Weekly Dvar Torah: Elul, the Homecoming Month

In a tiny, remote village, there is a community store whose walls are lined with photographs of the owner posing with countless politicians—local, state, and national. A visitor once marveled at the pictures and exclaimed, “You must be so well-connected! You can probably call the President directly!” With a knowing smile, the shopkeeper replied, “Oh, sure—during campaign season they all stop by, take pictures, shake hands, and ask for our votes. But once Election Day is over, it’s an entirely different story. Getting through to them then is nearly impossible.”

This simple anecdote reflects a profound spiritual truth about the month of Elul. Elul is our annual campaign season, when the King—Hashem Himself—leaves His palace and comes into the fields, where ordinary people work. He makes Himself accessible to everyone, regardless of clothing, status, or spiritual standing. No appointments are necessary, no protocols enforced. For twenty nine days, we are invited to approach Him directly, to speak from the heart, to ask for mercy, and to reconnect.

This imagery was beautifully articulated by the Alter Rebbe in Likkutei Torah. He explains that when a king journeys into the city, the townspeople go out to greet him in the field. At that moment, anyone who wishes may approach. The king greets each one with a smiling face, graciously receiving their requests. Once he returns to his palace, however, access is limited. Only a select few, dressed properly and bearing the right credentials, may enter. Similarly, during Elul, Hashem—the King—is in the field, greeting us in our working clothes, as we are, without requiring formality or perfection.

The Frierdiker Rebbe deepens the metaphor by adding that it is not only that “whoever wishes is permitted” to greet the king—but “whoever wishes is able.” Permission and ability merge; Hashem ensures that during Elul, each person can truly reach Him with ease.

Our Rebbe takes it a step further: not only does the King come out to the field, but when He later returns to the palace, He brings us—His subjects, every single Jew with a G-dly soul—in along with Him. We are not abandoned once the “campaign season” ends; rather, Elul becomes the preparation for Rosh Hashanah, when we crown Him King anew and enter His chambers as His inner circle.

This is the essence of Elul: a unique opportunity for Teshuva. Teshuva is often translated as “repentance,” a word heavy with guilt and remorse. But in Hebrew, Teshuva literally means “return.” It is not about self-condemnation; it is about rediscovering the divine spark within us, the true self that is always pure and connected to G-d. As Kohelet teaches, וְהָרוּחַ תָּשׁוּב אֶל הָאֱלֹקִים אֲשֶׁר נְתָנָהּ “The spirit will return to G-d who gave it.” Elul is the time when we are called to return—not to something new, but to our deepest selves.

This return is possible only because of Hashem’s infinite mercy. Elul is the month of mercy, when G-d reveals His Thirteen Attributes of Mercy to Moses after the sin of the Golden Calf. That revelation began on Rosh Chodesh Elul, when Moses ascended the mountain for the third time to plead for forgiveness. For forty days, until Yom Kippur, G-d revealed His mercy, culminating in the words “I have forgiven as you asked.” Ever since, the days of Elul shine with mercy and forgiveness, offering us the chance to wipe the slate clean and prepare for a sweet new year.

This is why Elul’s very name—Elul (אלול)—forms the acronym Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li—“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Unlike other holidays that celebrate spectacular miracles—Exodus on Pesach, Torah on Shavuos, clouds of glory on Sukkos—Elul is about quiet intimacy. It is about G-d seeking us out in the simplicity of the field, and us reaching back toward Him with sincerity. There are no trumpets, no fireworks, no formality. Just closeness.

And this mercy is not only divine; it is ingrained within the Jewish soul itself. The very word Yisrael contains G-d’s merciful Name, E-l. Rearranged, it spells Yisar E-l—“mastered by G-d’s mercy.” This is why Jews are instinctively compassionate, always the first to help after disasters, regardless of nationality or creed. Mercy is in our spiritual DNA. During Elul, we reawaken that mercy within ourselves to meet G-d’s mercy. When our compassion stirs, it aligns with His, and forgiveness flows.

Teshuva is a miraculous gift. The Talmud teaches that in the place where repenters stand, even the most righteous cannot stand. Why? Because return involves a depth of struggle, a recognition of distance, and an intense yearning to reconnect that creates a bond stronger than ever before. In Elul, G-d grants us this power of return—an ability not only to repair the past but to rise higher than we were before.

This is the blessing proclaimed in this week’s Torah portion: “See, I am giving you today blessing.” What greater blessing could there be than the gift of renewal? The ability to leave behind yesterday’s stains and begin anew, fresh and clean like a newborn. Elul is that gift, that blessing, that invitation.

So how do we seize it? By speaking honestly to the King in the field. By taking stock of our lives and deciding to return—not only to G-d but to ourselves. By awakening mercy within us toward others, just as we seek it from Heaven. By remembering that Elul is not merely a campaign season that ends on Rosh Hashanah, but the preparation for being drawn into the King’s palace as His beloved children.

The Rambam assures us that the Torah itself promises: “Israel will do Teshuva, and immediately she will be redeemed.” In other words, the end of the story is already written. Teshuva is not only about personal forgiveness; it is about cosmic redemption. Elul is not only preparation for Rosh Hashanah; it is preparation for Moshiach.

So let us take this month seriously. Let us welcome the King in the field, speak to Him as we are, and let Him see us in our work clothes, with all our imperfections. He smiles at us there. He welcomes us there. And when He returns to His palace, He brings us with Him, into His innermost chambers, forever.

Have a campaign-of-the-soul Shabbos,
Gut Shabbos,

Rabbi Yosef Katzman