We are already deep into the month of Elul. Summer vacation is far back in the rearview mirror, nearly forgotten. Each morning, the piercing sound of the shofar echoes, blaring into our ears and proclaiming, “Wake up! It is time to do teshuvah. It is time to come back…”
Our Father in Shomayim is waiting for us with open arms. He designed these forty days of rachamim and ratzon, days when He goes beyond the norm, inviting us to return and making it easier for us to come back.
The Two-Fold Opposite Feelings of These Days
These days fill us with two opposite emotions. On one hand, there is eimas hadin, a sense of awe and dread. In pre-war Europe, it was said that even the fish in the sea trembled during Elul.
It is related that when the famed Rav Itzele Peterberger heard the chazzan announce, “Rosh Chodesh Elul yihiyeh b’yom…,” he would faint from the fear of the approaching din of Rosh Hashanah, when Hashem judges each of us and the entire world.
The Maharil, an early posek for Ashkenazic Jewry, writes that during the days of Elul, Yidden would intentionally bring suffering upon themselves to achieve a kapparah. They would fast numerous times and toivel in freezing-cold mikvaos, all for one purpose: to weaken the power of the guf, to lessen the influence of the yeitzer hora.
And yet, on the other hand, these are days of great kirvas Elokim, days of closeness to Hashem. From the time Moshe Rabbeinu ascended Har Sinai on Rosh Chodesh Elul and remained there for forty days until Hashem forgave the chet ha’Eigel, these forty days of Elul and Tishrei, culminating in Yom Kippur, carry extraordinary rachamim.
Hashem looks upon us with immense benevolence during this time. Thus, in addition to the natural awe and trepidation, there is also tremendous opportunity for kirvas Elokim. There is no period when the Bnei Yisroel are closer to Hashem than during these forty days. Our tefillos are especially potent, and our teshuvah is more readily accepted.
Why We No Longer “Beat Up” the Guf
The Chiddushei Harim explains that although the derech of teshuvah described by the Maharil involved self-imposed pain, things changed in the time of the Noam Elimelech of Lizhensk. The Noam Elimelech davened fervently, storming the heavens, begging Hashem to remove the need for Yidden to endure such suffering in order to do teshuvah.
Rav Elimelech’s tefillos were accepted. From that point on, says the Chiddushei Harim, the extreme derech of fasting and afflicting the guf was no longer the norm.
The Chiddushei Harim asks a profound question: What exactly was Rav Elimelech seeking to accomplish? Did he really want Yidden to enter Rosh Hashanah megushamim — consumed with gashmiyus? After all, the self-inflicted hardships had a clear purpose: to subjugate the guf to Hashem by weakening its desires, lowering its gaavah, and removing feelings of self-importance that lead to sin.
Did Rav Elimelech truly intend to eliminate this path of humility and allow us to approach Elul, teshuvah, and Rosh Hashanah with full stomachs, indulging in steak and ice cream? How would that help us return to Hashem?
Two Diametric Ways to Neutralize the Gashmiyus
The Chiddushei Harim clarifies that Rav Elimelech’s intent was entirely different. There are, in fact, two distinct ways to neutralize the power of the guf.
The first — the age-old way — is to weaken the guf through fasting, discomfort, and other forms of self-denial. But there is another way.
The second approach is to elevate oneself in ruchniyus so profoundly that gashmiyus loses its pull entirely. When a person becomes deeply immersed in the sweetness of ruchniyus, physical pleasures no longer carry meaning. The taam — the taste — of ruchniyus is infinitely more geshmak.
Think back to a powerful spiritual experience. Perhaps it was when you immersed yourself in a difficult sugya for days, struggling and toiling until, at last, the chaburah clicked and the entire topic became lichtig. Or davening Ne’ilah on Yom Kippur with immense kavanah. Or sitting at seudah shlishis in camp, singing with dveikus.
In those moments, a person can become so dovuk in Hashem, so elevated, that the taste of a milkshake or barbecue no longer appeals. It might even feel meaningless — perhaps even distasteful — compared to the richness of ruchniyus.
Why? Because the beauty, the taam, and the dveikus of ruchniyus overshadow every fleeting pleasure of gashmiyus. When you’re lost in a seudah shlishis niggun, yearning for kirvas Elokim, the physical fades into the background.
Using a Geshmak in Ruchniyus to Neutralize the Gashmiyus
This was precisely Rav Elimelech’s goal in his tefillos. He sought to help us overcome the power of gashmiyus, not by afflicting ourselves but by unlocking the sweetness, the taanug and oneg of ruchniyus.
A blatt Gemara learned with depth and focus, a Shabbos experienced fully, a Yom Tov celebrated with joy, a mitzvah performed with heart, a kappitel Tehillim recited with dveikus — these are Rav Elimelech’s tools for triumphing over the yeitzer hora and achieving teshuvah without suffering.
Even in the yeshivos, the old practice of constant fasting during Elul and the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah is no longer accepted. A person needs koach to learn Torah and must have a geshmak in his learning. If he is weak and hungry, he cannot elevate himself, cannot achieve kirvas Elokim, and cannot be mechadeish or learn with depth.
For this reason, today’s derech focuses less on deprivation and more on developing a deeper connection to ruchniyus. Even bnei Torah are encouraged to build their strength to maximize their learning.
Cultivating a Taste for Ruchniyus
As we approach the days of Selichos, we must take the time and invest the effort to develop this appreciation for ruchniyus. It requires cultivation.
It’s much like fine wine. At first taste, it may seem bitter or unappealing to the untrained palate, but with time, it becomes rich, layered, and exquisite.
So too with ruchniyus. We must train ourselves to savor the beauty of a chiddush, the sweetness of a kappitel Tehillim, the joy of a mitzvah, and the elevation of a heartfelt davening.
Once we cultivate this taam, we will no longer need the empty, fleeting gratifications of gashmiyus.
Taamu ure’u ki tov Hashem!
