By Cailin Acosta in San Diego
As Beth Jacob Congregation’s second session of the “Four Elements of Teshuvah” class began, Brandon Fisher offered a brief review for those who had missed the previous week. The discussion returned to Rosh Hashanah and the significance of the day in the Jewish understanding of creation.
While the creation of the world began six days earlier, Rosh Hashanah marks the sixth day of creation, the day Adam, and humanity, were created. According to this perspective, Rosh Hashanah is not simply a celebration of the beginning of the physical world, but a celebration of what it means to be human.
Humans are unique because they possess both an animalistic side, driven by instinct and physical desires, and a spiritual side, the neshamah, that calls them toward holiness and a higher purpose. “The body desires the animalistic desires, and the soul desires the spiritual and holy things,” one participant said.
Fisher agreed, explaining that the human task is to bring these two sides together. He offered the example of tefillin, a mezuzah, or a Torah scroll: physical materials derived from the animal world can be transformed into something holy. Likewise, human beings are given the ability to elevate their physical instincts through conscious choices.
The question, then, becomes which is controlling? Do we rule over our desires, or do our desires rule over us? The discussion turned naturally toward teshuvah, especially the annual opportunity to examine our behavior and resolve to change. If the neshamah is a pure, God-given spiritual element within us, why do we continue to make mistakes?
Fisher compared this struggle to New Year’s resolutions. Statistics frequently cited about resolutions suggest that many people abandon their goals surprisingly quickly, with a significant percentage giving up within the first week or by the end of January. The problem, he suggested, may be that people approach resolutions as temporary goals rather than genuine opportunities for transformation. “One percent change” can be more meaningful than an unrealistic promise to completely reinvent oneself overnight, he explained. Small changes can gradually alter the trajectory of a person’s life.
This idea also applies to Jewish education and transformative experiences. Fisher shared his experience participating in an intensive Israel educational trip that profoundly changed his own life. The goal of such experiences, he explained, is not necessarily to transform someone completely in two weeks, but to make a small enough change that can eventually lead to a much larger one.
A central theme of the class was a phrase found in Rashi’s commentary on Exodus: kol hatchalot kashot “all beginnings are difficult.” Rashi explains that accepting the “yoke of the commandments” may initially be difficult but ultimately becomes more pleasant. Fisher connected this teaching to the challenge of making any meaningful change.
The beginning itself may not always be the hardest part. Sometimes the real challenge appears weeks or months later, when the initial excitement has disappeared. One participant pointed out that Judaism recognizes this reality in many areas of life. Even learning Gemara, particularly when beginning with unfamiliar Aramaic terminology and concepts, can be extremely difficult at first.
The concept also appears in the Jewish understanding of Shanah Rishonah, the first year of marriage, which carries particular responsibilities and expectations. Fisher shared an example of a rabbi who chose to spend more time with his wife during that first year rather than continuing his usual evening learning schedule. Although others worried that he might sacrifice his potential as a Torah scholar, he understood that building his marriage was the priority at that stage of his life. The lesson was clear: meaningful beginnings require commitment, patience and an understanding that difficulty is part of the process.
Fisher then introduced one of the class’s central metaphors: the “dragon.” For the purposes of the class, the dragon represents the yetzer hara, the internal force that gets in the way of our growth. It is part of us yet can feel as though it is working against us. The yetzer hara may tell us to take the easy path, give in to insecurity, abandon our goals or settle for less than our potential.
Fisher connected this internal struggle to the biblical concept of Amalek, suggesting that the external battles we see in the world can also reflect struggles taking place within ourselves. Yet the dragon is not simply an enemy to be destroyed. When we learn to overcome it, the very force that once seemed to work against us can become a source of strength. The challenge itself becomes an opportunity for growth.
The class then began exploring the first of the four elements: fire. According to the traditional framework discussed in the class, human beings are composed of four fundamental elements—fire, air, water and earth. Fisher noted that different Jewish sources, including the Rambam, Kabbalistic teachings and the Maharal, approach the elements in different ways.
For the class, each element represents a different dimension of human behavior. Each can exist in excess, in deficiency or in balance. Fire was associated with passion, energy and control. Too much fire can become rage. Like a forest fire, unchecked passion can break through boundaries and become destructive. It can cause people to act impulsively, start conflicts or make decisions they later regret. Too little fire, on the other hand, can manifest as a lack of energy or motivation. A person may feel incapable of taking control of his or her life and simply drift along, allowing circumstances to dictate what happens. The goal, Fisher explained, is balance.
This led to a discussion of internal versus external locus of control. When people believe that everything happening in their lives is caused by outside circumstances, they may feel powerless. Conversely, they may attempt to control everything around them, reacting aggressively when circumstances do not go their way. Road rage provided a humorous everyday example. When another driver cuts someone off, the driver who becomes enraged is allowing another person’s behavior to determine his or her emotional response. The challenge is not necessarily to control the other driver—but to control oneself.
The discussion concluded with an important distinction from the Rambam. While Judaism generally emphasizes finding a balanced middle path between extremes, anger is different. According to Rambam, anger is one trait for which there is no appropriate middle ground. Rather than learning to manage a “healthy amount” of anger, people should distance themselves from it entirely.
That teaching brought the class back to the central theme of teshuvah: the goal is not simply to make a resolution for the coming year. It is to understand ourselves well enough to recognize the forces that repeatedly pull us away from our highest potential. The four elements offer a framework for that self-examination. By recognizing where we have too much, too little or the right balance, we can begin to understand our own “dragons” and, ultimately, learn how to master them.
As the month of Elul approaches Rosh Hashanah, the challenge is not to promise perfection. It is to begin the work of change, knowing that, as Rashi reminds us, all beginnings are difficult.
Fisher’s 4 Elements of Teshuvah Series will continue at 8:30 p.m., Tuesday, September 1 at Beth Jacob Congregation. Click here to join the WhatsApp group for more information.
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Cailin Acosta is the assistant editor of the San Diego Jewish World.