The Secrets of the Month of Elul - Rabbi Shaul Silam shlita

00:02 Speaker 1 You’re listening to “Lema’an Yishme’u,” a podcast of Machon Halacha Chabad.

00:09 Speaker 2 So, today’s topic—the halachic topic for today—is the king in the field. Now, this is so important that it simply takes precedence over everything else. It’s a subject we think we know, and everyone is familiar with the parable of the king in the field and all that, but often we know it only on a simple level. I’d like to look at the whole parable in light of many sichos and maamarim of the Rebbe. Everyone knows that it all starts with the fact that Elul is an acronym for “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” We also know that it’s a verse in Shir Hashirim, and that there’s another verse, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” These two verses represent two movements, two seasons of the year. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”—“my beloved” is Hakadosh Boruch Hu. There’s a love story here between the Jewish people and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The two grew distant because of the sins of the Jewish people, and now they’re drawing close to each other again. In Elul, “I am my beloved’s”: I’m the one who takes the first step. Then “my beloved is mine”: Hakadosh Boruch Hu intensifies all that longing. And “My beloved is mine, and I am his” is the direction of Nissan, when we’re like a newborn baby, with nothing of our own to start with. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the one who begins the whole process. This recurs every year: suddenly the plants bloom, and spring itself invites teshuvah without much work. It’s automatic. These things are clear and familiar. But when you speak about this, the king in the field is there in the background, because if we mentioned that parable a year ago, two years ago, three years ago, it gets a little confusing. After all, with the king in the field, he’s the one who takes the first step. So what’s the difference between Elul and Nissan? We say, “I am my beloved’s.” How am I going toward my beloved? The king is the one who comes out to the field.

02:15 Speaker 2 Right, so we’ll come back to that. But before we do, it’s important to know that this idea of “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”—a step that I take and a response from Hakadosh Boruch Hu—also appears in the writings of the Arizal, in the Zohar, and in the words of our Sages, but each time in completely different terminology. They complement one another. Behind the Chassidic expression “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”—it’s also found in the teachings of Reb Nachman of Breslov, but this is the Chassidic expression—there are several other expressions, three more, that complete the picture. In the writings of the Arizal, the same things are expressed in different words. There it speaks of mayin nukvin and mayin duchrin. There are mayin nukvin and mayin duchrin: mayin nukvin are “feminine waters,” and mayin duchrin are “masculine waters.” There’s the water that evaporates and rises upward—“And a mist rose from the earth.” That movement from below upward is mayin nukvin. Then there’s the condensation of the water, the rainfall, and that’s mayin duchrin. So what does that add? “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”—what it adds... Perhaps I should... Chronologically, although this is the last expression, we have the Zohar and our Sages, then the Arizal, and afterward Chassidus, with “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” and everything it develops from that. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” gives it a framework of love. It’s something amazing. It’s like perfume. It’s completely different, and we know that. It’s completely different from the whole concept of Elul in a Litvish or Sephardic approach, or whatever it may be. Here, right in the title, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” is a love story. That’s what stands out.

04:22 Speaker 2 In the writings of the Arizal—and again, it’s not that one is preferable to another. There are four things here that complement one another, with no opposition or contradiction. What’s added there is the idea of a cycle: the water doesn’t just rise and fall; it rises again afterward, and falls again. There’s the law of conservation of matter: the water that existed at Creation is the water we have today. It’s the same water, rising and falling each time. So there’s something like an endless mechanism here, and that isn’t expressed in the other formulations. Perhaps a little in “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” because we know there’s also “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” But here it’s very prominent. The Zohar’s expression is an awakening from below that causes an awakening from above. It’s the same idea, but what’s added there is the element of work. When we hear “an awakening from below,” we understand: wow, there’s a dimension of work here. It’s not just some love story—peace and love. No, no. There’s something here that demands a lot of work, an awakening, and that doesn’t happen by itself. Behind “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” lies all this history. And in the language of our Sages in Tractate Yoma, there’s an expression: “A person sanctifies himself from below, and they sanctify him from above.” This brings in the idea of something beyond all comparison. A person sanctifies himself—but how much can I sanctify myself by not eating this piece of food here, or the cookies here? There’s tea, sugar, and cake here. So how much sanctification can that bring? It’s not such self-sacrifice. But what Hakadosh Boruch Hu does in sanctifying him from above is something amazing. Hakadosh Boruch Hu sanctifies the person. You hear that and think, wow: “A person sanctifies himself from below, and they sanctify him from above.” You see? Who is doing the sanctifying? Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So we understand that, essentially—

06:15 Speaker 2 And this brings us back to “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” We understand that “my beloved is mine” is beyond all comparison to “I am my beloved’s.” When I put it in the terminology of our Sages—“A person sanctifies himself from below, and they sanctify him from above”—we understand that there’s no comparison. So all these ideas stand behind “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Before we get to the heart of the matter, I want to add one more introduction, and it’s very, very important. In that maamar of the Alter Rebbe on Parshas Re’eh, with the parable of the king in the field, there’s a very basic idea that gets a little overlooked. The Alter Rebbe says: Elul is “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Then he says: “I am my beloved’s” is Elul; “my beloved is mine” is what Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives us in Tishrei. That’s already a slight shift, because before, you said that “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” is all Elul. Now you’re saying that “I am my beloved’s” is Elul and “my beloved is mine” is Tishrei. How does that work? In fact, these two points both fit together and help you understand that in Elul you already have the potential for “my beloved is mine.” In other words, although “my beloved is mine” actually comes in Tishrei, it’s connected to Elul, and the more you do in “I am my beloved’s,” the more “my beloved is mine” will follow accordingly. Then the Alter Rebbe explains—and this is very important—that what we’re going to experience in the coming weeks is like going to a casino and playing for the whole pot. Elul is a casino. We’ll soon see why. And we’re going to a casino where you win—you can see the chips. What’s at stake here is all the potential for awe of Hashem, for love, and for joy throughout the year. The game is now, right now. Because the Alter—

08:20 Speaker 2 Rebbe says this: the Alter Rebbe says that the flow of awe for the entire year is drawn down on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. And the flow of love, and also of joy, for the entire year comes on Sukkos and Simchas Torah. That lasts for the whole year, and the work is now, in Elul. In other words, what I’ll draw down for the year. So the idea is this: I work now; in Tishrei, Hakadosh Boruch Hu deposits those things in my bank account. All the awe, all the love, all the joy. Then, throughout the year, I have cash available to withdraw. I can’t go into overdraft. I can’t withdraw more than what I deposited in Tishrei, and what I deposit in Tishrei depends on the work of Elul. So everything, everything, everything is contained in what we’re about to do now. And this is almost explicit in the Alter Rebbe’s words.

09:25 Speaker 3 So it’s a casino?

09:26 Speaker 2 Exactly. It’s a win-win casino, a casino where we only ever win. Okay, a nice kind of casino. Okay. Now, another very important point, and here I want to read something from the Alter Rebbe. After introducing “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” and before the parable of the king in the field, the Alter Rebbe introduces something that sounds rather Kabbalistic. We’ll try to translate it into more Chassidic terms and understand what the Alter Rebbe is saying: “It is known that Elul is the time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed. But this needs to be understood: Why are they weekdays and not Yom Tov, like Shabbos and Yom Tov, when there is a revelation of G-dliness, a radiance of His G-dliness?” Okay, what is the Alter Rebbe saying here? Before we explain, I want to make a slightly technical point. We’ll get to the Chassidic picture in a moment; we’re just going to talk a little Kabbalah for a minute. But first, there’s something else worth knowing: What are the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy? Someone who knows the subject might say, yes, they’re mentioned in Tractate Rosh Hashanah. It’s the passage in Parshas Ki Sisa: “Hashem, Hashem, G-d, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in kindness and truth.” But if you count the words, there are more than twenty. So what exactly are the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy? All the Rishonim discussing this in Tractate Rosh Hashanah wrestled with precisely that question. There’s the approach of Tosafos, the Rosh and Ibn Ezra; the approach of Rav Nissim Gaon; the approach of the Maharal of Prague; the approach of Sefer Chassidim, by Rabbi Yehuda HaChassid; and the approach of the Zohar, the Arizal and Chassidus. That last one is what I’m going to describe now. Just know that there are five approaches. Some count “Hashem, Hashem” as the first two attributes. Some

11:30 Speaker 2 count “slow to anger” as one. Others count it as two. We’re not going to go through every approach; that’s not the point. I just want to clarify one specific detail, and then we’ll close this parenthesis and translate it into Chassidic terms. We talk about the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy without necessarily knowing what we’re counting, so let’s at least have a technical way to remember them. According to the Arizal, the Zohar and Chassidus, we don’t count “Hashem, Hashem.” The count begins with “G-d, compassionate and gracious.” Now, some expressions have two words, and according to our approach, “slow to anger” really does count as two: “slow” and “to anger.” They are two distinct attributes. All of these express different forms of Hashem’s love, His compassion and, so to speak, His patience—things in that family. We could go into each one and define it; Rashi and the Rishonim do that. But that’s not the point here. I just want us to know how they’re counted. The two-word expressions that count as a single attribute are only “abundant in kindness,” “preserving kindness” and “forgiving iniquity.” Once you know that, “Hashem, Hashem” doesn’t count. Then: “G-d, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in kindness and truth.” “Preserving kindness for thousands” is also one, followed by “forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, and cleansing.” That brings us to thirteen.

12:56 Speaker 4 What are we counting?

12:58 Speaker 2 Yes, right—from the Zohar and the Arizal. Anyway, I’ll close that parenthesis. Now I want to understand a little of what the Alter Rebbe means. What are these Thirteen Attributes of Mercy in Chassidic terms? To explain, I’ll put it this way. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is kind, and He is also mighty, and many other things as well. But our Sages say that we should emulate Hakadosh Boruch Hu. They don’t say, “Just as He is mighty, so you should be mighty.” Right? They say, “Just as He is merciful, so you should be merciful. Just as He is gracious, so you should be gracious.” We count only the qualities on the side of kindness and mercy, not those of might. Why is that? Because the innermost essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu—think of a parent. A parent sometimes does things that call for great strength. But strength is something a little more practical; it isn’t the innermost essence. The innermost essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu is mercy alone. That’s important to know. Yes, might exists in Hakadosh Boruch Hu too. But when you look at His innermost essence, you don’t find might there. His innermost essence is the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy. And so, when we say—and this is important; now we’re getting to the Chassidic point, not the Kabbalistic one—that the Attributes of Mercy are revealed in Elul, in other words, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is now opening up and revealing His innermost essence. That’s the idea. And this leads to the Alter Rebbe’s very powerful question. Look at what he says: “But this needs to be understood: Why are they weekdays and not Yom Tov, like Shabbos and Yom Tov, when there is a revelation of G-dliness, a radiance of His G-dliness?” What does he mean? He’s saying this: The Arizal’s statement

14:50 Speaker 2 that Elul is a time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed is an enormous innovation. You don’t find it much in Eitz Chaim; the Arizal says it there, but it’s rare. What do we know from the Zohar and from the Arizal’s Shaar Hahakdamos? That Yom Kippur, Shabbos and Yom Tov are times when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed. True, we don’t recite the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy on Shabbos, but that’s a separate matter: We don’t pray for personal needs then. The attributes are nevertheless revealed. Yes, on every Shabbos, every Yom Tov, all the festivals and Yom Kippur—that’s... Right. Absolutely. Kabbalah teaches that Shabbos, Yom Tov and Yom Kippur are times when the Attributes of Mercy are revealed. Why? Because, as the Arizal and the Baal Shem Tov explain, the world is elevated at those times. When the world is elevated, there are fewer and fewer concealments of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and more of Hashem’s innermost essence is revealed. If Hashem’s innermost essence is the Attributes of Mercy, you can see how these things go together: the world is elevated, there is closeness to Hashem, and the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed. They go together. And that is precisely the Alter Rebbe’s question. He says: Hold on, Arizal—you’ve introduced an enormous new idea here. You’re telling me that Elul is a time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed? That’s strange. If so, why do we work during Elul? And why do we say Tachanun? When the world is elevated, it rises above our sins, and we no longer need to occupy ourselves with physical things and work; that’s why labor is forbidden. Hakadosh Boruch Hu takes care of those things. We really are forbidden to work. Why? Because the world has been elevated. So if you tell me that the Attributes of Mercy are revealed in Elul too, why do we work during Elul? Why isn’t it

16:45 Speaker 2 a month of Yom Tov? And why do we say Tachanun as well? After all, the world has been elevated. It’s like Shabbos. That is the Alter Rebbe’s question. To answer it, the Alter Rebbe brings the parable of the king in the field. And that’s something we sometimes forget, because we take the words out of context so often. When we speak with people we’re bringing closer, we say, “Elul is the parable of the king in the field.” Yes, but we have to understand that the parable of the king in the field comes as an answer to this question of the Alter Rebbe’s: How can you say that the Attributes of Mercy are revealed in Elul, while at the same time we still say Tachanun and still work? That was the question. Before we answer it—yes, it’s not so simple. The Alter Rebbe brings the parable to answer a question, but the parable is so enchanting that we forget the question. And nobody stops to ask, “Wait a minute.” You sometimes see this when testing students on Gemara. There are good students you can test on it. A student may understand the Gemara: There’s the Gemara’s question, and he can tell you exactly what the question means. There’s also the Gemara’s answer, and he can explain that too. But there’s one thing he doesn’t know—and you could say this is true of most students: How does the answer address the question? If you haven’t understood that, you haven’t understood anything. You’ve mixed things up. There’s a question and there’s an answer, but if you don’t understand how the answer addresses the question, you haven’t understood anything. It’s the same here. However beautiful the parable of the king in the field is, if you don’t understand how it answers the question, then you haven’t understood the text. Right. Okay. Now, what is the parable of the king

18:32 Speaker 2 In the field? Let’s look at the parable and try to understand. Everyone knows it. How does it answer this question? No, it isn’t simple. The Alter Rebbe brings it to answer this question: “But this can be understood through a parable of a king. Before he arrives in the city, the townspeople go out to greet him and welcome him in the field. There, anyone who wishes may go out to greet him, and he receives everyone graciously and shows everyone a smiling face.” And if I’m not mistaken, that’s at the beginning; afterward, to go inside, you need permission. Okay, it’s a wonderful parable. Elul isn’t some peak of two thousand degrees Celsius where you’ll be cooked if you don’t do teshuvah. It’s wonderful. You come, and you haven’t even done teshuvah yet. It’s only the beginning of Elul, and you think you’re going to meet the king. The king—what about all the sins you have from the past year? You think you’re going to get an earful, and suddenly Hakadosh Boruch Hu is smiling. It’s wonderful, truly wonderful, and a lot has been said about it. But wait a second. What does this have to do with what we said before? Can you tell me how this parable answers our question? It seems completely unrelated. We asked: Alter Rebbe, you’re telling me that Elul is a time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed. If so, I ask: I know that the revelation of the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy is a sign that the worlds have been elevated. It’s like Shabbos and Yom Kippur and everything else, so that should be true in Elul too. If so, why do we say Tachanun in Elul? And why do we work on ourselves in Elul? Yes.

20:07 Speaker 5 An avodah that comes from above, from below—you’re coming at it from the side. What are you trying to do here? We have our own avodah, right?

20:18 Speaker 2 Yes, yes, all of that is true, but where does the answer appear in the parable? Or, in other words, why is Elul really like this? You’re telling me it’s a time when the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed, yet the world hasn’t been elevated.

20:41 Speaker 5 That isn’t the idea.

20:46 Speaker 2 Yes.

20:48 Speaker 5 It’s the opposite: we’re waiting. We don’t do anything there in the Geulah.

20:53 Speaker 2 So that really is the direction. The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy mean there is closeness to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. As we said, the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy aren’t just another phenomenon. It’s the innermost aspect of Hashem being revealed. So how does it usually work? When do I feel that? When the world is elevated, you draw closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu and feel it. That’s closeness to Hashem. But in Elul there’s something very special that doesn’t happen during the rest of the year. All year, closeness to Hashem comes only if you rise higher. In Elul, there’s closeness to Hashem even without your rising higher, because Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes down. That’s why you have both things. We’ll also see the problems this can create, but because Hakadosh Boruch Hu has come down to the field, He has drawn close to you. So the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy are revealed, because, as we said, that depends on closeness to Hashem. There is closeness to Hashem because Hakadosh Boruch Hu has come to you, right? That’s why you have this revelation, but you still say Tachanun and do all those other things, because the world hasn’t been elevated. There’s a maamar in which the Rebbe says this can be very misleading, very misleading. I’ll talk about the problem before we talk about the sweetness. When a person starts doing even a little work in Elul—because if he doesn’t work, he won’t feel that sweetness—he starts to wake up a little. Wow. In Elul, once you start moving a bit—we’ll see what happens when you don’t start—but wow, there’s help from Heaven and there’s sweetness, and you feel like that’s it. I’ve arrived. After all, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is revealing Himself to me so much, and it really is within my soul. I feel it. There’s what you might call a confidence about teshuvah. Not every time a person

22:32 Speaker 2 tries to do teshuvah during the year does Hakadosh Boruch Hu give him the feeling that his teshuvah has been accepted, even though it is accepted immediately. No, no—but that inner feeling that it really works that way, we can’t be given that so easily. In Elul, you do have it, and that can be very misleading, because you’re only beginning the work. It’s Elul, you’re just starting, and right away you’re on a high. Then you might pat yourself on the back and think, wow, this sweetness! Look, I’ll read from Hisvaaduyos, the Rebbe’s farbrengens, volume 14. It says there: “In Elul, Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes to each and every Jew, and each and every Jew can present Him with his request, as stated in Likkutei Torah. But this means that when the king is in the field, greater caution is needed. Since a person remains in his own state, and nevertheless the king comes to him and accepts his request—and, what’s more, shows him a gracious face—he may mistakenly think it’s good to remain in that same state. The proof, he thinks, is that the king came to him while he was in that state.” You see? Everything’s fine. So just so we know, that’s a little warning light. It’s true. Okay, we’ve answered the question. The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy really are revealed, and yet the world hasn’t been elevated. Why? Because Hakadosh Boruch Hu came down, and that brings the sweetness. But be careful. Okay, we understand that. Now there’s another question we really have to ask. Just a second—this may be the most important question in the class. Here it is: we said earlier that Elul is “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine,” but now you’re saying, wow, how does the whole process begin? With the king coming to the field. So that’s “My Beloved is mine, and I am His.” That’s exactly

24:25 Speaker 2 like... Seemingly, He took the first step, right? So what’s the difference between this and Nissan? What does “My Beloved is mine, and I am His” mean? If... right? Do you understand the question? It’s an absolutely fundamental question, and without answering it, we haven’t understood anything about what happens in Elul. This is the question. Any ideas?

24:49 Speaker 6 There was no expectation that the Jewish people would do anything. They wanted to [unclear], and that’s why He came to them [unclear].

24:57 Speaker 2 Here too, here too. You know, but that doesn’t solve it. If Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes in Elul in the same way, then just as in Nissan it’s quite natural for me to return to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, it’s natural in Elul too. What’s the fundamental difference?

25:13 Speaker 7 Because you do need at least a little work of your own, in our [unclear].

25:20 Speaker 2 Okay, I’ll say something along those lines. Wow, that’s what I wanted—okay, that’s exactly the point. The Alter Rebbe goes on to explain that there are actually three areas. There’s an inhabited city, there’s the field, and there’s the desert. We’ll explain them in a moment. The inhabited city is our mitzvos; it’s holiness. The desert is our transgressions, and the field is our ordinary service of Hashem in everyday life. We’ll also explain why. Of course, all of us have all three. We all have many mitzvos, and some mistakes, and good things in everyday life in between. But what matters more is our mistakes. In other words, a person already davens three times a day, puts on tefillin, lights Shabbos candles, and... okay, that’s already routine; we’re okay with that. Those aren’t the things we need to fix. Maybe refine them, yes, but what interests us is our desert. That’s what we want to transform. Okay, so what is the desert? The Alter Rebbe says: Why is the city the mitzvos? Because it’s called an inhabited city. The place where... right? A dwelling is where Hakadosh Boruch Hu settles, and when He settles, you’re making a home for Him, essentially. When He settles, He draws closer to the world. The inhabited city is the place where I give Hakadosh Boruch Hu a place to dwell, through Torah and mitzvos. On the other hand, I have my desert. In the haftorah a few weeks ago, Yirmiyahu says the desert is the place “where no man dwelt.” “No man dwelt there.” “Man” means the Complete Man, Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is the place where there really is no room for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Those are your transgressions. It’s the emptiness within you. And the field is everyday life lived for the sake of Heaven. Now, when the Alter Rebbe says that the king comes

27:27 Speaker 2 To the field. This is super, super important. He doesn’t come—it’s not Sukkos and it’s not Pesach. On Sukkos, you’re uplifted. You just walk into the sukkah and—wow. You surely feel that you need to do teshuvah. On Pesach, too, the atmosphere draws you in. But in Elul, there’s no automatic “wow.” It’s an ordinary month if you don’t know the secret of the King in the field. Because if you’re in the desert and the King is in the field, it’s like someone out here on the street giving a million shekels to everyone who passes by. But if you’re even ten meters behind the door, you don’t get it, right? The idea is to take that small step and go out to the field. If you don’t go out to the field, you simply don’t meet the King. And that’s what’s so remarkable about it. On the one hand, yes, it looks as though Hashem is drawing near. Yes, He comes to the field. But no, He doesn’t come to... If they had said the King comes to the desert, then in Elul we’d wake up in the morning with a natural surge of love for Hashem. But no: we’re in the desert, and He’s in the field. So I don’t wake up feeling some kind of high. There’s a story, a joke, about a Jew who emigrated to the United States just after the Holocaust. He was from Poland, a Polish rebbele. He’s davening in a shul. It’s Elul, already well into Elul, and he sees people davening as usual. They don’t seem to feel Elul at all. Nobody is waking up. He can’t bear to see it—after all, in Poland, Elul was Elul. So he bangs on the shtender: “Elul!” And nobody reacts. Nothing. So someone

29:24 Speaker 2 who understood what was going on came over and said to him, “You know, they don’t know Hebrew. They don’t understand Lashon Hakodesh.” So he says, “September! September!” Right. That’s the point. If you don’t know the King is in the field, Elul is just September. Elul passes you by. If someone doesn’t know this secret—and really, there are things we know that we must share with people, or they’re missing out. If you don’t know that in Elul the King is in the field, then it simply isn’t Elul for you. You just have a September that goes by. There’s a golden opportunity here. And I’ll tell you something the Rebbe says in one of the maamarim—something amazing, one of the most amazing things in Chassidus, I think. I’ll get to it in a moment. But there is a golden opportunity: the King is in the field. What does that mean? All year long, I try to fix various things about myself, and it isn’t easy. Lashon hara, all sorts of things, laziness, irritability. It isn’t easy. I try, but I don’t quite manage. What Elul means is that if I try even a little to leave my desert and head toward the field—I make an effort. I know the King is in the field, and I say to myself, “All right, let’s make a fresh start with this thing that’s so hard for me.” Then there is extraordinary help from Heaven. Hashem opens my heart and really helps me succeed. That’s the King in the field. In other words, I do have to do something. As the Alter Rebbe says, the desire is enough. Hashem is only waiting for us to want it, and we go out to greet Him in the field. Then anyone who wishes to go out and greet Him is received graciously. But what’s required of me? That I want to do it.

31:19 Speaker 2 Look, I won’t go on at length, but first of all we really need to know this opportunity exists, and then try again at what we didn’t manage to do this year. I want to share something else remarkable that the Rebbe says at one of the farbrengens. The Rebbe says there can be no greater joy in the world than this: the King, Hashem, receives each and every person graciously and shows a smiling face to everyone. When I, as I am, with all my transgressions, can meet Hashem in Elul and be received graciously, with a smiling face—there can be no greater joy. The Rebbe asks: Wait a minute. If so, why weren’t we told about this? We were told about the joy of Sukkos. We were told about Purim. If you remember, we had a class about the joy of Sukkos and Purim. But without getting into that now: on Sukkos, of course, it says, “You shall rejoice on your festival” and “You shall be joyful”; and on Purim too. But who has ever heard of the joy of Elul? So why haven’t we heard of it? Look at what the Rebbe says—these are truly remarkable words. I’ll read it. It’s amazing: the Rebbe says it isn’t just that this isn’t in the teachings of our Sages, or in the works of the Rishonim, or in the works of the Acharonim. Most amazingly, says the Rebbe, it isn’t even in Chassidus. The Rebbe is about to tell us a secret that you don’t even find in Chassidus. Look, this really is remarkable. I haven’t seen wording like this, says the Rebbe. It’s from a farbrengen in 5748: “It may be said that the reason there is no commandment to be joyful during the month of Elul”—why is there no such commandment?—“and not only is there no Torah commandment, but we don’t even find in the later works, including discourses of Chassidus, a statement that one must

33:19 Speaker 2 be joyful in Elul.” Why isn’t it there? Even though there can be no greater joy than knowing that Hakadosh Boruch Hu receives each and every person graciously and shows a smiling face to everyone. There can be no greater joy. So why haven’t we heard about it? Because the joy of Elul is beyond the scope of a commandment—even beyond the scope of a commandment or a custom recorded in books. I’ll explain and give an example. There are many things we call customs. Why are they only customs, like the evening prayer and various other things that weren’t originally obligatory? Because they’re so great that Hashem cannot command them. But let’s put it another way. Imagine a book saying, “You must be amazed.” Who would write that? You won’t find it in the Gemara, or in the words of the Rishonim, or even in Chassidus: “You must be astonished.” Thank you very much. That’s exactly the point the Rebbe is making here. The Rebbe said something enormous: can you command something so, so obvious? Something so deeply felt? And so, says the Rebbe—and this really is astounding—the whole illustration of the King in the field is about the King being there, receiving everyone graciously and showing a smiling face to all. And there’s the idea of “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine.” The whole context, as we said, isn’t quite how I pictured it—but here it goes much further. The Rebbe comes and reveals things that even in the teachings of Chassidus, even our Rebbeim had not yet revealed: that this is the greatest joy there can be. And it’s happening right now. That’s the point. And we’ll finish with something remarkable. Maybe we’ll finish with this

34:58 Speaker 2 half-joke. It’s all about the King in the field, in the illustration. Now, you should know that it isn’t a Midrash. Some people think it’s a Midrash. It’s an illustration introduced by the Alter Rebbe. The King in the field—that’s the Alter Rebbe’s illustration. It didn’t exist before. But everyone knows it and assumes it’s a Midrash. Ask a Litvak. So they tell this joke about a chossid and a Litvak traveling from Jerusalem to Bnei Brak, by Givat Ram. [unclear] The chossid said to the Litvak, “Do you know the illustration of the King in the field?” “Of course, of course. Who doesn’t?” Again, he didn’t know it came from Chassidus. So the chossid said, “Well, then, explain to me what the King in the field means.” “The king—the king of the animals—is the lion. Now it’s Elul, and if you don’t do teshuvah, the lion will devour you. That’s the King in the field.” So that’s the point. For us, not only is it free of all that; even the King in the field has been turned into a devouring lion, when in fact it’s all sweetness. But yes, yes. That’s the joy the Rebbe speaks about in Elul. That’s it. Rabbi Shmona[?] can come now. We’ve said the important things.