When I was younger, I once read a picture book titled Peter Perfect. It’s about, well, a boy named Peter who was–obviously–perfect. (Picture books aren’t known for their subtlety.) He went around doing a spectacular job with everything, from household chores to his grades in school. And all of his friends (I guess? They don’t like him so much) started to complain that he does everything perfectly and that it isn’t fair. The twist came on the very last page, when suddenly the narration said, “If only you [Peter] were real!” and the picture showed Peter craning his neck to look at his back, which had a windup key poking out like in one of those old mechanical toys.

Peter Perfect was admittedly among my least favorite picture books, but the “nobody’s perfect” message it wallops the reader with actually feels pertinent this time of year. During the month of Elul and the ten days of Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, we’re implored to ask for forgiveness, to take a close look at ourselves and see what we need to improve on this year. It’s a challenging time for all of us, or at least for me–nobody ever really sees themselves as perfect, per se, but it’s hard to own up to your flaws and what you need to improve on.

Let’s say you’re having a terrible day. Your bus was late and then a good friend yelled at you and then you screwed up on some test or project. When you get home, you sprawl out on your bed, which collapses. (I know, that sounds like a sitcom.) It’s pretty much human nature to lay the blame on everyone else. The test was too hard on purpose; the teacher/boss wanted you to fail. Everyone else was ignoring you today, you tried to say “Hello” to people! The driver shouldn’t have had that phone conversation before he left, because it made him twenty minutes late. The bed company made a defective model and now you can sue them. You did nothing wrong, it was everyone else’s fault!

This is the type of thought process that goes through my mind sometimes. And dare I say that this is the type of thought process where I subconsciously see myself as…well, perfect, in a sense. I don’t see anything here as being ‘”my fault,” I think the blame goes to other people and that I did nothing wrong! I’m the good guy here and everyone else is the bad guy with the creepy music, right?

But then I start thinking a bit differently. I’m not the type of person who believes that God immediately smites people for their sins or something like that (I’ve never seen any lightning bolts strike out of nowhere). I believe that He does watch us and care for us, and it does concern Him when we do wrong. But–it was my dad who taught me this–I also believe that sometimes He gives us trials and troubles, not as a punishment per se but as a wake-up call. Hmm, maybe the bus was late to remind you that for the past few days, you’ve been talking a bit too much about other people sometimes, so then the driver was late because he was speaking to someone. Maybe your friend got mad at you partially because you’ve been having a bad temper to others lately anyway. Maybe you did badly on the test because you’ve been doing too much procrastinating and need to focus more on your priorities. And as for the bed? Try treating all of your stuff with better respect instead of just throwing stuff around!

Those four flaws–talking about others in bad ways sometimes, having too much of a temper, procrastinating to a bad extent, and not treating my property properly–are all things that I myself recognize as things I’ve done wrong, as four issues (out of many more) I need to stamp out of my character before it’s too late. The consequences I just wrote were theoretical, but they could certainly happen–which is why I want to recognize those flaws before I need the prodding. When I realize God is sending me some sort of wake-up call, I appreciate it, even if I only recognize it for what it is in retrospect. But I want to be able to figure out what’s wrong with me before He even needs to send me anything. This way, I can take control and truly improve on myself and my relationship to other people.

I mean, the classic idea behind our blowing of the Shofar is that the shrill sound it makes is our “wake-up call to repent.” And I believe that completely. But what I’m wondering is: whether at this time of year or all year round, can we send ourselves that wake-up call, that message that we need to change? Just by taking a closer look at ourselves, our lives, and what happens to us?

Shana Tova, everyone!

(By the way, none of you are hiding windup keys in your backs, right?)

Oren Oppenheim, age 16, lives in Fair Lawn, NJ and is a junior at Ramaz Upper School in Manhattan. He spends his free time writing and reading, and hopes to become a published novelist. You can email him at [email protected].

By Oren Oppenheim