In the month of Tishrei, a new year begins. This is an opportunity for improvement and renewal, as the sages said, "Renew your deeds, improve your deeds." But can we truly change the basic nature with which we were born? Does the new year bring real change, or are we simply repeating the same patterns of behavior?
Change of Character or Refinement of Behavior and Traits?
In the chasidic understanding of the psyche, there are two opposing approaches to the question of whether a person can change:
One approach teaches that it is possible to fundamentally change a person's nature, for the entire world is continuously created anew at every moment. Hence, nothing is truly fixed or stable, and everything can change. Properly understood, this approach does not rely solely on the individual’s own power but on the Divine assistance that one receives from the Creator. This assistance is not seen as an impossible miracle but as tangible, practical help that a person will receive if he asks.
In contrast to the first approach stands another, which claims that our basic character is fixed, accompanying us from birth until death, and all attempts to change it are destined to fail. Of course, this assertion that one cannot change does not absolve us of responsibility for our actions or exempt us from the need for self-work and progress. Rather, the required effort is purely behavioral change, not an internal transformation of emotions and character tendencies, and it is a waste of time and energy to attempt an impossible change. Furthermore, not only can we change our actions, restrain ourselves, and channel our energies positively, but we can also refine our character traits. It is explained that while a person cannot fundamentally alter his inherent character traits, he can change the manner in which these traits express themselves, so that they appear in a softer, more refined form rather than in a harsh and domineering one. For example, a naturally angry person cannot become inherently calm and lenient. But in addition to avoiding angry actions such as raising his voice or, heaven forbid, violence, he can refine his emotional response, replacing the overwhelming emotion of anger with a more measured, intellectual type of strictness.
Thus, each of these approaches demands personal effort, and the question is only about what to work on – changing our character or refining it. Changing personality patterns or merely correcting actions? In the Torah generally, and particularly in Chasidut, the principle is “Both these and those are the words of the Living God.” Each approach has its place in the inner work of the soul, and fruitful results emerge precisely from the encounter between them. In the month of Tishrei, whose mazal is the scales, there is a special power to balance both approaches within the soul. Let us examine how, over the course of the month, a person moves between these two mindsets regarding the possibility of change.
Rosh Hashanah – Change Begins from the Head
Between the approach that claims a person can fundamentally change and the approach that views character as unchangeable, there lies a fundamental difference in how the human being is perceived. A person is composed of intellect, emotional qualities, and behavioral patterns (known as muskal, murgash, mutba in the language of Kabbalah). A person's fixed character is primarily reflected in emotional traits and behavioral patterns, while the intellect, being abstract and objective, is more flexible and open to learning and change. Therefore, those who emphasize the emotional and behavioral dimensions of a person’s character tend to view it as difficult to change, suggesting instead that it can only be refined and channeled properly. However, the more one believes in working through the intellect, the more possible change seems. If emotions and behavioral patterns stem from the intellect’s perception of reality, then working on intellectual change can naturally lead to changes in a person’s character.
In other words, change begins from the head, and thus the consciousness of the possibility of change is especially relevant to Rosh Hashanah. In the Book of Ezekiel, Yom Kippur is also referred to as "Rosh Hashanah," indicating that during the entire "Ten Days of Repentance" (from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur), a person is capable of undergoing a significant transformation in his character, and that is the task of these days. The ten days correspond to the ten sefirot, which are mirrored in the person’s faculties, and each day of the Ten Days of Repentance is an opportunity to focus on changing one of these traits. In the language of Kabbalah, the ten sefirot form a "partzuf" (a full persona), and during these days, a person shapes the form of his inner self for the coming year.
With all the importance of the Days of Repentance, which demand significant personal effort toward fundamental change, this is not meant to be our constant mode of service. The attempt to change oneself is, in essence, a focus on oneself, even if for positive purposes, while the service of God is based on going beyond ourselves—turning upward, toward God, and outward, fulfilling our role in reality. In the analogy of our relationship with God to that of a couple, there are times when we retreat inward, feeling that personal flaws have created a problematic relationship. However, ultimately, we must move beyond introspection, turning outward again, with both strengths and weaknesses, and making the most of that.
Furthermore, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, along with the days between them, are called the “Days of Awe.” One might think that the possibility of change brings a sense of ease, but in truth, it carries immense responsibility and awe—nothing is set or predetermined, and everything depends on you! Additionally, making one's personality so ‘fluid’ can leave us with an existential uncertainty about who we truly are since everything we know about ourselves is subject to change, and it is possible that our true self should be entirely different. This is another reason why the awareness of change—both wondrous and awe-inspiring—should be concentrated into these ten days alone, rather than living in that mindset throughout the entire year.
Completion and Joy – From the Days of Awe to the Joy of Sukkot
Therefore, the second half of the month of Tishrei is dedicated to the consciousness that change is no longer possible. A person must recognize that even if it was possible to reshape himself in the first part of the month, that time has passed, and now he must turn to serving God according to his existing nature, without illusions of personality transformation. This mindset characterizes the holiday of Sukkot, where each of the four species symbolizes a different type of service of God—the beautiful etrog represents the tzaddik, the lulav symbolizes Torah scholars, the myrtle branches represent those with good deeds and qualities, and the willow symbolizes those who have neither taste nor scent (neither Torah nor good deeds). When we hold these species together, we understand that God desires service from individuals with all kinds of natures. And even if we realize that we are like the willow, we must still fulfill our role and not waste time trying to become an etrog.
In this light, the four days between Yom Kippur and Sukkot are days of acceptance and completion. After the work of personal transformation has ended, we must look in the mirror and accept what is reflected, whether we have successfully renewed ourselves or whether we still see the same face from last year. In Kabbalistic terms, these four days correspond to the four letters of God's Name—Yud-Heh-Vav-Heh. Each letter symbolizes a particular aspect of the soul, with which a person must come to terms on each of the four days: On the first day, we must accept that we will not be wiser or more creative than we currently are. On the second day we must come to terms with the extent of our knowledge and let go of the fantasy of becoming a scholar who knows the entire Torah by heart. On the third day we must reconcile with our existing emotional traits (perhaps the hardest task), and on the fourth day we must accept that our ability to influence and express ourselves in the world is limited.
Just as the possibility of change induces awe, so too does acceptance of our current reality, filling us with joy. "There is no greater joy than the resolution of doubt," and this acceptance frees us from existential uncertainty about our character, allowing us to fully commit, with a sense of inner wholeness, to our life's mission. In the analogy of the relationship of a couple, when we emerge from our introspection, we turn back toward our partner, and the atmosphere is filled with the joy of a bride and groom who ‘reunite’ after each has rebuilt his own identity. The pinnacle of Sukkot’s joy is the Simchat Beit Hashoevah, and our Sages taught that “from there they would draw Divine inspiration.” Out of this acceptance and joy in our renewed relationship with God, our life mission becomes clear—this is the Divine inspiration, full of joy, that will guide our work throughout the coming year.
