By Rabbi Levi Simon, Chabad of Greater Dayton

Picture this: A king who is powerful, wise, and rules over everything. Normally, he is in his palace, surrounded by walls, guards, and ceremony. To get an audience with him, you need the right connections, the right credentials, the right words. Most people never make it past the gates.

But once a year, something remarkable happens.

The king leaves the palace. He walks out beyond the city walls, into an open field, and he stands there, accessible to everyone. No appointments. No gatekeepers. No judgment about who you are, where you’ve been, or how long it’s been since you last visited. He receives each person with a warm and radiant countenance.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, used this image to describe Elul. During this month, God steps out of the palace and comes to us. All year long, approaching God can feel like a climb, something that requires effort, preparation, worthiness. But in Elul, the distance collapses. God takes the first step toward us.

For many Jews, the approach of the High Holiday season carries a familiar weight. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are serious days, days of judgment, of accounting, of standing before the Almighty and taking stock of who we are and who we want to become.

That is real, and it is important. But Elul exists precisely so that we don’t arrive at those days cold. The month of Elul is our runway, our preparation, a full 30 days of gradual, gentle return.

The Hebrew word teshuva is often translated as repentance, but its literal meaning is return. It’s like coming home after a long journey, simply turning back in the right direction.

And here is what makes Elul so extraordinary: even the motivation to return, the quiet feeling stirring somewhere inside you that says maybe this year could be different, isn’t something you manufactured on your own.

The Rebbe teaches that even our desire to come closer begins with God. He gives us the strength and longing to reach out, and then invites us to take the next step.

The King doesn’t simply wait in the field; He is the One who first awakens the desire to walk toward Him.

So no one is starting from zero. No one has been away too long. No one needs to have the right words ready, or the right amount of Jewish knowledge, or a spotless record. Everyone who shows up is welcome.

Each morning of Elul, the shofar is sounded in synagogues, that ancient call of the ram’s horn. It isn’t a demand. It is an invitation. The King is here. In the field. Right now. Come.

You don’t need to have everything figured out. The King is already in the field, smiling, waiting to welcome you.

To read the complete August 2026 Dayton Jewish Observer, click here.