Why Elul needs a hard heart — and a soft one
soft heart sounds nice: warm and welcoming, like a soft pillow that invites you in to relax and just be. Poke your finger into that soft pillow and the pillow responds — you can actually see the indentation, its softness saying that there is room for someone else here.
A hard heart, on the other hand, is harsh and unforgiving — like a hard pillow that no matter how much you thump and bump it, just sits there impermeable and stuffed with itself — as if you don’t even exist.
“I will switch your heart of stone to a heart of flesh,” promises Yechezkel Hanavi. (Yechezkel 36:26) Unlike a stone heart — uncaring, unreachable, impenetrable, hard, and obtuse — a heart of flesh is open, permeable, and responsive. Indeed, the Hebrew word for flesh, “basar,” shares a root with the word l’vaser — “to inform or let know”: our fleshy skin constantly interacts with the environment and “lets us know” if something is hot or cold, prickly or cuddly. (Paraphrased from Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch.)
But is a soft (responsive, open, vulnerable) heart always good?
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