The Jewish calendar concludes with a month called Elul, the month that prepares us for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the month in which the sound of the shofar is heard in synagogues. During it, we add the "Selichot," prayers of penitence, and begin to feel the atmosphere of the Days of Awe.Rabbi Israel Salanter, founder of the Mussar movement — the movement that transformed the approach to interpersonal commandments in Eastern Europe — relates that in his youth, whenever a man prayed the blessing of the new month in synagogue and heard the cantor say "Rosh Chodesh Elul," the first day of the month of Elul, he would be seized with trembling, afraid of the Divine Judgment of the Month of Tishrei, yearning for the Creator to bless him with a good year.Back then, people worried about what would become of them when they stood before God on the Day of Judgment. As Rabbi Amnon of Mainz describes in the "Unetaneh Tokef" prayer, even the angels were afraid: "And the angels will be dismayed, and fear and trembling will seize them, and they will say: behold, the Day of Judgment, to bring the heavenly host to judgment, for they shall not be innocent in Your eyes in judgment. And all who enter the world shall pass before You."This is how people felt in those days — genuine dread and fear of the approaching Day of Judgment. And throughout the month of Elul, they examined their deeds, prayed with greater intention, were careful to give charity and help others, and hoped that perhaps by virtue of the positive change in their deeds, God would bless them.Anyone who meets Jews in our generation is not left with that impression. We do not see people fearing the Day of Judgment on Rosh Hashanah. We do not find people frightened and alarmed. True, the melodies of the Rosh Hashanah and Selichot prayers are mournful, and they stir people and cause them to pay attention to the words and feel a desire for holiness, but we do not hear anyone feeling truly afraid or even worried. We are not given the impression that people are anxious about "what will be" during the month of Elul any more than during other days of the year.Could it be that we are more righteous than our ancestors, and that is why we do not worry? Is it true that they were sinners and therefore feared and dreaded divine judgment, but we have nothing to worry about? The mind and heart refuse to accept this answer. Does reason really say that we are not necessarily more connected to God and holiness than previous generations? We also know where the month of Elul finds us — not necessarily in a feeling of closeness to God.So what has changed in us that we are no longer so troubled?King Solomon says in the Book of Proverbs, "For the commandment is a lamp, and the Torah is light." That is, every commandment we perform illuminates our personality, our heart, our world — and brings us joy. And the study of Torah? It is a beam of light, a searchlight, that shines and illuminates all around us.But this is conditional.Conditional on our feeling that way. Conditional on our internalizing that the commandments guide us onto a good path — that by observing them we succeed in overcoming negative desires and build ourselves into a pleasing dwelling for God and for our fellow human beings. Conditional on our living with the understanding that the Torah is our light. That it illuminates our lives on joyful days and on difficult days. That the Torah is our essence as a Jewish people, and that the Book of Books is the foundation of our existence and essence.The moment we understand this — the moment we live by the light of these understandings — then we will begin to search and examine whether we are close to the light or far from it. Whether through our deeds over the course of the year we have drawn closer, or, God forbid, the opposite. For if we truly felt how every good and positive act plants within us another seedling of truth and honesty, and every commandment we fulfill adds another drop of light of purity and holiness to our personality — if that were truly so, then we would also understand that every transgression distances us from the light, that it is like a cloud darkening our soul, and then we would also feel sorrow and disappointment every time we sinned against the tradition of our ancestors.If this were indeed so, then clearly during this month we would be searching for how to illuminate the soul once again, how to draw close once more to the feeling of divinity and holiness. But if we perform the commandments without enthusiasm, then the light of the commandment is also weak and does not illuminate and warm our hearts, and the darkness of transgression does not pain us.The Alter Rebbe of Chabad taught us that during this month, "the King is in the field." The King of the world, God, is closer to His creatures than at any other time of the year. For God is like a father who loves His children and wants to draw close to them, in order to shine His great light upon them once again, to guide them on the path by which they can draw closer to Him.So when we understand and internalize the great light of the Torah and its commandments, when we wish to draw close to the King and feel that He desires our closeness, then we will prepare ourselves through prayer and good deeds during the month of Elul, and we will arrive at the Day of Judgment knowing that we have merited to be members of the household of the King of the World, who loves us and desires our good.
Rabbi David Lau is the former Chief Rabbi of Israel
