The Secret of Selichos

Harav Yussie Zakutinsky Shlita September 13, 2025

Selichos is one of those aspects of Yiddishkeit where, through no one’s fault in particular, we may not fully understand. What is Selichos? What exactly are we trying to accomplish by saying them? Let’s try to explain a little bit about what’s happening during Selichos b’pnimius. Hopefully, with Hashem’s help, that will inspire us to approach Selichos properly.

There’s a principle in Sefer Yetzirah, and throughout pnimius haTorah, that every point in time has a corresponding place in the world. Each moment on the calendar corresponds to a location in physical space. For example: the time of Rosh Hashanah.

What is the place that corresponds to Rosh Hashanah? The Sifrei Kedoshim teach us that the place of Rosh Hashanah is the Beis HaMikdash. Rosh Hashanah begins the Yomim Nora’im. When Yaakov Avinu came to the place of the Mikdash he said, “Mah nora hamakom hazeh.” The time of Rosh Hashanah is a time of nora, awe. The Beis HaMikdash, in space, is the place of nora.

Rosh Hashanah actually equals, in gematria, Beis HaMikdash. And that’s why in the seforim, it’s explained that there is no mitzvah to be oleh regel on Rosh Hashanah. On Pesach, Shavuos, and Sukkos there is such a mitzvah, but not on Rosh Hashanah. Because wherever you are on Rosh Hashanah, you are already standing in the Beis HaMikdash! Rosh Hashanah in time is what the Mikdash is in space.

Here’s the question: The Torah says that when you go to the Mikdash, you may not arrive empty-handed: v’lo yeira’u fonai reikom. One must bring a korbon, a gift to the Ribbono Shel Olam. But on Rosh Hashanah, when we enter the Mikdash of time, what gift are we bringing? During Selichos, we’ll say: “K’dalim u’k’rashim dofaknu d’losecha” like paupers, we knock on Your door empty-handed. Aren’t we violating v’lo yeira’u fonai reikom?

If you ask the average Yid what Selichos is, they’ll say: it’s davening to Hashem to forgive our aveiros. But if that’s true, then logically we should first do teshuvah, and only afterwards ask Hashem to forgive us. Yet if you look at the order of Selichos, viduy (Ashamnu, Bagadnu) comes only at the end. So what are we actually davening for until then? On what basis are we asking Hashem for forgiveness before doing teshuvah?

Chazal explain: after the cheit ha’eigel, Hashem wrapped Himself in a tallis like a chazzan and taught Moshe Rabbeinu the order of the Yud-Gimmel Middos HaRachamim. Hashem said: whenever Klal Yisroel sins, if they perform this service, I will forgive them. This is puzzling: isn’t teshuvah required for forgiveness? How can the Yud-Gimmel Middos alone be enough?

To understand this, we need to realize: Selichos night is about laying the foundation of the Beis HaMikdash, laying the foundation of Hashem’s Malchus. Just as Dovid Hamelech laid the foundation for the Mikdash and Shlomo built on top of it, our avodah on the night of Selichos is to lay the foundation for Malchus Shomayim.

What is that foundation? The Gemara in Chagigah (11a) teaches through a mashal: a king tells his servants to build him a palace, and instructs them to build it on a garbage dump. They obey, but keep that aspect of it secret. The Gemara reveals a mystery: the Malchus of Hashem is built not on pleasant ground, but on a dump.

The Mekubalim explain: in the beginning, tohu vavohu, chaos was created first. Before there was light, before there was order, everything existed in a state of chaos. The Leshem zy”a explains that every element of creation — every leaf, every atom, every human being, every experience — was first created in a state of wildness, disorder, and explosive energy. That chaos, that ashpa, that “trash,” is the foundation of the world.

The yetzer harah embodies this chaos. Its nature is wild, uncontained energy, bursting outward. The yetzer hatov, by contrast, is calm, quiet, and ordered. But Hashem wanted us to serve Him with chiyus, with life-force, passion, and energy. Therefore, He created us first in chaos, so that we would have that explosive potential within us. The challenge is to harness it.

The Baal HaTanya zy”a gave a mashal: a person wants to climb a mountain. On his own, it’s impossible. Next to him stands a wild horse. The horse has the power to reach the peak quickly, but it has no direction. The task of the human is to ride and guide the horse, using its strength to reach the summit.

So too with us: our aveiros, our failures, our yetzer horah, all reveal our energy, our raw potential. The teshuvah process repairs the specific misdeeds, but the energy itself is not erased. It instead becomes the very foundation upon which Malchus Shomayim is built. On Rosh Hashanah, we bring Hashem our yetzer horah, our chaos, our garbage dump from the past year. That is our gift.

The avodah of Selichos is to take all of that unleashed energy and offer it to Hashem, to channel it into avodas Hashem. The greater the chaos, the greater the mistakes, the more energy we have to bring. The bigger the garbage dump, the grander the palace that can be built upon it.

This, the Leshem explains, is also why Moshiach has not yet come. No generation has fully embraced tohu vavohu, the chaos within us. The first generation that does so, the first dor that accepts the wild energy, not as shameful but simply as raw potential to be harnessed, will be the one to see Moshiach.

Reb Shmuel Munkes once came to the Baal Hatanya’s house in the middle of the night and insisted on becoming a chossid. The Baal HaTanya tried to push him away, and when Reb Shmuel didn’t budge, the Rebbe threatened to have him thrown out by a goy. Reb Shmuel responded: “Rebbe, my goy is stronger than your goy.” At that point, the Baal HaTanya relented and Reb Shmuel grew close to him, eventually becoming a devoted talmid. What Reb Shmuel was saying was my internal goy, my wildness, is so very powerful — my goy is stronger — and that’s precisely why I need you as my Rebbe.

This is the secret: the light of a Tzadik is built not on pure light alone, but from darkness transformed.

So as we approach Selichos tonight, we may lack zechuyos, we may feel empty-handed, but we have our chaos, our raw energy, our yetzer horah. That itself is our entrance ticket. May we be zocheh to channel that energy into malchus shomayim, and to be the generation that sees the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash and the coming of Moshiach.

This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 52.

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