Second Innocence: The Transformative Power of Elul
Elul’s astrological sign is Virgo, a symbol of innocence. What does this teach us about this month’s inner work?
One of the spiritual properties of each Hebrew month is its astrological sign. Although Judaism forbids using astrology for prediction, it does not dismiss astrology’s value as a symbolic system which can be used to understand Creation.
The sign of the month of Elul is Virgo. How come the last month of the year is represented by a sign that symbolizes primordiality, and what does this teach us about the spiritual work of Elul?
Virginity as Metaphor
Virginity is a mysterious and fascinating phenomenon. For unknown reasons, a woman’s transition from innocence to experience creates an irreversible physical change in her body. The loss of virginity marks the passage from an initial state where a woman is, so to speak, enclosed within herself, unvisited by a man and not yet able to conceive, to a mature state where a certain barrier between the her “I” and “Thou” has fallen, and she is able to literally contain another person—first her spouse and then their shared child.
Female virginity can serve as a metaphor for a psychological phenomenon which exists in all human beings, both men and women. We all grow up enclosed within ourselves, unknown to others, and, to a large extent, even to ourselves. This is a state of blissful innocence, devoid of crises or catastrophes, but it is also marked by a kind of “barrenness”: we are unable to be “fertilized” by others. This state can only end through a certain crisis, in which the walls of our childhood home are shattered, and we are exposed to the full reality of the other. This crisis is painful, but afterward, we are more mature and open, able to receive a new perspective and allow it to fertilize us.
But now the question arises: if the loss of virginity in the psychological sense happens to both men and women, what does it mean that physically it only exists in women?
The Feminine Layers of the Soul
According to the inner teachings of the Torah, there are masculine and feminine layers within the human soul. These layers exist in both men and women, with the masculine layers usually more dominant in in men and the feminine layers usually more dominant in women. The fact that the hymen is specifically female organ means that psychological virginity exists specifically in the feminine layers of our psyche, and that’s also where the “loss of virginity” crisis occurs.
We speak of masculine and feminine layers in plural because according to Kabbalah the soul consists of two masculine layers and two feminine layers. Above these pairs of layers is a fifth layer which transcends gender, hinted at by the verse “male and female He created them... and called their name Adam” (Genesis 5:2)—i.e. a state of being in which the masculine and the feminine are one (we discussed the five levels of the soul here).
Below is the full correspondence between the five layers of the soul and their gendered characteristics.
Layer of the Soul | Gender Characteristic Yechidah “Male and female He created them” Chayah Male Neshamah Female Ruach Male Nefesh Female
As we can see, there are two feminine layers in the soul—nefesh and neshamah. This means that there are also two levels of virginity in the soul, and we must distinguish between them.
Proceeding from below to above, the first feminine layer we encounter is called nefesh. This is the most natural and basic level, home to the flow of sensations directly experienced by consciousness. To imagine this layer, think of a young girl—an innocent child to whom every experience is novel and exciting.
The second feminine layer, neshamah, is much higher. This layer is not immediately directly experienced but rather is revealed gradually to those who refine and purify their souls. To imagine it, think of a mature mother—a wise woman who “conceives” deep insights, “births” them into awareness, and then “nurtures” and grows them.
According to these definitions, it seems that only the nefesh layer can be associated with virginity. Indeed, this layer is characterized by emotional innocence, and the maturation process described above, where we emerge from the bubble of childhood, primarily occurs here. Once it happens, in a sense, there’s no going back.
However, the inner teachings of Torah reveal that the neshamah layer too retains a type of virgin innocence. The true character of the neshamah/mother archetype is that of a woman how has retained a childlike spark, who is both seasoned and innocent at the same time. The neshamah layer combines the life experience of a mother with the innocence of a child.
In fact, we could go further and say that the virginity of the neshamah is loftier and more profound than that of the nefesh. While the nefesh’s innocence is childish and fleeting, that of the neshamah is not dependent on mundane events and is not shattered by one upheaval or another. It is a mature innocence, like that of someone who’s seen and heard everything, yet knows that all the wonders of the world don’t exhaust its miraculousness, and all its tragedies don’t extinguish its goodness. This unique blend of innocence and experience is the secret of the renewal of youth within the mature soul, and when youth is renewed in adulthood, it is far more appreciated than it was in its original form.
The concept that the virginity of the neshamah is superior to that of the nefesh is illustrated by a beautiful gematria. If you look at the Hebrew word for virgin, בתולה (betulah), you can see it is made up of the two letters בת—bat, i.e. “daughter” or “girl”—and three additional letters, ולה. Incredibly, these three letters equal exactly 41, the numerical value of the word אם, em, i.e. “mother”! In other words, in Hebrew “virgin” equals exactly “girl” plus “mother.” This suggests that true virginity is the combination of youthful innocence and maternal maturity.
End of the Beginning, Beginning of the End
In fact, not only the symbol of Virgo but the entire month of Elul carries within it the opposites of innocence and experience.
A fundamental characteristic of the Jewish calendar is that, in fact, there are two of them! What we refer to as “the year cycle” is actually composed of two overlapping cycles: the annual cycle, which begins with Rosh Hashanah in Tishrei, and the months cycle, which starts with Nissan, the biblical “first month” (Tishrei is actually the seventh month). These two cycles intersect at the exact middle: Rosh Hashanah occurs precisely in the middle of the months cycle, and the first day of Nissan falls precisely in the middle of the yearly cycle.1
This fascinating fact generates a unique, layered experience of time: at any given moment, we are not only located at one point in the yearly cycle, but simultaneously inhabit two such points. This experience is felt most intensely at the two above moments of intersection: the first day of Tishrei and the first day of Nissan. Each of these moments is not only the beginning and end of its respective cycle, but is also the midpoint of the other.
We can thus say that these two moments not only represent the end of one yearly cycle and the beginning of another, but also represent “end of the beginning” and the “beginning of the end” of the other cycle. Rosh Hashanah is not only a time of concluding the year and making resolutions for the new one, but also a moment to reflect on what we want to accomplish with the six months that remain in the months cycle. Likewise, Rosh Chodesh Nissan (the first day of Nissan) is not only the start of the months cycle, but also a time to pause and reflect on the midpoint of the year.
According to the inner teachings of Torah, the two cycles of the year symbolize two different psychological processes, hinted at in their names.
The Hebrew word for “month” is chodesh, whose root means “new.” The months cycle thus symbolizes a process of renewal—shaking off the dust of the past and starting a fresh, clean page, upon which new realities can be created. Each rosh chodesh, the first day of each months, literally “head of the month,” invites us to acquire a rosh chadash, a “new head,” i.e. renew ourselves.
The Hebrew word for “year” on the other hand is shanah, whose root means “change” or “transformation.” The yearly cycle symbolizes a process of transformation—taking the existing state of affairs, with all its inherent flaws and imperfections, and introducing changes and improvements to it. Each rosh shanah, new year’s day, literally “head of the year,” we are invited to acquire a rosh shoneh, a “changed head,” i.e. transform ourselves.
Now, while renewal sounds more total and radical, transformation is really a far more profound and difficult process. It is much harder to improve something existing than to acquire something new. This is precisely why the cycle of the year includes twelve new months but only one new year! Twelve times a year we are called upon to renew ourselves, but once a year we are expected to achieve something greater—transforming our mindset until it becomes truly different.
But it gets more interesting. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, is also a Rosh Chodesh, a new month, that of Tishrei! That means that when fully understood, it is about both acquiring a new mindset and transforming our existing one. Our Sages hinted at this exact concept in their interpretation of the verse “Blow the shofar at the new moon” (Tik’u ba-chodesh shofar, Psalms 81:4): “Chodesh means renew your deeds, shofar means improve your deeds.”
These ideas add a deeper layer to what we explained regarding virginity in the soul. The processes of renewal and transformation can be seen as two expressions of virginity in the soul, within the two levels in which it exists. The renewal that is meant to occur each month corresponds to the nefesh layer, the more grounded and daily level, or the “daughter” within us, while the transformation associated with the larger-scale yearly cycle is related to the neshamah layer, our inner “mother.” Just as the maternal level carries the opposites of maturity and youth, experience and innocence, so too Rosh Hashanah includes both transformation and renewal.
Elul is the month of preparation for Rosh Hashanah. In this month, we must ascend from the level of nefesh to the that of neshamah in order to draw from it the strength to cast new light on our situation and to see how we can bring about real transformation, one that doesn’t deny our current reality but rather integrates with it and improves it.
What About the Boys?
We have elaborated so much on the feminine layers of the soul that we have neglected the two masculine layers. These layers are the counterparts of the feminine ones, accompanying and completing them, and we must treat them as such.
The partner of nefesh is ruach. The ruach layer represents the emotional layer of the soul, the domain of the heart’s attributes. The heart’s attributes are varied, but according to Chassidut, the first is the attribute of love, and the central one is the attribute of compassion. The fact that ruach is the partner of nefesh means that the loss of virginity in this layer (as well as in the physical body, which nefesh is contiguous with) must happen with much love and compassion.
The partner of neshamah is the chayah layer. Chayah represents self-nullification in the soul—the ego-less devotion to the soul’s root, i.e. God. The neshamah’s unique blend of maturity and youth is due to its constant and faithful connection to this self-nullification. The chayah and neshamah layers are always united, connected at all times to the “male and female He created them” layer above them (indeed, it would be appropriate to depict them as existing on the same plane just beneath the yechidah layer).
The ruach and chayah layers are the living spirit that animates the feminine layers and gives them their power of renewal.
Conclusion: The Lessons of Virginity
Modern culture has ridiculed virginity, both in its physical and emotional sense. It has turned it into an outdated burden that should be discarded as early as possible. The message we receive from every direction is that in our world, one must not be innocent. Rather, one should experience everything, as soon as possible.
The recognition of the layers of the soul and the spirit offers a different and deeper perspective. From the nefesh layer we learn that in order to build the foundation of our inner world, it is valuable to delay the loss of innocence. Although the time will inevitably come to lose our innocence—both physical and emotional—we must ensure that this loss occurs in harmony with our true pace of development and avoid rushing it. We must protect our innocence, preserving it until the proper time, and in the trustworthy hands of those who genuinely seek its well-being. On the other hand, this layer teaches us that it is capable of constant renewal, and even if its innocence is disrupted inappropriately, we can recover and open a new page.
From the neshamah layer we learn something even more important: that even after we lose our innocence in body and soul, there remains a higher innocence that we never lose. This innocence is not nullified by one event or another, simply because it is timeless: it is integrated with the maturity and experience we have acquired throughout life and therefore views the world from a place of serenity and elevation. This innocence is a form of wholeness, and it grants us the strength to face all the events of our lives. Through it, we can draw the strength needed to renew and improve ourselves, even after experiencing seemingly irrecoverable losses in our lives.
Elul is known as the month of teshuvah, repentance: it is the time when we are meant to sum up the year and soul-search in preparation for the new year. However, as we reach the end of the year and see how little of our resolutions we managed to fulfill, we tend to feel old and exhausted, fully disillusioned from the innocence we had a year earlier. This is why the sign of Elul is Virgo: it reminds us that on a higher level within our soul, we are still young and virginal, open to encounter familiar reality as if for the first time, to renew ourselves before it, and to transform within it.
May we all be blessed with a sweet and good year!
This essay was translated through the kind help of my Patreon supporters:
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The only exception is a leap year, where the six-month period from Tishrei to Nissan lasts seven months instead of six