Elul carries a certain electricity. The air feels charged with urgency and possibility. We all know the messaging this time of year: it’s time to grow, to change, to take on big Kabbalos, to prove ourselves worthy of another year.
There’s something inspiring in that call. Big resolutions make us feel strong and capable, like we are showing Hashem that we’re ready to be different. But there’s also a shadow side. Sometimes those dramatic commitments don’t last. Sometimes, even when they do, they don’t address the root issue. And often, we’re left wondering: why do I keep circling back to the same patterns, the same struggles, year after year?
This year, I want to suggest a different way of thinking about teshuva; not as a radical leap, but as a slow chain reaction. Not as a single dramatic pivot, but as an assembly line. On an assembly line, nothing gets skipped. Each piece depends on the one that came before it. If the first step isn’t done properly, the rest of the product won’t hold together. When it comes to authentic transformation, the very first piece on this line isn’t about your behavior. It’s not even about your resolutions. It’s about your core wounds– the drivers beneath the surface that quietly, powerfully influence every choice you make. Until we acknowledge and work with that first piece, the rest of the “assembly line” can’t complete their jobs.
The Rambam describes Teshuva Gemura as reaching a point where you are so internally transformed that when faced with the same test, you do not stumble again. On the outside, that looks like unshakable resolve. But from a psychological perspective, Teshuva Gemura is not simply willpower. It’s what happens when we loosen the grip of what pulls us away from our values in the first place.
Most of us experience Teshuva in a more surface-level way. We feel regret: I messed up. We reflect, maybe do a cheshbon hanefesh. We commit: I won’t do this again. That’s sincere. That’s meaningful. What I’m about to say may surprise you, but hopefully it will also be your guiding light: that process, while good, is often not enough.
Not because you don’t care. Not because you’re not spiritual enough. But because that process skips over the part of yourself that made that choice in the first place.
You didn’t yell at your child, speak lashon hara, or avoid an important commitment because you’re “bad,” “broken,” or “unfixable.” You made that choice because, in that moment, your body, your mind, or your spirit believed it was the best way to get somewhere you desperately needed to go.
Behavior Always Makes Sense
Let me give you an example. Imagine a woman who often finds herself snapping at her husband. Every Elul, she regrets it. She takes on a new kabbalah: I will bite my tongue. I will count to three. I will learn shmiras halashon daily. Noble efforts! But inevitably, the snapping comes back.
Because beneath that “bad behavior” lies a driver. Maybe her snapping is her nervous system’s attempt to protect her from feeling ignored. Maybe it’s the only way she has learned to get her husband’s attention. Maybe it’s an echo of her childhood, when raising her voice was the only way she felt seen.
Her behavior is destructive, yes. But it also makes sense. It’s not random, and it’s not proof that she is a failure. It’s an earnest attempt to meet a need.
When she can pause long enough to ask: What purpose is this serving? What need is my snapping trying to meet? That’s when the assembly line clicks into motion. Once she makes friends with the need (in this case: connection, validation, safety), she can start meeting it differently. Maybe by expressing vulnerability instead of anger. Maybe by scheduling intentional time to talk with her husband. Maybe by learning to self-soothe before reacting.
The “unwanted” behavior slowly fades, not because she willed it away, but because it’s no longer necessary. The driver has found a better path.This is why the only way to truly transform is to get to know those drivers. They hold the key to your growth. They hold the key to your happiness.
We often think happiness means being free of discomfort. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a life void of pain, loss and discomfort. Therefore,it must be that happiness is not about avoiding pain. Happiness is about alignment– living authentically, choosing with intention, and allowing even your low moments to have integrity.
When we partner with our drivers, when we hear their case and meet their need in constructive, secure ways, the dominos begin to fall. Goodbye unwanted behavior, hello desired behavior. No more needing to malfunction just to get a basic need met. That’s when Teshuva Gemura happens.
Elul Differently
So this Elul, I want to invite you to resist the pressure for a radical overhaul. Don’t choose a kabbalah that makes your inner self feel blamed, shamed, or rejected. Don’t set yourself up for a cycle of unrealistic promises and inevitable disappointment.
Instead, pick something small. Find a single part of your life that feels off-kilter, misaligned, or damaging. Maybe it’s the way you assume things and speak about others. Maybe it’s the avoidance of a mitzvah that overwhelms you. Maybe it’s the endless scrolling that leaves you empty.
Sit with that part of yourself. Ask: Why might I function this way? What purpose does this serve? What need is it trying to meet– security, belonging, support, acceptance, control, comfort?
Then (here’s the turning point) make friends with the need. Validate it. Thank it for showing you what you’re longing for. And then, experiment with meeting it differently. Meet it in a way that aligns with your values. Meet it in a way that supports the kind of life you want to live, the kind of Jew and human you want to be. That, my friends, is the assembly line. One shift at a time. One domino tipping into the next. Progress that is gentle, real, and sustainable.
A Different Sweetness
This Elul, don’t pressure yourself into becoming someone unrecognizable overnight. Hashem doesn’t want a shiny, polished stranger standing before Him on Rosh Hashanah. He wants you. The real you. The aligned you. The you who is willing to understand yourself deeply enough to let go of what no longer serves, and embrace what does.
May we all merit the courage to sit with our wounds, the clarity to hear our needs, and the strength to align our behaviors with our highest values. And may that authentic inner work bring us into the new year with a Teshuva that is not only gemura, but also gentle, grounded, and profoundly whole.
Cedarhurst