כִּי הֶהָרִים יָמוּשׁוּ וְהַגְּבָעוֹת תִּמּוֹטֶנָה, וְחַסְדִּי מֵאִתֵּךְ לֹא יָמוּשׁ; וּבְרִית שְׁלוֹמִי לֹא תָמוּט, אָמַר מְרַחֲמֵךְ ה׳
(Yeshayahu 54:10)
What do we hold on to when everything that once gave us strength begins to slip away? This quiet but pressing question lies beneath the powerful words of comfort spoken by Yeshayahu HaNavi. The verse describes a world where the mountains move and the hills falter — metaphors, say Chazal, for the collapse of even the most enduring spiritual legacies: the zechut of the Avot and Imahot. In the Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin 10), our sages teach that when the merit of the forefathers and foremothers has been exhausted, Hashem Himself instructs His people: "My children, if you see that the merit of the Avot and Imahot has collapsed, go and cling to chesed — for that is what endures." "The mountains may move" — this is the merit of the Avot. "And the hills may falter" — this is the merit of the Imahot. But from that point forward, Hashem promises, "My kindness shall not depart from you," says the Merciful One.
This verse is consoling because it addresses one of our deepest fears — that perhaps we are no longer worthy; that perhaps the spiritual giants of our past have left behind more than we can carry. Perhaps their merit has sustained us this far, but we do not have the strength or the stature to take the next steps. Yeshayahu reassures us that even if that is true — even if the spiritual mountains and hills have shifted — Hashem's kindness has not. It is not limited to those who came before us. It is accessible in our time, in our generation, and in our daily lives.
And how do we access that kindness? By walking in its ways. When we engage in acts of chesed — when we give without expecting in return, when we visit the sick, comfort the bereaved, support those in need, or simply extend ourselves to bring peace — we draw Hashem's chesed down upon ourselves. Chesed is not just the response to kindness; it is the trigger for it. It activates Hashem's mercy and builds a relationship with Him that is not dependent on what we've inherited but on what we choose to create.
As we enter the month of Elul — a time of teshuva, reflection, and renewal — we are invited not only to repair our relationship with Hashem but to deepen our relationships with one another. Every act of kindness we do during Elul becomes part of our spiritual return. Chesed is not a side effort; it is part of the work of coming closer to God. In giving to others, we mirror the way Hashem gives to us — and in that mirror, we find our way back.
Even when we feel spiritually depleted, even when we sense that our generation cannot measure up to those that came before, this verse comes as a whisper of hope and strength: kindness remains. When we embody Hashem's attribute of chesed, we are never cut off. We become the next link in the chain. We become worthy not because of where we come from, but because of how we give, care, and love.
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