Elul Day 29

Dear Elul Writers,

I have never made miso. I have fermented all sorts of items from kombucha to sauerkraut, but somehow I’ve never tried my hand at fermenting soy bean paste. It is not a matter of ingredients; I am always looking for an excuse to go to H Mart. Instead, it is a matter of timing. Baking a sourdough takes about a day from start to finish. My kimchi is ready in a little less than a week. Beer and mead take a little bit of time, but they are ready to drink in a month. Miso, on the other hand, is about a year-long process. I’ve never felt like enough of a planner to undertake a culinary project that spans the seasons. What if we move? What if I’m not vigilant enough about watching out for mold? What if the whole damn thing falls apart?

Maybe it is my appreciation for short-term transformation that has always drawn me to Elul. These twenty-nine days, we’ve spent together, feel like a nice amount of time to gather the ingredients, to mix things together, to watch change begin to bubble up and take hold. A day, a week, a month–these measures of time have always felt doable to me, within my reach. Yet, as of late, I am recognizing in myself a desire to stretch my eyes a little farther toward the horizon; to see what change looks like on a longer term scale. If I once had a fear of planning six months or a year ahead, I am now considering how such forethought might be liberating.

Today I took the plunge; I bought soy beans, rice koji and arajio natural sea salt. I feel ready for miso. I am thinking about who I will be not next week or next month, but eleven months from now when, God-willing, we will meet again. Let’s not be afraid, as Rosh Hashanah arrives, to imagine all the changes that might be possible in a whole year.

Prompt

On this final night of Elul consider how you want to feel a year from now. Don’t get bogged down in what specific goals you might have accomplished or not accomplished, but, rather, imagine what contentment and presence and spiritual groundedness might feel like. In a year, what miraculous transformation might have taken hold? What small but significant change might have bubbled up?

Each year I note the yahrtzeit of my beloved grandfather, Neal Nierman, on the 29th of Elul. This Elul project is dedicated to his memory, which continues to be a blessing in my life and the life of my family. He may never have eaten miso, but he did love a wedge salad and a hot dog sandwich. And, most importantly, he loved learning Torah. I can’t imagine a better inheritance.

Shana tova,
Jordan