This is what the Holy One said to Israel:  "My children, what do I want from you?  I want no more than that you love one another and treat one another with dignity."
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                                                                                                 Tanna D'Bei Eliyahu
                                                                                                 A collection of midrashim/homiletic rabbinic literature

It turns out that everyone is going “all the way” with their own truth.  And despite the barriers, and despite the critiques, and despite the opposition and despite that it isn’t, perhaps, easy for you all to hear it, and perhaps this isn’t the most popular stance, and perhaps even you’ll think I’ve gone a bit crazy—but that’s it, I’m done being Mister Nice Guy; me and My Truth, this time, are going all the way.

From a sociological point of view, we’re speaking of a sensational evolutionary development: for many long years, people were cautious about expressing “Their Truths” — they were afraid they’d be made fun of, they’d be mocked, their values would be belittled — and they made do with some diluted Truth they picked up at Ikea or some faked remark they lifted from Electronics Warehouse [think Best Buy].  Whereas now it seems the cracks in the foundation have fused and they feel confident enough in themselves.  The era of shame is over, the era of Truth has begun.

[“My Truth”]… stands in absolute opposition to great, elevating truth in a way that requires no work or effort; there is no need to “know everything” in order to get close to it, just as there is no need to strip away layers of lies and peel off fragments of misdirection in order to lay it bare.

“My Truth” is cheap and accessible and is always close at hand—whether it be a belief, or a thought, or a characteristic.  It is simple and handy and immediate, and all I have to do is pick it up from the floor and give it public expression.  “My Truth” is popular precisely because it is lazy, irresponsible, and contains within it no general, principled outlook….just a general first “take” wrapped up in the trappings of bogus authenticity.

“My Truth” is also almost impossible to deny: if you’re not confident about it, it’s enough to post it on Facebook or send it out in a Tweet, and it will immediately be authenticated.  And even though that approval is issued for purely self-serving reasons —I’ll approve Your Truth in exchange for your approving My Truth — it acquires the power to destroy.  Since we’re not just talking about some passing thought or unfounded belief, now it’s acceptable to hurt others, to belittle others, to humiliate others: for, after all, you couldn’t expect that I would keep “My Truth” to myself and wouldn’t go with it all the way!
                                                                                                                         Alon Eidan, Haaretz Magazine, August 26, 2016
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Judaism speaks of thirty-six righteous people who populate the world.  Without these people, the world could not exist.  These righteous people, we're told, are hidden even from themselves.  They go about their lives in a fairly ordinary fashion.  They might be a store owner or a cashier in the local grocery store.  Yet their actions have a profound effect on the world.  They're not saints.  Our tradition does not claim that they're perfect.

But it does suggest that their lives are permeated by a passion for righteousness.  Who knows, one of the thirty-six may be sitting next to you right now, you'll never know.

Righteousness, then, is down-to-earth, accessible, and worldly.  The quintessential Jewish hero is not the saint, but the mentsch.  Righteousness is something for which we can all strive.  It doesn't demand perfection; it does challenge us to do good in humble and unassuming ways.  Whether we walk with God or before God, righteousness is a reminder to us that we recognize our role as servants who can fulfill God's will. 

Whether you strive to be a righteous person in the manner of Noah or in the
manner of Abraham, I say, go for it!  The Torah says: a righteous person lives by faith.  In the end, that's all we have--our faith in God and our faith in ourselves.  Maybe we ought to ask ourselves, "When we look in the mirror each morning, do we like the person looking back?"

That's the true test of righteousness!

                                                                                                                                                              Rabbi Mark B. Greenspan

Through faith, we experience the world; through action we give the world meaning.
                                                            
                                                                                                                                        Leo Baeck, The Essence of Judaism

Maya Angelou was interviewed by Oprah on her 70+ birthday.  Oprah asked her what she thought of growing older.  And, there on television, she said it was "exciting."
Maya Angelou said this:  "I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.  I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.

"I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same thing as 'making a life.'  I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.

"I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.  I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.  I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone.  People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

"I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.  I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
 
                                                                                                                      Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins, Rosh Hashanah Readings.

Fighting the languor of sultry days,
We begin the turning, back to You;
Moving against the heat of our hearts,
Against the anger inside, we turn.

Call us to begin the examination, Healing God;
Call for us to remove the garment of our deceit,
The fears that bind us away from You.
Chafing at our tender miseries.

In the month of Elul, we uncover our secrets,
Examining them with a truthful heart,
Counting the pulse beats of our life,
The selfish pressures we apply and resist.

Call us to the consultation of our souls,
For You are a God of healing and mercy;
Call us to being without delay,
That Elul might draw us near to You.

                                                                                                                                                 Debbie Perlman

At the age of 40, Akiva had not studied a word of Torah.  A shepherd by trade, no doubt he was intimidated by the rabbis of the academy.  How could a country boy such as he ever master the sacred text?  

Then one day, Akiva was standing by the mouth of a well.  He noticed that the water dripped out; and his gaze followed the drip to a bowl shaped stone.  He wondered aloud:  "Who hollowed out this stone?"  "Akiva," he was told, "haven't you read in the book of Job that 'water wears away stone?'  It is the constant drip of the water day after day, which created the hollow in the rock."

At that moment Akiva came to a realization.  "Is my mind harder than stone?"  he asked himself.  "I will go and study at least one section of Torah!"  He went directly to the schoolhouse, where he began to read with his son.  First the teacher wrote an alef and a bet, and he learned to read them.  Like the dripping water, he worked his way through the entire Hebrew alphabet, letter by letter. Then he learned the book of Leviticus, and finally the entire Torah and the Oral Law.  In the end, Akiva became one of the greatest sages there has ever been.

The story of Rabbi Akiva's beginning contains a great truth about life.  Our most significant accomplishments do not come about in one grand moment.  They are earned gradually over time, little by little.  If we were to try to accomplish our goals in one fell swoop, we would give up, thinking the task impossible.

Transformation requires patient determination.  What we need most is to be like Rabbi Akiva.  To look at the well of Torah and ask ourselves, "Am I harder than stone?"  Drip by drip, day by day, challenge by challenge, we can make ourselves over again, and release our spirits trapped in the stone.