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As the High Holidays approach, once again I am reading S.Y. Agnon’s Days of Awe. As much as the book means to me, though, the person who gave it to me means more.

In theory, no one wants to be that person who can’t let go, who refuses the request for forgiveness. But is it really possible, or even right, to forgive everything?

Earlier this week, we marked the first day of the Hebrew month of Elul when it is customary to take stock of our actions and behaviors in an effort to do better in the year to come.

Aside from a date, what can these two events possibly have in common? Strange as it may seem, there are a few points of comparison.

To prepare for the High Holidays this year, I did what any rabbi would do: I went undercover as an Uber driver.

When people ask me what prompted me to become a rabbi, I often tell them about my love of Jewish learning, or Israel, or a desire to help, or some such noble pursuit. The truth is, what really prompted me to become a rabbi was Chuck Taylor sneakers.

Every year for 30 years, I’ve sat in a temple sanctuary on the High Holidays and watched a movie. It’s a movie only I can see – flashbacks of all the times I recall over the past 52 weeks when I didn’t measure up to the standards of my head, heart, and soul.

Last year, my rabbis asked me to give a speech on Yom Kippur afternoon about creating a day of ultimate tranquility on the "Sabbath of Sabbaths." I expressed my