Elul: The Role of Man

Recovering a Virginity of Spirit

[…] Every year we break them, for the simple reason that we are not angels. There are things that escape us, and our practice has grown old: it has worn us down, and we have abused it. That is why, each year, we must recover a virginity of spirit. The sign of the month of Elul is Virgo, the Virgin, and the sign of Tishri is Libra, the Scales.

This quest for virginity that we wish to recover — I mean virginity of spirit in the month of Elul — we begin on the first day of Elul, because that day marks Moshe’s ascent of Mount Sinai to bring back the second Tablets of the Law, which would be given to the people of Israel.

What is particular about these second Tablets is that they were first fashioned here below, and only the writing of the Holy One, blessed be He, appears upon them. They are not essentially different from the first Tablets, yet there are some nuances. It is not quite the same thing: they are better suited to the capacities of man, who can be an angel only at certain moments of his life. At bottom we remain human beings, and we are, are we not, vulnerable.

Why Four Days of Selichot

Our sages therefore sought a primary meaning for the name Elul. I forgot to tell you that the Ashkenazim observe only four days: they begin reciting selichot (penitential prayers) only four days before Rosh Hashanah. The reason is that, just as a sacrifice is examined for any blemish four days before it is brought to the altar, so too this count of four days was adopted. And when there are not four full days between Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah, one begins — as this year, when we began last night — a week earlier. But this has a meaning.

Elul, the Exploration of Oneself

Now, I was saying that Elul, in Aramaic, means exploration. Onkelos renders “veyaturu” with […], and that word means: they shall explore. You can hear the word Elul in it? An exploration of oneself, an exploration of man and of his capacities. We know very well that every person answers to a particular mission, and that every person is irreplaceable.

Contrary to what people think, each has a function to fulfill in this world. That is why everything counts in a Sefer Torah: if a single letter is missing, the Sefer is out of commission. In the same way, the world is out of commission when a person fails to fulfill his function and makes himself absent.

This is why we insist first of all not on the search for closeness to G-d, but on the fact that we have a function to fulfill. And we then attach it to Him, because without connecting to the Absolute we have no point of reference, and we cannot have one.

The Circumcision of Speech and Desire

[…] “your heart and the heart of your offspring”: here the rashei tevot, the initial letters, spell Elul. The task is to perform the circumcision upon oneself — upon one’s own speech, one’s desires, one’s inordinate pride. For these are the two sins, the two instincts, that threaten our existence: the abuse of ta’avot, the appetites, and an excessive regard for oneself — not knowing the true measure of one’s own capacities, and above all being overtaken by covetousness, by a spirit of competition, remaining the mere reflection of an environment, of a society, running with everyone else down paths that are not our own.

Ish Lere’ehu: The Measure of Generosity

That is the second aspect of Elul. The third aspect our sages found in the rashei tevot — the initial letters — and the gematria of “ish lere’ehu umatanot la’evyonim”: “one man to his fellow, and gifts to the poor,” in order to measure one’s capacity to give. A person is measured first of all by the scope of his generosity. Giving to the other, then.

These are the three parameters, and they echo three other parameters in man’s relationship with his fellow and with G-d — for the closest fellow, the fellow par excellence, is G-d. We try, at our own level, to live this within the couple, because it is within the couple that giving truly comes about. And in reality, in giving, we only receive: the one who receives is the one who gives. That is true love within the couple, and we try to carry it over into our relationship with others, with our fellow.

For what we hold on to in another person is not his capacity for thought. Thought has a certain permanence, but it is nonetheless limited in time. Thought has an expiration date; there is no expiration date for love, for the impulse of the heart. That impulse is permanent, valid for all times; it does not age, it does not wear out. It must of course be reawakened, but the feelings we carry are always the same; we have not changed them. It is not like an idea that we transform, adjust, correct — it simply is.

Knowing One’s Place and the Worth of One’s Person

So the first requirement of the month of Elul is, first of all, to realize what we are, both in space and in time. […] The true sage is the one who knows his place and fills it well.

And then, the one who knows that he bears the tzelem udemut Elokim, the image and likeness of G-d, and who grants his own person a worth — who does not cheapen it, does not diminish it, but on the contrary seeks, rightly, to enhance it.

We shall see that these three stages are inscribed in the life of man: through Shabbat, which is the sanctification of time; through the Temple, which we carry with us in time and in space, since we always try to give a sacred dimension to our dwelling. And we will live that dimension on Sukkot, since it concerns a dwelling in time. […] And realizing one’s creation in the image and likeness of G-d — that is Rosh Hashanah. Elul is a period of preparation for this: for living that relationship of companion of G-d.

Dodi Li and Ani Ledodi: Two Directions of Love

Indeed, our sages found in “Ani ledodi vedodi li” — “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” in the Song of Songs, chapter 6 — an allusion to the month of Elul, once again through the rashei tevot, the initial letters of the words. And this, our sages say, is the answer to “Dodi li va’ani lo,” found also in the Song of Songs, in chapter 2, words of the beloved to his beloved: “My beloved is mine, and I am his” — I belong to him, I am devoted to him.

That, say our sages, is where we receive everything from the Holy One, blessed be He. We are indeed chosen by Him; we are recognized as “beni bechori” — “My son, My firstborn.” Now there can be only one firstborn in a family — in the family of nations. We are the firstborn.

The second relationship is “Ani ledodi vedodi li,” and this one rises from below to above. I have now received everything from Him — what have I done with it? I did not quite measure up; I did not answer what was required of me. I somewhat neglected my obligations; I let that love wear thin somewhere. So it needs a new impulse, and this new impulse comes from below, rising upward. “Ani ledodi” — I seek my beloved, I belong to my beloved, “vedodi li.”

From Husband and Wife to Father, from Father to the Sukkah

It is, in sum, a relationship of husband and wife that we live, one we prepare for on Rosh Hashanah, and which becomes, on Kippur, a relationship of father and son — av uven — “kerachem av al banim,” as a father has compassion on his children. We know very well that a man discovers fatherhood only with his first child: it is the firstborn who confers on the parents the title of father and mother. Then comes Sukkot: it is our house that is built — but at the threshold, at the mezuzah, not between four walls. It is a desire to live this relationship of husband and wife, of father and mother. Now, as a ben bayit, as though we were members of the household, the Shechinah settles in our dwellings.

So the preparation we undertake in the month of Elul is what will enable us to live three dimensions of spirituality. And you can imagine that it is not easy — not easy unless we are able to rediscover our essence, to rediscover this neshamah, this pure breath given to us from birth, from the very beginning, which we go on affirming every morning: “the soul You have given me is pure.” If I were not aware of the purity of the soul, I could never erase what I have written, nor rediscover the purity of that soul, of that spark of G-d that I carry within me.

Teshuvah: Erasing, Not Covering Over

And here comes the notion of teshuvah, of return to oneself. A return to oneself. We are far too inclined to think of forgiveness as something we grant to others — or as though G-d, in the end, could simply hand it to us, without our making the effort of erasing things ourselves, of being able to restore, to repair. Kapparah means to cover. It is as if you had a dirty wall in your home and you applied a new coat to cover it all. Except that on a wall, you cover it over with fresh paint that hides. Here, no: you erase. It is possible to erase. Why? Because sin does not reach the essence of Israel. Sin reaches only its garment. It stains only its garment.

The selichot — those prayers that open the forgiveness we ask of G-d, that we ask of ourselves, that we bring about by ourselves, that we want to accomplish by our own efforts, though with the help of the Holy One, blessed be He, in our endeavors — without them, we do not realize what we are doing in this tikkun, this effort of restoration.

The Thirteen Attributes, Garments of the Absolute

For the idea we have of every person around us, and the idea we have of the Holy One, blessed be He, is that of a tallit, of a garment. What we perceive of each person are his qualities, his virtues — his garments. And when we invoke the Thirteen Attributes of G-d, through which we come to know G-d, we have no other way of knowing Him than through them, through […]. But they remain abstract notions if we do not transpose them into our own lives, onto ourselves. If we do not ourselves show chesed, if we do not integrate […] as well, then it is in vain that we recite prayers here and there. We must first be able to make our own these attributes through which we grasp the Absolute, and which are symbolized, moreover, by this garment that we all wear alike — to say that it is the tallit that covers everything. Our soul itself remains intact; we simply need to strip away everything that hides it, everything that obscures it, everything that soils it.

That is why we invoke the Thirteen Attributes of G-d throughout the selichot — this too answers to a symbolism that I will explain much later. But we also allude to them through the psalm “LeDavid, Hashem ori veyish’i,” which we recite throughout the month of Elul and until […], to say that the thirteen Names, the thirteen attributes of G-d, the thirteen evocations of G-d found in this psalm, invoke the Names of G-d, His attributes, and the thirteen measures through which He reveals Himself in His world. And this is “vera’ita et achorai” — you shall see My back. The true face of G-d we do not know and shall not know. But it is through these attributes, and these attributes are human ones. If we manage to integrate them, we could indeed approach Rosh Hashanah as the starting point of a new year.

Shanah, the Repetition That Changes Its Content

Yet I would not say “a new year,” because shanah comes from the verb shanah, to repeat. It is a repetition — but the repetition of a cycle, once I have given it a different content.

You can see this in the book of Devarim. Devarim is a repetition; it is called Mishneh Torah, a repetition of the Torah, made by Moshe. And yet it is entirely different, and our sages even marked the difference: some say that one may not study or interpret the juxtaposition of passages in the first four books, but one may in the book of Devarim. Various nuances and various laws appear in it, because the first understanding remained deficient at a certain level, and day after day we can complete it. And day after day we complete it: we do not entirely erase what we did before. There is no erasure — even though in certain passages, “mecheh fesha’enu,” we ask G-d to erase our transgressions.

Our sages even affirmed that zedonot, deliberate sins, become shegagot, inadvertent ones, and even that deliberate sins can be transformed, through the lesson they have dealt us, to the point of becoming zechuyot, merits — the merit of what they taught us — so that today we continue to rise beyond them.

Each of Us Is a Mini-Avraham

That is the true meaning of Rosh Hashanah. It is a beginning, a new beginning, a new cycle — but one that does not break with the past. On the contrary, it gives the past another meaning, another dimension. That is the first teaching of the month of Elul, and, as I told you, it is borne out in “ish lere’ehu,” in this relationship of re’a, of fellow. The re’a par excellence — once again, the companion par excellence — is the Holy One, blessed be He. He is the one who accompanies us always, since He is our very essence. If we set that aside, we remain in the relative, in the subjective — and then there is nothing left. What gives our life the possibility of a measure, an axis, a verticality, is that we have the measure of a giving.

He, in the end, has nothing to receive, but this fulfills the ratzon of the Holy One, blessed be He. And the ratzon at the origin of everything is to have much nachat, like a father from his children when they succeed in life: that is the nachat He derives from all His creation. Now this does not rest on the masses — you must know this. It is not a clan. It rests on the ani, the “I,” on “Ani ledodi.” Everything depends on me.

Avraham was one, a single man. He waged his struggle, and today each one of us is a mini-Avraham, able to accomplish extraordinary things in tikkun olam, the repair of this world. We must not minimize what we do. What we do is always important. And just as an insignificant microbe can destroy an entire life, know that the positive act one performs can heal an entire world and restore it.

The Three Passages of the Shema

And this flows from that “Ani ledodi,” from a total devotion, an unconditional dedication such as we find in the Shema. You know that we read three parashiyot, three passages, in the Shema. The first is: you shall love Hashem your G-d. You shall practice, you shall teach, when you lie down and when you rise. There are three functions here, corresponding to our […], since on Rosh Hashanah the point is not to doze off but to stay awake.

[…] In sum, when we are settled in the sukkah… but when we shut ourselves away in our houses, that is very bad. […] That is Kippur — Kippur, with the giving of the second Tablets of the Law, and He sets us on our way.

But in this first passage, no reward whatsoever is promised to the one who shows this love of G-d and practices it throughout his day, from the morning when he wakes until nightfall. In the second passage it is something else: it is ahavah, “to love Hashem your G-d.” Here is the instruction manual, the practical application. Here we are told: follow the path, practice the laws, and I will give the rains in their season, I will give the vegetation that is needed, you will eat and be satisfied; but should you ever abandon My way, know that the rains will be withheld. Reward and punishment, in the second passage. So it is a new approach — an approach for those who would see in this adherence to G-d’s law a lifeline for their material success, strictly speaking.

The third passage is that of the tallit, of the garment, of the tzitzit. Everything takes place under the covering of the tzitzit, under the covering of the garment. And there it says: that you not stray after your heart and after your eyes. Through this exploration of the eyes and of the heart we should read the two root sins we mentioned: man’s own desires, and also excess in one’s appraisal of oneself. A measure of self-esteem is entirely required — but not to excess.

Three Modes of Approach to Divine Service

These are, in sum, three modes of approach to divine service. The first: how will you verify that you love Hashem your G-d? How will you verify it, if not by arousing esteem and love around you, among your neighbors — if people are truly won over by your way of acting, by your way of teaching, by your way of applying the law, by your moral path. […]

There is a second way, which consists in regarding G-d as a benefactor: He can give me this and that if I respect the law, and if I do not respect it, woe to me. At that point it is no longer love; it is dread, it is fear.

In the third passage there is a warning: the remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. If you continue to use Judaism as a garment, then know that you may have tried to master your desires and impulses to some degree, here and there, but that is only the starting point — the departure from Egypt. It is a step backward.

Now, there is a second way of seeing things, and with this I will conclude my lecture: does not living with this notion of gratuitous love, which expects nothing, give you awareness of what you can do, of the transformations you can bring about — namely, that all the riches of this world, you could be their holder, even their very operator? And, alas, you can also be the agent of destruction, of undoing.

Nitzavim: No Spiritual Hierarchy

The third passage comes to say: know that in the practice of the laws one must not set up hierarchies. And that is precisely why the passages of Nitzavim and Vayelech precede Rosh Hashanah. For at Nitzavim we pause: you are standing here, you are here, your leaders, all gathered together on an equal footing, from the woodcutter to the drawer of water. All stand on the same level spiritually. Never establish a hierarchy. That is why the tallit becomes the shawl of uniformity for our prayers and our persons in the synagogue.

And just as the first aim of the Holy One, blessed be He, was to bring you out of Egypt, to bring man out of his repetitive conditioning, you were to be capable of doing so by your own efforts — since the first mitzvah given to man while he was still in Egypt gave him the faculty, the possibility, of freeing his fellow.

That, then, is what we are going to work toward during this month of Tishri, so rich in celebrations — Rosh Hashanah and Kippur — while proclaiming the kingdom of G-d and the kingship of G-d. If you have any questions, please ask — it will be my pleasure.

Questions from the Audience

Question:

You spoke about hierarchy, but in Judaism we have the Kohanim, the Levi’im, Yisrael. Judaism is in fact full of hierarchy. So when you say that we must fight against hierarchy, against the hierarchical structure of society?

There is a hierarchy that one respects, is there not? But it is not a hierarchy that one worships, for the Kohen may be a false Kohen, the navi may be a false prophet, the shofet, the judge, may be a bad judge. We respect hierarchy for what is worthy and sublime in it, when it commands respect on its own merits — when it manages to command respect by itself. And “mora rabbach kemora shamayim”: you must fear your master as you fear Heaven. It is written in so many words. But in your own way of functioning, you must not be dependent on your master.

Let me tell you: when our sages sought to define the capacities of man — “Eizehu chacham? Halomed mikol adam.” Who is wise? The one who learns from every person. They could have told us that it is the one who has a rav, a master to think for him. No — for then he is dependent on his master; without his master he no longer knows how to do anything. But halomed mikol adam — this is the one who has built his own wisdom, his own knowledge, by learning from every person.

It is the same with “Eizehu ashir?” Who is rich? The one who rejoices in his portion. Here too they could have told us that the rich man is the one who has a great fortune and lives in complete independence. No — he is dependent on his fortune, dependent on his wealth. He must be content with the portion he has been given, the portion he has earned. That is the truly rich man.

And “Eizehu gibor?” Who is the hero? Who is the strong man? Is the strong man the one whom the vanquished acknowledges as such? No: “hakovesh et yitzro,” the one who masters his inclination. And the one who masters his inclination is himself. So man fulfills himself by himself. He depends on no one.

There is, to be sure, an administrative structure that governs society; it governs it from the outside. It imposes respect and obedience when it meets its obligations. And when it does not meet its obligations, you need not respect it. On the contrary, you must fight it.

So, if there are no further questions, I bid you farewell, and until next week. I would like once again to thank you very, very warmly, in the name of us all, in the name of those who listen to you in France, in Israel, in Belgium, even in Morocco, and much farther still.