Skip to main content

Elul: Returning to the Beloved Within

 

B"H

Elul: Returning to the Beloved Within

Translated freely from a lesson by Rabbi Asher Farkash

There are moments when the energy in the air shifts. The month of Elul is one of those times. The Kabbalists tell us, in Elul the atmosphere is no longer the same ,  it becomes charged with the frequency of return. It becomes saturated with the energy of Elul.

Elul is not just a time on the calendar. It is a state of consciousness. The Sages gave us a key: The acronym of Ani l’dodi v’dodi li ,  “I am to my Beloved, and my Beloved is to me.” is Elul. What they are really saying is: this month is not about fear, or shame, or punishment. This month is about intimacy. About the rediscovery of love.

When you begin to examine your life, when you do a soul accounting, your first reflex is often shame. You see where you fell short. You see the moments when you betrayed yourself. You see the gap between who you were and who you wanted to be. And normally, that realization hurts. It feels heavy.

But Chassidut gives us a revolution. It reframes Teshuvah ,  not as self-condemnation, but as return. Teshuvah doesn’t mean “regret.” It doesn’t mean “beating yourself up.” Its essence is far more radical. Teshuvah means to come back. To come back to G-d. To come back to your soul. To come back to the part of you that was never broken.

Deep down, you are already aligned with the Divine. That’s what the Alter Rebbe teaches in Tanya. At your core, you are not flawed. You are a literal piece of the Infinite. What happens is that layers of pain, of distraction, of compulsion wrap around that truth. You forget. You become entangled in what is not you.

Teshuvah, then, is not becoming someone new. It is remembering who you are. It is peeling away the illusions to reveal what has been true all along. And when you realize this, the heaviness dissolves. The despair is replaced with joy. Because you recognize that you were never disconnected. You only believed you were.

The King in the Field

The Baal Shem Tov gave us a metaphor that reframes Elul forever: the King in the field.

Imagine a king. In his palace, he is surrounded by guards, gates, and rituals. To reach him requires status, preparation, layers of protocol. You can’t just walk in. You can’t just say what’s in your heart. Only a few, the elite, get access. And when they do, they are trembling in awe.

But then, picture this. The king removes his royal robes and wears simple clothing, he leaves his palace. He steps outside the golden gates and walks into the open fields where his people live and work.. He smiles. He greets people one by one. He lets anyone approach. No barriers, no guards, no conditions. The king has entered your world: I am meeting you where you are. He smiles. He welcomes you. There are no guards, no barriers, no protocols.

Do you see what this means? Elul is the month when the Divine becomes radically accessible. You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to already be holy. You only need to turn and recognize that He is already here, waiting. The field is your daily life. And suddenly, even the most ordinary moment is infused with extraordinary intimacy.

Rediscovering the True “I”

People are always asking: “Who am I, really?” Elul answers: Ani l’dodi. My true “I” is not the mask I wear, not the story I tell myself, not the trauma I inherited. My true “I” is my relationship to the Beloved. Beneath the layers, I am always already in union.

That is why this time is not about creating something new. It is about remembering. Remembering that you are a child of the Infinite. That your soul is already home. That the ache you feel when you stray is not proof of separation ,  it is the proof of your eternal bond.

Forty Days of Love

From Rosh Chodesh Elul until Yom Kippur, there are forty days. Each day is an invitation. Each day is a step deeper into intimacy. Each day is the opportunity to peel away one more illusion, one more defense, one more wall between you and your Beloved.

And then comes Yom Kippur ,  the day of ultimate transparency. The day when all masks fall. The day when you and G-d look at each other face to face. When the illusion of separation melts completely into the truth of eternal love.

The Call of the Soul

That is why the shofar is blown in Elul. Its cry is not just a sound, it is a vibration that bypasses your rational mind and pierces directly into your essence. It is the reminder that you are already connected. That you are already loved. That all G-d wants is for you to turn toward Him and discover that He was already turned toward you.

Elul is not about fear. It is about intimacy. It is not about becoming someone else. It is about finally being yourself.

So the invitation of this month is simple: step into the field. Drop the walls. Let yourself be seen. And discover that what meets you there is a smile. The Beloved who whispers: You were never far from Me. You only needed to remember.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Arizals Apples from the Orchard

B”H Av 5 5758 Today is the Yahrtzeit of the holy Arizal. It’s amazing how Divine Providence works. Over 27 years ago, a man (and now dear friend)  named Jim Damavandi walked through our doors for the very first time. We were still finding our way as a shul in Malibu, trying to figure out how to serve this beautiful, unique community. And then Jim showed up. Jim and I at the Wall in 2003 Jim wasn’t your typical shul guy. He came with, well, let’s just say, a mission, even if he didn’t call it that. If you were around in those days, you remember. He’d listen to my sermon… then call out, “Corruption!” (Yes, really!:-) ), and follow it up by quoting… the Arizal. Now, who was the Arizal? Rabbi Yitzchak Luria was more than just a brilliant rabbi, he was a spiritual revolutionary. He opened up the deepest, most mystical teachings of Torah. He showed us the inner wiring of reality itself, the Divine blueprint of heaven and earth. But let’s be honest: these teachings are no walk in the ...

Kuntres Eitz Chaim 1

B"H The ancient wisdom of Proverbs whispers to us: “For a Mitzvah is a candle, the Torah is light; and ethical admonishment the path of life.” These words invite us into a deep, spacious mystery, one that calls us to pause and ponder: What is this “path of life”? Is it distinct from the Torah and its mitzvot, or is it their very flowering within us? And why this tender imagery—a Mitzvah as a candle, Torah as light? Let us sit with these questions, allowing them to unfold in the quiet of our hearts. In the Jewish tradition, the sages offer us a lens: a Mitzvah, they say, is like a single candle, its flame flickering, offering protection for a moment. A Mitzvah is a sacred act, a gesture of love that lights up the darkness but fades in time. Torah, however, is light itself—boundless, eternal, like the dawn breaking over the horizon, illuminating all things forever. The Shaloh, a mystical voice, speaks of Torah as a great bonfire, fierce and uncontained, while the sages evoke the ste...