We’re a generation that doesn’t get inspired by talk of fear and dread. Is there another language we can access to turn around our relationship with Hashem?

E

very year in the beginning of Elul, I remember an encounter I had with a taxi driver who gave me a special gift.

I had to get from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv, where I was living at the time, and flagged down the first cab I spotted. But when I opened the door to get in, I hesitated. The driver’s bizarre appearance, I admit, was a bit frightening. His hair was so long and wild that it covered half his face, his poor excuse for a shirt showed off intricate tattoos on his biceps, and frankly, I just didn’t think he’d be a safe traveling companion.

But he noticed my hesitation and actually gave me an encouraging smile. I didn’t want to insult him, so I climbed into the back seat and prayed for a safe ride. We drove off, and after a few moments he suddenly said, “I’m ashamed!”

Politeness (or was it fear?) prompted me to ask, “What are you ashamed of?” Instead of answering, he stretched his hand upward. Wanting to make sure I got the point, he explained, “I’m ashamed in front of Him up there.”

“Him?” I asked. “You mean HaKadosh Baruch Hu?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I feel ashamed in front of Him.” It was the last thing I would have expected.

“You know, He showers me with so many favors and blessings,” the young man stated unabashedly. “Everything in my life is going great… and that’s why I feel ashamed — because… well, look at me. I’m not exactly a paragon of righteousness.”

I was very surprised, and very moved.

So here we are again at the beginning of Elul. Perhaps it’s time to admit the truth: We know what we’re supposed to be feeling during this gifted, exalted time when Hashem is so close, waiting for us to turn to Him in our desire for an intensified relationship. But for all that, many of us just don’t feel the sense of fear and awe that we saw in our roshei yeshivos or other spiritual mentors. What was the taxi driver’s secret?

We may have heard the words of Rav Yisrael Salanter, who spearheaded the modern mussar revival, from his collected letters, recalling “the bygone days, when every man was seized with dread at the voice announcing the sanctification of Elul” (letter 14). So what happened? Intellectually, we know that some sort of serious move is expected of us. We know that now is our chance to change inwardly, drawing closer to Hashem. Yet over the years I’ve so often heard from various people, “It just doesn’t happen. I’ve learned all the seforim, but… it just doesn’t happen.”

Let’s suppose that we’ve actually experienced a certain spiritual uplift. We’ve managed to rise to a point where we can see slightly beyond the bounds of our material existence, and we feel the neshamah’s longing to do teshuvah properly, to rush into the Creator’s embrace. We’ve even managed to commit ourselves to several serious resolutions for the future.

And then the year goes by, and another year, and another… and in the course of every one of those years, including the one that has just ended, the resolutions we made firmly and sincerely slowly faded away, mingling with the dust behind us on the road of everyday life. Again, we promise to change, and the following year we make more promises. And what are the results? Better not to talk about that. The most troubling part is that we know from past experience that we won’t stick to our resolutions for long. Even the fear of judgment doesn’t help.

“In our generation, too much preoccupation with the fear of judgment is liable to do further damage, not to mention the fact that we can see for ourselves that it doesn’t achieve its goals, writes Rav Yochanan Eber in a thought-provoking booklet entitled Teshuvah. “If a bochur in our times dwells on the possibility of terrible punishments meted out Above, it will be a stumbling block for him. This is because in the past, fear of punishment came together with the pleasantness of coming close to Hashem, but in this impoverished generation, which has difficulty sensing this pleasantness, fear is liable to distance a person from HaKadosh Baruch Hu. To today’s bochur, it’s like the fear of danger, which makes a person run away from what he fears, not come close to it.”

Fear and dread might once have been great motivators for Chodesh Elul, but, says Rav Eber, it’s not the language, or the avodah, of this generation. In fact, he says, if we try to activate that fear, it often has the opposite effect of driving us further from HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

So how do we develop that sense of closeness that our neshamah longs for? We switch the word “fear” for “gratitude.”

He cites the words of Rav Yisrael Salanter’s star talmid, Rav Itchele Blazer, who would base all his Elul shmuessen on the obligation of gratitude toward HaKadosh Baruch Hu, Who, in His great and surpassing kindness, desires our repentance and erases our sins. Rav Avraham Grodzinsky Hy”d, the famous mashgiach of Yeshivas Slabodka who perished in the Holocaust, once asked him why he wasn’t following the derech of his rebbi, Rav Yisrael Salanter ztz”l, who would give stirring speeches on fear of Hashem and dread of judgment. Rav Itchele answered that Rav Yisrael’s derech was suited to his spiritual level, but for us, it is better to work on teshuvah based on love of Hashem.

Rav Eber goes on to cite the approach of the venerated mashgiach of Yeshivas Kol Torah, Rav Gedaliah Eisenman ztz”l, whose shmuessen I myself will never forget. “Service of Hashem in these times should not be based on thinking much about fear of punishment,” Rav Gedaliah would say. It’s the other way, the way of hakaras hatov, that can give us a fresh approach to teshuvah during this period. It means not trying to force a sense of dread, which is not for this generation’s heart — but to cultivate love and desire for closeness to the Source of all Being.

It was that taxi driver who showed me what it means to have gratitude, to recognize the source of one’s good fortune, to honor the myriad gifts Hashem showers us with daily. After I arrived home, my hand landed on a sefer with a quote from the Baal Shem Tov that goes something like this: Sometimes, when HaKadosh Baruch Hu wants to wake a person up, He showers him with kindness in order to make him feel ashamed that he keeps so far away from his loving Father.

I was awed — finally, a key to a personal relationship with Hashem — it’s called constant cultivation of gratitude. And even if the daily grind of life robs us of the ability to feel overwhelming gratitude every time we recite the Asher Yatzar prayer, each of us can focus on some positive gift we’ve been given — even if it’s as “regular” as the ability to breathe. This, so much more than fire and brimstone, will lead us to improve our ways, because like that taxi driver from Tel Aviv, we too will be too ashamed not to connect.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 776)