Rosh Hodesh Elul. The second posting of my blog. This morning, I participated in a conference call with Barack Obama about healthcare. Me and a thousand other rabbis. Still, it was pretty thrilling. The President, and the rabbinic speakers who followed, made reference to Unetaneh Tokef, that dramatic (if rather chilling) prayer we recite on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. You know, the one that asks "Who shall live and who shall die? Who by fire and who by water?" and includes a long list of possible calamities. Scary, sobering stuff. Listening to that prayer, we imagine our future hanging in the balance, our fate decreed, signed and sealed on those Days of Awe.



Except.



The crescendo of the prayer/poem is the declaration that teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah - repentance, prayer/reflection and righteous/charitable acts - can soften the harshness of the decree.



God doesn't decide it all for us. Of course, life happens. And we all get sick and die. But we have a role to play as well. We are God's partners.



I didn't get so unhealthy overnight. And I didn't just suddenly start neglecting myself. It happened little by little, in response to pressures and crises. And in response to some good impulses, too. The desire to help and support others, to be a good mother, wife, daughter, rabbi, teacher. Now I want to be another kind of role model, though. One who pays attention to her own precious life. Who doesn't squander the blessings of health. Who attempts to soften the harshness of the decree.