*Ten days of Soul Reckoning | Maya Tevet Dayan | 6 Minutes on Friday | September 26, 2025*
On the first morning of the new year we woke early and went on a walk to watch the sunrise over the sea. We’re in Greece now, and the sun rose above the beach near us, facing east. Just before the sun came up, everything was red and orange, as if there were no chance at all for light, and then the light simply appeared. I hoped it was a kind of reminder that even when things seem hopeless, the light will come.
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In any case, I thought of New Year’s celebrations in other countries we’ve lived in, each in its own time: Canada on January 1st, India, in the middle of April, days of great color, gifts, sales, celebrations until morning. And in contrast, I remembered someone who wrote to me last week on Facebook, that in the ultra-Orthodox family she grew up in, as Rosh Hashanah drew near, the anxiety and fear grew stronger. Worry took the place of joy. Parents and children walked around in dread. Dread of what? I asked her. Dread of what? And she reminded me that Rosh Hashanah is the opening note of the Ten Days of Repentance, the Days of Awe, God’s close and precise examination of your deeds, your atonements, and accordingly—your future, your fate.
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I had never thought of Rosh Hashanah as frightening. Perhaps because I grew up in a secular family, I reduced the fear to one day, Yom Kippur, and even with that day I made my own private negotiation with God, so that we both would get through it in peace. But this year, because of that reader who was once ultra-Orthodox, for the first time I considered the fact that ten whole days lead up to Yom Kippur. And that nowhere else I’ve lived, in no other culture I’ve known, has anyone demanded of themselves such a long stretch of self-reckoning.
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I tried to think of something, anything at all, that I do for ten straight days outside of routine. A ten-day trip abroad is considered by most people to be quite a long trip. A ten-day course is one we might not even have time to sign up for. Ten days of a diet, or ten days of juice fasting, or ten days of meditation - that’s a lot! Even the writing retreats I lead in Greece last eight days, and that already feels long, eight days right in the middle of life. By contrast, when we sit “shivaa” for seven days it feels like complete rupture, so very long. And ten days?
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Then I read a bit and learned that during these days, God is a little closer to the world. And that while it is always good to repent, to strengthen faith and deeds, during these days it’s a kind of double discount—every act of repentance becomes turbo repentance, stronger, better, sounding better in God’s near and attentive ear.
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I also learned that some people regard these days as instant repair - ten days in which you can swiftly fix all the sins of an entire lifetime.
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Some suggest choosing a theme in these days to focus on for the whole year ahead, as a kind of spiritual direction: to be more ethical, to approach relationships differently, to commit to meditation or prayer.
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Some say that during these days a person is more important in God’s eyes than even His angels.
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And some say the Ten Days of Repentance are like an amplifier button: if you sinned during the year, now in these ten days it is enough just to think about that sin to be forgiven. Or, conversely, it is enough during these days to offer the tiniest shred of good intention, and that intention will be fulfilled.
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So I thought about the people of “Am-Israel”, this small and very peculiar people we belong to. And how one could think of the Ten Days as frightening, tormenting the soul - who even wants to sink into self-reckoning for so long? It can truly feel unpleasant and scary. But on the other hand, I thought how beautiful the idea is that emerges from these ten days about God. Imagine if God were a store. Do we know any store in the world that runs a sale for ten consecutive days? A sale in which every dollar is multiplied hundreds of times, so that with just a few dollars you can buy your forgiveness? A store that so badly wants to sell that it literally whispers into the ear of the buyer, walking with him just to close the deal?
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I thought of mega-store sales that run ten days or more: Ikea, or iHerb’s annual birthday celebrations. And I realized: the God of the Ten Days of Repentance is simply looking for ways to extend His sale. The Yom Kippur Sale. Not just a single day, not just a weekend of discounts, not just a week of “buy one get one free” - but ten whole days of special offers. And that thought instantly brought a smile to my face. Because what does it say about us? People who imagine their God with such earnest, almost endearing qualities must themselves be very earnest and endearing people.
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In any case, this was the way I felt I could live at peace with the Ten Days of Repentance. With the people’s high demands of themselves. With the world’s high demands of us—so disproportionate compared to demands of other nations. And perhaps that is as it should be.
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And these people need a God who is generous, a bit excessive, a “crazy manager special,” an endless forgiveness sale. Which brought me back to a conversation I had this year with my dear friend, the poet Iris Eliya-Cohen, which also led me to write this poem that feels tailor-made for today’s reflections, for our situation, for the possibility we face in this situation:
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*Iris says it can’t possibly get worse* / Maya Tevet Dayan.
The hatred from outside, from within,
the fear of death, even her housekeeper
turning psychotic, its’ madhouse, she says,
we have never been lower than this.
And what about the Holocaust? I ask.
Yes, she agrees, that was indeed very low.
But look, she sighs, here we are again
at the bottom of the pit.
Maybe this is what redemption looks like? I suggest.
I heard some medium on Facebook say so.
I don’t think so, honey, Iris says sadly.
According to that theory redemption
should already have come after the Holocaust,
after the Crusades, the expulsion from Spain,
the destruction of the Temple. And anyway, she adds,
how is it that once again we’re stuck
searching for redemption? I mean, really,
how much redemption can one small nation bear?
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That’s the poem. And I’ll end with an invitation to Hebrew writers to write with me and to enter the new year with inspiration, study, and a writing routine. My “Writing Together” sessions take place on Zoom, half an hour in the morning or evening, whichever you prefer. I bring beautiful poems for inspiration, writing prompts, and also feedback and principles of craft. It’s a blessed routine that sustains many of us in these times, and it also supports dozens of women whose partners are serving in the reserves, as well as families of wounded soldiers. I’d love for you to join. Participation is at a very symbolic cost, and if your hand cannot reach it, write to me and I’ll happily include you free of charge.
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May we all be sealed for a good year, and Shabbat Shalom.
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*Maya Tevet Dayan*