I get depressed when I don’t see the sun – so this past winter was especially difficult for me. As you might remember, it was rainy and in the forties well into mid-May. So when the sun finally did come out, I was thrilled. During my lunch break, I decided to go for a walk. I went past the front desk, out the doors, across the parking lot, and into the woods. I walked until I got to a place that opens up into a beautiful field. Then, noticing my break was almost over, I followed the path to return the way I came.

But something didn’t feel right. I was sure I was on the wrong trail. I took stock of where I was and where I wanted to go and found another path, but it didn’t feel right either. I was flooded with anxious thoughts: “Will anyone hear me if I call for help? Maybe I’ll be stuck here! What if I can’t find a way back? What’ll the headline in the Canton Journal say when I don’t return?”

Looking back, I was probably just a few hundred feet from the place I knew so well. I just couldn’t see it through the trees and underbrush! Every year, this happens to all of us in one way or another: we lose sight of where we’re going – even though some part of us knows it is not far. We lose our sense of direction. Sometimes, we even forget the godly qualities that are our spiritual and moral compass as beings created betzelem Elohim (in the Divine image).

Fortunately, our tradition gives us a powerful tool to find our personal north star again. Teshuva, classically translated as “repentance” literally means “returning.” It’s about making our way back. Through this lens, getting lost in the woods can offer us all a few lessons about what we need in order to make amends, and reconnect with our higher selves – the godly qualities in us that may have gotten schmutz on them over the course of the year:

First, trust your gut if you think you may have lost your path. As soon as I felt I had missed my turn, I stopped, and turned around. I could have just as easily forged ahead. When we miss our turn, so to speak, we often defend our actions. Commitment bias is the name for our tendency to let our past decisions and actions dictate how we behave now and in the future — even if we know we’re being irrational. Teshuva is the corrective, an opportunity to make a change after doing something that doesn’t feel right, a chance to acknowledge our error, and change course.

Second, once you know you are lost, think about the sign posts you need to confirm you’re going the right way again. When I got lost in the woods, I realized it was the sound of traffic on Route 138 that could guide me back. Following that sound, I found the path that brought me back to Orchard Cove. According to Jewish tradition we can always make our way home again. A Midrash teaches that the bat kol – the heavenly voice – never stopped speaking to us from Mount Sinai. If we attune ourselves to it, we can hear it calling us back to a Torah life, a life of wisdom and purpose. So we ask ourselves: what can I do now to come home to myself. Attend Shabbat services? Journal or make art? Meditate? Reach out to that person I love but, for whatever reason, have lost touch with?

I recently spoke with a friend of mine, Keith, about our college days. I told him I e-mailed someone we were friendly with as undergraduates. I felt like I’d been a bad friend for not staying in touch with her, but chose to reach out anyway. Even after 15 years, our friend was delighted to hear from me. She told me to call her anytime. Keith, now an Episcopal monk, said our relationship with old friends is like our relationship with God: many of us come to believe God doesn’t want to hear from us, that we’re, say, “bad Jews”. We often wait until we’re in a desperate situation to reach out. But the Psalmist counsels us: "Seek out the Source and you will find It / Call to the Divine Presence, and It will be close." When we decide to return, God, like an old friend, eagerly waits at the door to welcome us back home.

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There is a poem called “Lost”, by David Wagoner. The poem sounds, at first, like it is about a walk in the woods. But if we listen carefully, it offers a wise set of instructions to anyone who gets lost on the course of life. After I lost the path, and tried to return, the words of this poem came to me. The poet writes:

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you

Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,

And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,

Must ask permission to know it and be known.

The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,

I have made this place around you.

If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here….

Stand still. The forest knows

Where you are. You must let it find you.

So, during this season of awe, may you be still and listen for the bat kol, the inner voice that is always calling you toward the path home. When you feel lost, may you remember to take a moment to think about the sign posts you need to find in order to know you are on the right path. During these holy days, may you open your heart to the raw power of this season to find you, to reflect back to you the wisdom, compassion and generosity inside of you, and let it guide you back in the direction you truly want to travel.And let us say: Amen.