‘Two Cups, Two Books, One L’Chaim With G-d’

Dear Friends,

As we enter the month of Elul and prepare for the High Holidays, I’d like to share a story that carries a profound lesson about teshuvah—return, reconciliation, and new beginnings.

It is told of a certain Chassidic Rebbe who, on the eve of Yom Kippur, walked through a small town to see how the Jews were preparing. Peeking into one home, he saw a man sitting at a table with a bottle of vodka and two glasses.

The man poured a glass, drank, then poured another, drank again, and continued until the bottle was empty. Then, he rose and danced around the table.

That night in synagogue, the Rebbe bypassed his honored seat and sought out this man. Taking him by the hand, he asked: “I saw you earlier, drinking glass after glass. What was the meaning of this?”

The man answered with deep honesty: He had lost his cow—his livelihood. Then his wife fell ill, and despite his prayers, she too passed away. Broken and bitter, he swore off G-d, abandoning tefillin and synagogue. But on Yom Kippur eve, he thought: How can I not go to shul on this night? Yet, I swore I had no connection with G-d.

Then he remembered a quarrel with a neighbor. His neighbor once entered with a bottle, poured two glasses, and said, “Enough. Let’s drink L’Chaim and make peace.” They drank, danced, and reconciled.

“So,” the man continued, “I quarreled with G-d. Tonight I put out two glasses, poured one for Him and one for me. If He didn’t drink, I drank in His place. Glass after glass until the bottle was gone. Then I danced. I made peace with G-d.”

The Rebbe was deeply moved. That is teshuvah—not despair, not endless review of mistakes, but reconciling with G-d and starting fresh.

Another story echoes this truth: On Erev Yom Kippur, a tavern owner opened two notebooks—one of wrongs he owed G-d, another of hardships life had handed him. In the end, he said: “You forgive me, I forgive You. Let’s start anew.” Then he burned the books.

And so it is with us. Teshuvah means turning the page. Not only with G-d, but with each other. Many of us carry old hurts, grudges, or anger for years. Real peace does not come from rehashing the past. It comes from saying simply: “Let’s start over.”

There is also something striking about the image of two cups—as if they were books of blessing placed side by side. Just as books contain wisdom and promise, these two “cups of books” remind us that every L’Chaim is not just a drink, but an invitation to open a new chapter with G-d, with others, and with ourselves.

This Elul, may we all lift a glass of “L’Chaim” with G-d and with each other. May we forgive, reconcile, and open a brand-new page for the year ahead.

Wishing you a sweet and blessed New Year, inscribed and sealed for life, peace, and joy.

Rabbi Anchelle Perl