We’ve been focussing on the strength or power of the month of Elul to allow us to harness it in our quest for personal growth.
There is a well-known connection between the month of Elul and a possuk from Shir Hashirim – Ani L’dodi, v’dodi Li. I am for my Beloved, and my Beloved is for me. Whilst the intial letters of this phrase spell out the word Elul, the phrase is taken allegorically to refer to our relationship with Hashem.
In a few weeks time, we are going to be identifying with Hashem as our Father and as our King. So what is the significance of Him being our Beloved in Elul?
Do you remember being in love?
That feeling of being completely consumed by thoughts of the other person? That everything we do, we do through the lense of what will the other person think about this? How will they react? What would they like? Every part of us wants to please our Beloved, and looks for ways to show them how much they mean to us.
During Elul, this is the side of our relationship with Hashem we want to develop. We want to put His wants, needs and wishes first and foremost. And the best part is – He is doing exactly the same. This is not an unrequited love – He loves us just as much (if not more) than we love Him.
If I want to truly prioritise the wishes of my Beloved, I need to consider what is important to Him, and make these things important to myself. It’s like me trying to understand something about Operational Research and Magic the Gathering when I first met Lance! It was important to him, and so I wanted to understand it on some level so it could be important to me as well.
Luckily, Hashem comes with a manual in order to understand what is important to Him – his Torah and its 613 mitzvos. There are even York notes to help us – all the commentaries from the gemorah right up to modern seforim being written and published every day.
Stephen Covey – the father of the modern self-help and time management movement – said “My friend, love is a verb.”
As I’m sure you remember from primary school – a verb is a doing word. We can’t just be love, or feel love. It is something we have to do. We have to take action.
Barbara Fredrickson (an emotions researcher) describes love as “the preoccupying and strong desire for further connection, the powerful bonds people hold with a select few and the intimacy that grows between them, the commitments to loyalty and faithfulness”
Brene Brown and her team include in their definition of love – “Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can be cultivated between two people only when it exists within each one of them – we can love others only as much as we love ourselves.”
There is a strong parallel between the phrase Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li, and another well known phrase, this one from Rabbi Akiva – V’ahavta L’reicha K’mocha – Love your friend as you do yourself. The first refers to our relationship with Hashem, the second to our relationship with people. What they have in common is their foundation – I have to start with me.
In order to love others as I love myself, I have to first love myself – and this may take some work. And if I can be truly for my Beloved, then He will reciprocate towards me. In either case, I have to take the first step. And I would argue that the first step in building that love between us and others, or between us and Hashem – is to work on the love we have for ourselves.
How often do we take the time to understand our own wishes, needs and desires? How often do we prioritise what we actually need over what is easy, or what feels good in the moment, or whatever is shouting at us the loudest?
How often do we speak harshly to and about ourselves, instead of seeing ourselves as beloved, and seeing the best in ourselves rather than the worst? Do we speak to ourselves with compassion or judgement?
And how can we see the best in others, treat others with kindness and compassion, take a true interest in what others care about, if we can not do it for ourselves? Whether the others we mean are other people, or Hakodesh Baruch Hu.
Interestingly, there is one significant difference between the phrases v’ahavta l’reicha k’mochah and ani l’dodi v’dodi li. When we talk about loving other people, it is only about what I can or will do. I can not change other people – only myself. And so the instruction is just to love other people (and myself). It is one directional. We show love regardless of what we receive in return. (Of course, loving myself means not putting myself in harm’s way when what I receive in return is a danger to me).
However, when we talk about our love for Hashem, He says – I will reciprocate.
By making Hashem our Beloved, He will, in turn, make us His. And He is much better at this than we are!
As long as we take that first step.
However, in the same megillah that we are given the phrase ani l’dodi v’dodi li, Shlomo gives us another arresting image. He writes – “my beloved is knocking”.
This is the month of Elul.
Whenever we take that first step to make Hashem our Beloved, He will return that love.
But in Elul, He doesn’t wait. He comes knocking. He isn’t waiting for us to come to this first step by ourselves – He’s coming right to our door to make that opportunity easier. He isn’t just arriving at the door and waiting though – He is knocking on the door, to make sure we know He is there! This is the purpose of the shofar throughout the month of Elul.
Because I always love an analogy, it is a little like taking your kid’s homework books, laying them out on the table with a freshly sharpened pencil and a delicious (and healthy?) snack, and going to tell them that you’re ready to sit with them and help. But only they can actually do that homework if they want to improve their knowledge and skills.
So Hashem is knocking – are you ready to do your homework?