 30, 2025
Rabbi Don Weber
Digital Divide

Before streaming music, before CDs, before cassettes, there was vinyl. Now, music lovers are embracing vinyl again.

No matter how high the sampling rate, reducing music to 1s and 0s can never preserve the richness of vinyl, because vinyl is analog. It doesn’t use bits and bytes, but instead the needle traces hills and valleys of sound. Sound from vinyl is never ON or OFF; it is a million variations and nuances per second, nonstop.

Digital conversations are no better than digital sound. RIGHT or LEFT, PRO or CON, RIGHT or WRONG leave no room for variations and nuance. Yet our society has pushed us into digital corners of us versus them, and the sound of our collective voices is less rich as a result.

Audiophiles know that analog music is richer, deeper and more alive than digital, and so are analog conversations. Hard-line “digital” positions leave no room for compromise, for meeting in the middle, because they don’t have a middle.

An argument for the sake of heaven does not require abandoning our beliefs. But it does require understanding the heaven – the holiness – on the other side. No matter how much we want to think it is true, “our side” does not have a monopoly on holiness, or on truth. 

In the year ahead, may we seek out the hills and valleys of ideas we see as foreign, that we may find holiness and humanity in the rolling, flowing music of the human mind.

5 Elul 5785/August 29, 2025
Rabbi Erin Boxt

As the month of Elul moves along, we are tasked with seeking out those whom we have wronged for forgiveness and granting forgiveness to those who we feel have wronged us. This is no easy task – yet, it is vital for us as we approach the holiest moments on the Jewish calendar: faced with our own vulnerability in front of God. There have been times in my life when I felt accused of committing an act against another which would require a sincere request of forgiveness. I am certain every one of us has, at some point in their lives, faced the same difficult moment(s).

What if we do not agree with what we are accused of? This will usually lead to a disagreement which could very well become heated and make matters even worse. What do we do when we believe we have been wronged and another disagrees with us? Arguments lead to arguments ad nauseum. If we turn to our sacred texts, we find there are two major types of debates/arguments: Makhloket l’shem Shamayim – an argument for the sake of Heaven & Makhloket Lo l’shem Shamayim – an argument not for the sake of Heaven. It is quite alright and expected for Jewish people (and all people) to disagree and even argue…as long as the arguments are from a place of love and growth, Makhloket l’shem Shamayim, rather than hatred and misunderstanding, Makhloket Lo l’shem Shamayim. Sacred, loving relationships with others is an absolute necessity.

4 Elul 5785/August 28, 2025
Cantor Jenna Sagan

Sacred Disagreement, Shared Song

What if the soundtrack to a disagreement could change the way we hear one another?

In this month of Elul, as we reflect, return, and prepare for the High Holy Days, I’ve been thinking not just about inner work, but about how we engage with others—especially when we don’t see eye to eye.

Judaism offers us the concept of Makhloket l’shem Shamayim—disagreement for the sake of Heaven. This is a form of argument that seeks understanding over victory, elevates rather than divides, and honors the dignity of every voice involved.

To aid in the exploration of this concept, I’ve created a playlist of songs that explore difference, dialogue, humility, and connection. Some are drawn from Jewish tradition, like Josh Warshawsky’s “Emet,” a powerful reminder that truth is often layered and complex—and that real understanding begins when we’re willing to listen for more than one voice. Others come from the secular world, like Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now,” a poetic meditation on perspective and growth.

May this music invite you to breathe deeply, listen fully, and step into the sacred space between voices—a space where something holy can emerge.

Click here to explore the Elul Playlist: https://tinyurl.com/elul5785

3 Elul 5785/August 27, 2025
Rabbi Bradley Levenberg

We live in a time of loud arguments. Social media rewards outrage. Cable news thrives on conflict. And, too often, disagreement becomes performance, something staged to signal loyalty, score points, or build a personal brand. That’s not disagreement for the sake of heaven. That’s disagreement for the sake of ego.

A makhloket l’shem shamayim—a disagreement for the sake of Heaven—is something else entirely. It’s not performative; it’s purposeful. The Talmud teaches that the debates between Hillel and Shammai endure precisely because they were never about winning. Rather, they were about learning. Hillel quotes Shammai’s views before his own. Shammai never questioned Hillel’s sincerity. Their arguments were passionate but respectful and always in service of a shared pursuit of truth.

Performative disagreement thrives in echo chambers, but real courage is displayed in sacred disagreement. It takes courage to listen. It takes courage to change. Perhaps most importantly, it takes courage to remain in relationship even when we don’t see eye to eye.

The difference is not how loudly we argue. It’s what we hope to build through the argument. If the goal is attention, it’s performative. If the goal is insight, it may be sacred.

Machloket l’shem shamayim doesn’t promise agreement. It promises something more enduring: the chance to grow wiser… together.

2 Elul 5785/August 26, 2025
Rabbi Alan Litwak
Car Colors

When I was a child, my mother bought a Volvo station wagon, after we got into an accident in which we had flipped over and over down an icy embankment.  Yet, what I really remember about the Volvo was its orange color.  She called it “tangerine” which only gives you a sense of its brightness. While I bemoaned being seen in that car, there was nothing about the color that made it run differently, more/less efficiently, or more/less comfortably.  In fact, the only distinguishing feature was that it could be distinguished from the sea of gray, black, and white cars in a parking lot.  While that might have been a bonus feature, my mother chose the color because “I liked it and it was going to be my car!”  She also wanted the safest car available.  Whether it was the color or the safety record, the car told a story about my mother. 

In life, we make decisions that reflect our personal history, our own sense of self, and even our feelings about the surrounding culture.  When we argue with others who have made different choices, do we take time to understand the stories behind their choices?  Is it possible that we are arguing over meaningless differences like car colors, or just for the sake of arguing?  Do we argue just to show our uniqueness? Our independence?

If we are going to argue, can we do so with the intention of seeking a deeper truth?

1 Elul 5785/August 25, 2025
Rabbi Laurence Malinger

This past year, I returned to school to pursue my Funeral Director’s license, a journey that has challenged and nourished me physically and spiritually. As Elul invites us to reflect and prepare for the New Year, I see deep connections between this season of introspection, Jewish ethics, and the sacred work of accompanying the dead.

Makhloket l’shem Shamayim, taught in Pirkei Avot (5:17), refers to disagreements rooted in humility and truth-seeking, not ego. Hillel and Shammai are our model—debating passionately but with mutual respect and for the good of the community. Elul mirrors this spirit, calling us to teshuvah and to mend relationships—with others and with God.

The funeral industry, steeped in grief and transition, often brings conflict—between families, with providers, or over religious customs. Disputes about burial, tradition vs. modernity, or faith vs. secularism can either be divisive or, when approached with care, serve a higher purpose. In these sacred moments, rabbis and funeral directors become mediators—helping transform grief-stricken conflict into compassion and dignity. Elul reminds us: death is a mirror, and funerals can prompt the living to reflect, forgive, and reconnect.

For those of us in this field, cheshbon hanefesh demands we ask: Are we ethical, fair, and honoring the dead with integrity? In the space between death and renewal, Elul and the funeral world intersect—challenging us to seek truth, elevate conflict, and walk humbly in service of something greater.