Elul 5785: Magic is alive. God is afoot.
When I first met God, it felt like a wonderful yet terrible secret — something I quickly understood had to be kept close. At fifteen, a sudden, embodied encounter with the Holy One left me wordless yet inscribed with a grammar of Divine service. It was not something I could speak of with my parents, my peers, or even at synagogue. What I did know was that divinity had appeared where no one told me to expect it. And ever since, my work has been to widen that field — to make room for the Presence to be met not only in sanctuaries or texts, but in the ordinary, the hidden, the overlooked, and yes, in the altered states of consciousness that return us to the heart of wonder. When that magic is alive, we remember that God’s presence can break in anywhere — and our task is to widen the field of encounter so that others, too, can step inside.
One of the core texts of this season of rededicating ourselves to our practice and our commitments is the famous piece by the Alter Rebbe, the first spiritual leader of the Chabad movement. In his Likkutei Torah, he offers a parable that has become inseparable from Elul, the month that leads us into the High Holidays.
He writes: “Before the king enters the city, the people of the city go out to greet him and receive him in the field. There, anyone who wishes may approach him, and he receives them all with a cheerful face and a smiling countenance. But once he has entered his royal palace, only the select few may enter with permission.”
This parable reframes the entire season. God is not only a distant monarch, locked away behind the walls of a palace, accessible only to the elite. In Elul, the King comes into the field — into the open, ordinary spaces where we live our lives. Everyone, no matter their spiritual standing, can step forward to meet the Presence and is received with a radiant smile. The field, of course, is both literal and symbolic. It is the unadorned landscape of our daily lives — kitchens, sidewalks, commutes, arguments, reconciliations, the texture of our bodies and breath. To say that “the King is in the field” is to say that holiness is not remote, but already moving through the ordinary, waiting to be met.
The Altar Rebbe continues: So it is by way of parable in the month of Elul: we go out to greet the light of the Divine Presence in the field. As it is written, “May God cause His face to shine upon you” (Numbers 6:25). This refers to the shining of the Thirteen Attributes of Compassion, revealed face to face. That is, the innermost Divine will shines to the root of the souls of Israel — provided that our own innermost will is directed to Him, to cleave to Him with heart and soul, from the very depth of the heart, with self-surrender…
This is an astonishing image. Face to face means no veil, no barrier. It is the inner will of God shining directly into the innermost root of the soul. And yet — there is a condition. The Alter Rebbe is careful to say: this shining only lands if our own inner will is turned toward God. It requires what he calls lev v’nefesh me-umka d’liba — heart and soul from the very depths of the heart — and mesirat nefesh — self-surrender. So Elul is not passive. The King is indeed out in the field, smiling and available, but the encounter only happens if we, too, bring our innermost self into the meeting. The smile awakens something in us, and the response must be total: not surface piety, not borrowed gestures, but the depth of our heart turned outward, willing to cleave, willing to yield.
From a psychedelic perspective, this feels familiar. There are moments in the journey when the Presence is suddenly there — radiant, loving, overwhelming. But the experience only deepens if I let go into it. If I resist, analyze, or clutch, the light skims the surface. But if I surrender, even for a moment, the current flows all the way through: panim el panim — face to face. The Alter Rebbe’s teaching is that Elul is already charged with this quality. The King is here, the light is already shining, the field is alive. The question is whether I will risk showing up with my whole heart, whether I will surrender enough to let the encounter be real.
To support these inner movements, we’re providing you with an Elul Field Guide for the weeks leading up to Rosh HaShanah. As the Alter Rebbe teaches, the King is already in the field. Our task is to step forward with the fullness of who we are — body, heart, mind, and soul — and to practice turning face to face, panim el panim. The NaranChai Model of Holistic Integration offers us a way to do this week by week, with gentle cheshbonot (soul-accountings) as our companions.
Week 1 — Cheshbon HaNefesh (Body & Action)
Walk, eat, breathe as if God were already there with you. Ask: where did I feel Presence in my body today, and where did I hide?
Week 2 — Cheshbon HaRuach (Emotion & Breath)
Bring your emotions into the field. Each night name one aloud, and imagine God’s smile receiving it. Ask: which feelings did I welcome into God’s presence, and which did I keep away?
Week 3 — Cheshbon HaNeshamah (Mind & Intention)
Set one kavvanah each morning: Today I turn my face toward You. At day’s end ask: where did my thoughts draw me closer, and where did they distract me?
Week 4 — Cheshbon HaChayah (Expanded Awareness)
Breathe the words rachum v’chanun (compassionate and gracious) during a short walk doing a simple task. Offer that compassion outward. Ask: when today did I feel myself part of something larger than my own story?
Culmination — Cheshbon HaYechidah (Oneness & Surrender)
Experiment with one small act of letting go. Whisper: I yield to You. Ask: where did surrender open me into Presence, and where did clinging close me off?
By moving through these layers, Elul becomes a month of integration — not only preparation for the Days of Awe, but practice in widening the field of encounter and drawing forth our own magic to encounter God in our midst. When the shofar sounds, may we already be standing there, face to face, ready.
Hodesh tov,
Z
