In light of this past year’s events, can we say that our prayers last year were lacking? What is our obligation now? With so many suggestions for gaining merit during the upcoming Yemei HaDin, what is the most effective preparation for judgment? What is the source of the link between the pasuk “Ani L’Dodi V’Dodi Li” (“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”) to these days of awe? Why is the month of Elul known as the month of consolation, and what does that really mean? How can one find comfort in hardships? How does consolation link to the eis ratzon of the month of Elul? Why is the eis ratzon not explicitly mentioned in the scriptures?
Preparing for Tishrei
In Me’orei She’arim (Sha’ar HaTaharah) The Rosh Yeshiva of Gateshead, Rabbi Aryeh Ze’ev Gurevitz zt”l shares a question that a student once asked him, ‘What is the main thing one should focus on during Elul?’ In this week’s article we will explore this question and seek to provide an answer.
Rabbi Gurevitz responded that the early sages wrote that the name of the month is Elul — an acronym for the pasuk (Shir HaShirim 6:3): “אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי” (“I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine”). This, he explains, should be the focus of Elul: internalizing one’s connection to Hashem, faith in Him, and awareness of His hashgacha pratis. The more one succeeds in fostering the feeling of belonging to Hashem, of “I am my Beloved’s,” that much more Hashem is for him, and he merits favor during the Days of Judgment. Let us expand a bit on this acronym, and how it captures the essence of the month.
Source
What is the source of linking this pasuk to Elul? Is it merely the acronym?
Rabbeinu Yehoshua Ibn Shu’aib, a disciple of the Rashba (Derashos Rabbeinu Yehoshua Ibn Shu’aib, Shoftim), and the Mateh Moshe, a student of the Maharshal (Amud HaAvodah, Rosh Chodesh Elul and Rosh HaShanah, 778), write that the source of this hint appears in a Midrash [which is not available to us]. Rabbeinu David Abudraham (Seder Tefillas Rosh HaShanah) notes that this hint is well known among the homilists. This hint is also cited by many of the early authorities, such as Maharach Or Zarua (32), the Akeida (97), Seder HaYom (Elul), the Bach (OC 581), the Shelah (Maseches Rosh HaShanah), and the Chida (Chomas Anach, Shir HaShirim 6:26).
Leading halachic authorities such as the Chayei Adam (Part II, 138:1), Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (128:1), Mishnah Berurah (intro. to Siman 581), and Aruch HaShulchan (OC 581:1) also mention this hint when discussing the month of Elul. Since “Ani LeDodi” appears in seforim that teach practical Halacha, it cannot be a mere hint or homiletical allusion. Rather, it is the essence of the month.
Inner Meaning
The above-mentioned sources explain that Elul is an Eis Ratzon, time of Divine favor. As Seder HaYom (Rabbeinu Machir, a prominent figure in the lifetime of the Beis Yosef and Ari) states: “Concerning this month, it is said, ‘I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine,’ an acronym for Elul. The Holy One, Blessed be He, desires our love, and His hand is extended to receive those who return [to Him].”
The Mishnah Brura (581) explains the source for the custom of sounding the shofar (adopted by Ashkenazi communities) and reciting selichos the entire month (as practiced by Sephardic communities): Moshe Rabbeinu ascended the Heavens to receive the second luchos on Rosh Chodesh Elul. For the next forty days, from Rosh Chodesh Elul until Yom Kippur, he remained there. He adds: “And there is a hint from the pasuk: ‘I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine’ — an acronym for Elul, and numerical value of the final letters total 40 (each of the words ends with the letter yud which carries the numerical value of 10). This corresponds to the forty days from Rosh Chodesh Elul to Yom Kippur, during which repentance is accepted, one’s heart draws closer to Hashem through repentance, and then his Beloved draws near to accept his repentance with love. And another hint is from the verse ‘And the Lord your G-d will circumcise your heart and the heart of your descendants,’ –( ומל ה’ אלוקיך את לבבך ואת לבב) the acronym for Elul.”
Elul – Connecting to Hashem
The Tur (Siman 581) cites from Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer (46) to explain the month’s potency: After the Sin of the Golden Calf, when Moshe Rabbeinu broke the first luchos on the 17th of Tammuz, he prayed for 40 days, and Hashem agreed to give the second luchos. On Rosh Chodesh Elul, Moshe Rabbeinu ascended the mountain again and the shofar was sounded throughout the camp. To commemorate that, we sound the shofar every day of Elul. With that blast, the Holy One, Blessed be He, ascended, as it says (Tehillim 47:6): “G-d has ascended with a shout, the Lord with the sound of a shofar.”
Summary
The forty days starting on Rosh Chodesh Elul and extending until Yom Kippur are 40 days of mercy and forgiveness which correspond to the 40 days that Moshe Rabbeinu spent in Heaven to receive the second luchos. To help us remember and internalize the message of the month we recite chapter 27 in Tehilim, Sefardi communities recite selichos every single day, and Ashkenazi communities sound the shofar after Shacharis.
Elul — Consolation
Another aspect of this month is the Sheva D’Nechemta – the seven weeks of consolation. The haftoras read during these weeks are haftoras of consolation, beginning on Shabbos Nachamu, the Shabbos right after Tisha’a B’Av, and ending on Rosh HaShanah.
Consolation and Repentance
The month of Elul is, as we’ve seen, a very significant month, a month-long Eis Ratzon. On the other hand, there is no specific Torah commandment for these times, and the Mishna and Gemara don’t mention any halachos related to this month.
Interestingly, the holiday of Tu B’Av receives the same treatment. The day was always marked as a holiday, as the Mishnah (Ta’anis 26a) states that there were no days as joyous for Yisrael as the fifteenth of Av and Yom Kippur. During the time of the Shoftim, Tu B’Av was regarded as having been celebrated “from time immemorial” – mi’yamim yamima. However, like the month of Elul, Tu B’Av also has no practical halachos other than the custom of not saying Tachanun.
If it is the most joyous holiday our nation has known, shouldn’t there be a kiddush, festive meal, and zemiros?
The Gemara (Ta’anis 30b) records the date as a holiday, but wonders at its nature: what is special about the fifteenth of Av? The Gemara lists six different explanations which hint at the day’s profound inner nature. It’s essence, though, remains shrouded in mystery.
The Rishonim (Rambam, Commentary on the Mishnah, Ta’anis 4; Ritva, Ta’anis 26b; the Orchos Chaim 1:23; and the Kolbo 62) only note that Tu B’Av was the day the Generation of the Desert ceased dying. The Ritva adds that customarily, a special meal is served on Shabbos Nachamu to mark this occasion.
So what is Tu B’Av? Tu B’Av is a complex topic deserving of detailed exploration, but one key aspect links the Seven Weeks of Consolation to the month of Elul.
Contrary to common belief, the deaths in the wilderness didn’t cease exactly on Tu B’Av. Rather, it was on the night of the 9th of Av every year on which the people would lie in their graves and wait to die. This practice continued every year, even in the 40th year. But on that year, in the morning of the 9th of Av, everyone arose from their graves alive. Unsure if they had erred in counting the days, they waited, and continued sleeping in their graves every night. When the full moon of Tu B’Av arrived, they understood that the decree had truly ended, and none were going to die.
The joy of Tu B’Av is not a joy in knowledge that the decree has been nullified, but in its actualization, in seeing it play out in reality. As the Rambam notes, “their souls were at peace, and they understood with clarity that they were accepted.” The joy of Tu B’Av lies in internalizing how beloved and cherished we are by Hashem. It is not a rejoicing in the knowledge that “I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine,” but in our actually feeling it on a personal level. This deep connection brings us profound peace and true inner joy.
Pain – Part of Consolation
To truly grasp this concept, consider a remarkable parable I once heard from one of my teachers:
A couple shared an extraordinary bond, living in such deep love and harmony that they felt their lives were incomplete without one another. The husband, an only child of wealthy parents, and the wife, also an only child of affluent parents, were deeply devoted to each other. However, they had no children, and this weighed heavily on them and their families. Desperate to see the next generation, their respective families began pressuring the couple to divorce, believing that one of them might be blessed with children in a second marriage. Yet, the couple refused to consider it, declaring that their relationship was more precious to them than the hope of having children. Life, for them, held no meaning without each other.
Ten years went by, and they sought help from the world’s most renowned doctors. All agreed that as a couple, they had no chance of having children. However, if they separated, the possibility existed. Under mounting pressure, the husband finally told his beloved wife that he could no longer withstand the strain, and that they needed to part ways. After their divorce, matchmakers attempted to set them up with others, but neither the husband nor the wife could bring themselves to entertain the idea. Emotionally, they were still tied to one another, and their lives felt empty. Eventually, they remarried.
To everyone’s astonishment, the couple was soon blessed with a child. Their joy was boundless. In the midst of this newfound happiness, the husband said to his wife, ‘I want to explain something to you about the divorce.’ But his wife refused to hear anything about that dark period. The husband gently persisted, saying, ‘Listen. The doctors were all baffled, except for one—the most renowned expert we consulted right before the divorce. Quietly, he told me there was only one hope: you were lacking a certain hormone necessary for successfully carrying a baby. Only if we were to separate, he said, and your heart would be filled with both longing and sorrow, would it stimulate the production of that missing hormone. I want you to understand: the divorce was not meant to abandon you, G-d forbid. It was a means to strengthen our bond and make this blessing possible.’
This parable mirrors the deeper meaning behind the Seven Haftoras of Consolation which we read in the aftermath of Tisha B’Av. Even before the severe decrees of destruction were issued, decades before Yirmiyahu’s harsh prophecies, Yeshayahu was already speaking words of comfort. The essence of consolation lies in realizing that it was foreseen even before the pain—and that the suffering itself is intended for our ultimate benefit.
As the Rambam eloquently put it: “Their souls were at peace, and they understood with clarity that they were accepted.” This is the profound message of the Seven Weeks of Consolation, which is also the essence of the month of Elul—a time to recognize and internalize how truly cherished and beloved we are.
Results of on the Ground
As the year winds to an end and we see the results of last year’s prayers in real life, it is crucial to confront a question that weighs heavily on many, yet is not usually openly discussed: Did we fall short last year? Did we not pray fervently enough? Did we fail to truly repent? Did we not give enough charity? Where did we go wrong?
This question has taken on even greater urgency this year as we reflect on the past Simchas Torah, the day of the horrific massacre in Israel’s southern communities. Since then, the war in Israel has displaced tens of thousands of Jews from their homes in both north and south, with no clear end in sight. The war has claimed many lives, and the Jewish people watch in disbelief as an overwhelming barrage of rockets and drones, capable of immense destruction, threaten to annihilate and destroy. Also around the world, being Jewish has become increasingly uncomfortable, and Jews no longer feel safe in their home countries.
These realities provoke difficult questions: What could we have done differently during last years’ Yomim Noraim? How could we have prevented or nullified the decree? How is it that, at the very moment when the Jewish people were celebrating the Torah, at the conclusion of these spiritual times, exactly at sunrise of Shemini Atzeres when the Creator uniquely connects with the Jewish people, tragedy struck? Even as we danced with the Torah to honor it, death came rolling through our windows, and the horrific massacre unfolded.
My teacher and mentor, the esteemed Rabbi Yisrael Dov Wiesel addressed this question in a profound letter which he published after the massacre. He explained that clearly, there had been a severe and terrible decree. While we cannot fully comprehend Hashem’s workings, He nevertheless ensured it would begin at a time when the Jewish people had many merits—in a moment of Divine favor. This, in turn, mitigated the severity of the decree, allowing us to survive. Despite the tremendous pain, the decree was halted and diminished, and life continues.
A similar sentiment was expressed by Torah leaders following the Yom Kippur War. People approached them, feeling that the war had occurred because they had not prayed properly on Yom Kippur. How, they wondered, could such a devastating tragedy unfold on a day of forgiveness and atonement—a day of Eis Ratzon? They sought to understand where they had gone wrong and how to improve for the future. Yet Torah leaders at the time responded that on the contrary: Hashem had ensured that the harsh decree occur specifically on Yom Kippur, a day filled with so many merits for the Jewish people. It was precisely these merits that mitigated and watered down the evil decree.
Yom Kippur and Simchas Torah
Upon deeper reflection, a striking and chilling parallel becomes evident between these two events. In both cases, against all odds, every line of defense was breached, and the loss of Jewish lives was far greater than anyone could have anticipated. Yet, at the very moment when all seemed lost, we began to witness miraculous interventions—moments that defied the natural order, halting the decrees of destruction.
During the Yom Kippur War, Israel’s sense of military invincibility was shattered. The Bar-Lev Line and the Suez Canal defenses in the south collapsed, and in the north, Syrian forces penetrated deep into the Golan Heights, which had served as Israel’s natural shield. The military, caught unprepared, suffered a tragic and devastating loss of life. Yet, at this critical juncture, through an almost inexplicable turn of events, Israeli forces managed to stop the onslaught and reverse the tide, pushing the enemy back in a way that can only be described as miraculous.
A similar pattern unfolded during the horrific Simchas Torah massacre. In an unimaginable breach of security, every defense along the Gaza border failed. According to recent reports, over 6,000 Gazan residents, including at least half who were highly trained Nukhba terrorists armed with advanced weaponry like RPGs, infiltrated Israel. Despite the collapse of all defenses and the open road left for these ruthless attackers, they were met primarily by unarmed civilians or small emergency response teams equipped only with handguns. And yet, astonishingly, these modest teams, armed with little more than faith and courage, managed to eliminate hundreds of heavily armed terrorists.
One of the most remarkable revelations was the protective power of Shabbos. Shabbos observance acted as an unseen, impenetrable shield, even when all other physical defenses had fallen. The fact that thousands of highly trained terrorists, after breaching every security line, did not wreak even greater devastation, is a testament to the power of our prayers during the High Holy Days. Those prayers, along with our joyful dancing and honoring of the Torah on Simchas Torah, helped lessen and mitigate the harsh decree. Many of our lives were spared as a gift, a reflection of last year’s Divine favor, encapsulated in the pasuk, “I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine.”
The miracle became even more evident later in the year, when Israel faced an overwhelming barrage of rockets and drones from Iran, Lebanon, and Yemen, yet sustained minimal damage. This serves as further proof of the immense magnitude of the miracles and Divine protection we experienced during this time of favor.
This Elul our task is indeed to look back to the year we experienced and internalize Hashem’s consolation. We must recognize how close our Beloved truly is to us, how He shields and protects us, even when all the physical defenses collapse.
In next week’s article, we will explore how to balance Awe of judgment with the joy of reveling in Hashem’s Divine favor. We will also examine how this combination of pain and miracles shapes our response and what it requires from us in our daily lives.
