From Fear to Love: The Revolution of Chassidus in the Month of Elul

00:00 Shabbos Mevarchim Elul. The Frierdiker Rebbe says that on that Shabbos, the atmosphere already changes. A spirit of teshuvah is already in the air; the spirit of Elul is coming in. Especially this year, when Shabbos Mevarchim Elul is also the eve of Rosh Chodesh Elul. So let’s spend some time on the great transformation Chassidus brought about in the month of Elul. As we know, the Baal Shem Tov, followed by the Maggid of Mezritch and the Alter Rebbe—and Chassidus generally—brought about a real transformation in everything connected with the avodah of Elul. We all know that Elul is an acronym for “Ani ledodi vedodi li”—“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Those very words tell us that this is, in essence, a month of love. “Dodi,” “my beloved,” is a term of affection. The verse “Ani ledodi vedodi li” is from Shir Hashirim, and it speaks of the bond between Hakadosh Boruch Hu and the Jewish people, like a groom and bride. “I,” the bride, the Jewish people, draw close to my beloved out of love; and Hakadosh Boruch Hu, my beloved, draws close to the Jewish people as well—“to me”—out of love. So let’s talk today about this bond of love. Elul is a month for taking stock of our souls, and usually that kind of accounting makes a person feel bitterness, sadness, discomfort. Because when we begin to take stock, every one of us knows that not everything we did during the year was one hundred percent right—and sometimes that’s putting it mildly. When we know where we stand, what can we really feel excited or happy about? Yet the wonderful message of Elul comes and tells us: On the contrary—“Ani ledodi vedodi li.” Elul is a time of love, a time of closeness. That opens a window for us to understand the depth of teshuvah as revealed in Chassidus, and the depth of Elul as revealed in Chassidus. First

02:21 of all, let’s look at the word teshuvah as it is illuminated by the precious light of Chassidus. From there, we’ll move to a particular aspect of Elul that will give us the strength, the desire and the energy to enter into the avodah of Elul with joy. Regarding the word teshuvah, the Alter Rebbe tells us in Tanya that its meaning is simply “to return.” When we hear the word teshuvah, the first thing a person thinks is that it means regret. Teshuvah means feeling sorry for what I’ve done. But that isn’t the literal meaning of the word. Regret and teshuvah are two different words. The most straightforward, literal meaning of teshuvah—and also its deepest meaning—is to return. Return where? We’ve gone somewhere, and now we come back. The Alter Rebbe says that teshuvah means returning to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew is, in essence, always connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew has a neshamah. One of the things the Alter Rebbe explains so beautifully in the first part of Tanya is that every Jew has a second soul, a G-dly soul, which is literally a part of G-d above. So every Jew is, in essence, always close to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is our essence, our true self: the bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, the G-dly connection that every Jew has. What happens is that sometimes, over the course of the year, we drift away. Away from where? Away from ourselves, away from this bond that is our very essence. When the moment of teshuvah comes, it means returning and reconnecting, returning and restoring the bond. So teshuvah is returning to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, but on a deeper level, it is really returning to ourselves, returning to who we truly are. A Jew truly always wants to be bound and connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In fact, even before Tanya, this is stated explicitly by the Rambam. There’s a well-known teaching of the Rambam in the laws of divorce, where he says, regarding

04:46 this, that a Jew always wants to fulfill Hashem’s will, and if he sometimes says he doesn’t want to, it is his yetzer hara that has compelled him. In other words, the Rambam tells us that a Jew’s nature is to want to be connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew wants, in essence, to accept the yoke of Heaven. That is his nature, his natural place. But what happens? The yetzer hara attacks us, overpowers us, and sometimes forces us away from who we really are. So when a Jew is stirred to teshuvah, he is really returning to himself. He returns to his true self, to his true source. When we think about this meaning of teshuvah, it arouses tremendous joy in us, because it tells us that we were never truly far away. It tells us that we were always connected. Even when a Jew falls, drifts away, and finds himself in a state of sins, transgressions and wrongdoing—that is not who he is. It is something external, a covering that causes him to distance himself from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But who am I in my innermost essence? Literally a part of G-d above. Even now, as the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya, “Even at the time of sin, it remained faithful to Him, blessed be He.” A Jew is always connected, always in a relationship; in essence, he is always one with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Even at the time of sin, his neshamah cries; it does not want to be there. But we have free choice, and so sometimes a person chooses the wrong path. Even then, though, the essential bond never changes. It always remains. So teshuvah means returning to my true place, returning to my roots, returning to who I really am. With this in mind, we can understand the depth of Elul. “Ani ledodi”—“I am my beloved’s.” When we say that Elul is an acronym for “Ani ledodi,” it means that in Elul, a Jew awakens and reveals his true “I.”

07:07 Who is that true “I”? A person searches for himself: Who am I? Where am I? What is my “I”? Elul comes, and then it becomes clear that my true “I” is “ledodi”—I belong to my beloved. It is my bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, whom I love so deeply. “Vedodi li”—and my beloved is mine: Hakadosh Boruch Hu is with me too. In truth, we have been together all along. It’s just that during the year, everyone runs after their own concerns and gets caught up in everyday, material life. That has caused me to forget, or lose my sense of direction, so I no longer notice the bond within me. Elul is the time to awaken and renew that bond. In his famous maamar “Ani Ledodi Vedodi Li” in Likkutei Torah, one of the foundational works of Chassidus, the Alter Rebbe explains this through his famous analogy: the king in the field. If we look closely at the details of the analogy as the Alter Rebbe gives it in the original text in Likkutei Torah—which was prepared and printed by the Tzemach Tzedek, so its wording is precise—we find this: It is like a king before he enters the city. The people of the city go out to meet him and greet him in the field, and he receives them all graciously and shows them all a smiling face. Then anyone who wishes is permitted, and is also able, to greet him. The king receives them graciously and shows them a smiling face. That is more or less the Alter Rebbe’s wording in Likkutei Torah when he gives the analogy for Elul. He goes on to say that in Elul, we go out into the field to greet Him, blessed be He. So let’s look at some of the details of the analogy. They’re very interesting, and reflecting on them gives us a much deeper understanding and lifts our spirits regarding everything that—our role during the days of Elul. What the Alter Rebbe

09:43 He tells us there are two situations: the king in his royal palace and the king in the field. Of course, we are not talking only about location—whether he is here or there. It also tells us about the level, the manner in which the king is present. There is the king in his royal palace. Everyone understands that there he is surrounded by all his majesty, grandeur, splendor, and glory. The king is in the palace, with all its rooms and halls, all its luxury and wealth, and all the wonderful things around him. And of course, when you reach the king’s chamber, with the king’s throne, the ministers, the servants, and everything surrounding the king, all of this inspires awe, reverence, fear, and an overwhelming sense of self-nullification. That is the king in his royal palace. But when the king is in the field, it is not just that he is in a field. The king is also dressed for the field. The Alter Rebbe says so explicitly in one of his maamarim: when the king is in the field, he is also dressed in simple clothes. He is not wearing his crown and all his royal garments, with all his ministers around him. He is there in simplicity. The king is in a state of simplicity. And of course, when the king is in the field, that does not necessarily inspire the awe and reverence, the feeling and desire, that would move people to go and see him. The king is, so to speak, among everyone. But on the other hand, what does this message—that the king is in the field—tell us? What is a king doing in a field? His place is in his royal palace. Why is he in the field? Why did he come there? He came to the field because he wants to give all the people an opportunity to approach him easily. Of course, when the king is in his royal palace, it is not simple to approach

11:50 the king. You have to ask permission; you need special preparation and have to be in a particular position. You have to be someone special, one of a select few. Not everyone can reach the king; not everyone is admitted to the king’s palace—only certain ministers. But when the king is in the field, each and every person can approach him. There are no boundaries, no rules, no barriers, no conditions. Each person has the ability and permission to approach and come close to the king, and the king receives everyone graciously. Not only can you approach him; there is a feeling of joy. The king shows particular joy, a welcoming, smiling face, to anyone who comes forward and draws near to him. And of course, then it is much easier to approach him, come close, and ask for what you want. This, the Alter Rebbe tells us, is essentially the difference between the month of Elul and the month of Tishrei. Tishrei is a month of the Days of Awe, days of majesty. The king is in his palace. On Rosh Hashanah, we crown the king. So of course a Jew goes to shul with a serious frame of mind, in complete self-nullification, for the sounding of the shofar. We see how Jews customarily conduct themselves on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur: these are days of a different kind. The king is in his royal palace. The days of Elul, however, are ordinary days, as the Alter Rebbe emphasizes there. The days of Elul are weekdays. They are not holidays or days of celebration. Seemingly, they are ordinary days—but they are not ordinary at all. They are extraordinarily special. The Arizal already revealed to us that Elul is a time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed. In other words, during Elul, Hakadosh Boruch Hu draws especially close to the Jewish people, and every Jew has the ability to approach Him and come close to Him far more easily than during the rest of the year. This is the analogy of the king

14:06 in the field. So to speak, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is in a state of drawing close. He is dressed in weekday clothes, so to speak. What that means is that He draws close to where we, the people, are, without demanding special conditions of us. These are not Shabbos days or holy days. They are not days when we have to sit in shul all day, praying with a machzor. On the contrary, they remain ordinary days, the days of Elul. And yet we are told: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” During this month, you have the ability to come close to the king. You have to go out. Go out from where? It means leaving our usual routine of the whole year. Detaching ourselves a little from the material life and materialism of the whole year. Rising a little higher, drawing closer, wanting to accept upon ourselves the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven with love and joy. Wanting to come close to the king. Now, as we said earlier, this desire is not new. We have it all year, because a Jew is always aware, deep down, that he is connected to a king, that he is not alone, that our world is not a place without a master. A Jew knows that we are part of the Jewish people, and as part of this people, we have a King. We say it all the time in our prayers: “Our G-d, King of the world,” “King of Israel and its Redeemer.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the King of the world and the King of the Jewish people, and we are part of His people. When the Rambam speaks about the connection between a king and his people, he says: “The king is the heart of the people.” So to speak, the connection between a king and his people is like the connection between the heart and the body. The heart is the center of the body, its very essence. The whole body is connected to the heart. Every limb lives, moves, acts, and functions because it is connected to the heart. A healthy body is one in which all the limbs

16:28 depend on the heart, and the heart gives them blood, gives them the breath of life, gives them everything they need for the body to live, endure, move, and carry out all its activities. And this is essentially the connection of the entire Jewish people with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew knows that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is our King. We are His people. On Rosh Hashanah, we accepted upon ourselves the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven for the entire year. But what happens is that over the course of the year, as we said, the connection weakens a little, grows colder and colder. Daily life, worries, and distractions sometimes cause a Jew to forget who our heart is. Then Elul arrives, and the king comes into the field. The king draws close to the people. The king comes down to us and dresses in simple clothes so that it will be easier for everyone to approach him. Then this connection awakens—the connection to the “I,” the true self. Who is the true self? The true self is a Jew who loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu, wants Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and wants to accept upon himself the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven. After all, what is our name? Yisroel. The Jewish people. In the maamar Ani Ledodi, the Alter Rebbe says that Yisroel means “sar El”—El is our ruler. El is one of the names of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. “El is Hashem, and He has given us light”; “May Hashem shine His face upon you.” The name El is our ruler. That is what rules, what governs; in my life, the name El is my reality. The yud at the beginning of the name Yisroel—what does the letter yud add? The Alter Rebbe says that in Hebrew grammar, a yud at the beginning of a word can indicate something ongoing. Sometimes a yud indicates the future tense, and sometimes the present tense, but something continuous, present and ongoing. Yisroel says: the name El is always our ruler. What governs my soul?

18:49 Who rules over my body? Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And so a Jew always wants, deep down, to be connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the verse in this week’s parsha, Parshas Re’eh: “You are children of Hashem your G-d.” Children. A Jew’s relationship with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is, so to speak, like that of a father and son. The son is part of his father, and so the son loves his father. The bond between a father and son is an essential bond. It isn’t something that needs to be switched on. It’s there, always there. This connection between a Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu is like that of a child to a father. And as we’ve also discussed here, especially at this time, it is also the bond between a subject and a king, a servant and a king. A Jew has both of these things by nature. That is why, in the Rosh Hashanah prayers, we will say several times: “We are Your children and You are our Father; we are Your people and You are our G-d.” In the prayers we will often say, “Our Father, our King.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu is both Father and King, and we are both His children and His servants. Whether as children or as servants, that is our innermost essence. Over the course of the year, we’ve grown distant from our essence. Then the month of Elul arrives, and this time awakens us to reveal who we are and to connect with “my beloved.” That is the essence of teshuvah. At its heart, teshuvah means returning, coming back, drawing close to our innermost essence, to our inner identity. Who am I really? I am a child of the King. I am the child and servant of the King of Kings, Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The moment we come to that realization, to that understanding, we are already in the process of teshuvah. That is what these days are all about: recognizing our inner self. And at that moment, all the sins, transgressions, the ways we behaved that were not as they should have been—it all melts away; it all becomes nothing. Because when a Jew turns his face toward Hakadosh Boruch Hu, Hakadosh Boruch Hu turns His face toward the Jew. “Face to face Hashem spoke with you.” When there is that

21:12 face-to-face connection, then all the things that were not good are erased. All that remains is a bond of love: “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” whose Hebrew initials spell Elul. It is written in the sefarim that the final letters of “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” are four yuds. Those four yuds at the ends of the words add up to forty—the forty days from Rosh Chodesh Elul until Yom Kippur. These forty days are forty days of love, forty days of connection, when a Jew binds himself and reconnects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu draws close to each and every Jew. Then comes the great day of Yom Kippur, when the depth of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s love for the Jewish people is awakened. He erases and forgives us all our transgressions and offenses, and grants each and every one of us a good inscription and sealing, a good and sweet year in every respect, materially and spiritually. And so, when Rosh Chodesh Elul arrives, we begin to blow the shofar and to recite the chapter of Tehillim, “Hashem is my light and my salvation”—the chapter in which we speak of this closeness, of our wonderful bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. “One thing I have asked of Hashem; that I seek.” A Jew asks for one thing and one thing alone: I want always to be together with You, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And so, “Hope in Hashem; be strong and let your heart take courage, and hope in Hashem.” Hope, and hope again, that surely, already in the month of Elul, Hakadosh Boruch Hu will show us His face, His beautiful, smiling countenance, and give each and every one of us the finest blessings. May we merit, already this year, in this month of Elul, to see the light of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s countenance. May there be only good for the Jewish people, good that is visible and revealed. May each and every one of us merit a good inscription and sealing, a good and sweet year, both materially and spiritually, and may this month of

23:22 Elul be a month of complete Geulah with the coming of our righteous Moshiach.