When the King presents Himself, be sure to take advantage
There is a thrilling concept in Chassidut, connected to Elul (beginning this Thursday 20th August), the month of preparation before our annual days of Divine judgement during the High Holidays. The concept is “The king in the field.” (the “king” meaning G-d). All year long the king is in his palace and only the privileged can receive an audience. One month a year the king comes out into the fields, the places where people work. Anyone can approach him then, no matter what they are doing, how they are dressed or how they are feeling or thinking. All you have to do is go to meet him. And the king receives everyone with a smiling and glowing face. Most important, whoever makes the effort and breaks their routine to come see him, then later when the king returns to the palace (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) those the king met in the field will also be welcome and considered among the privileged few.
How does this King look when he is the field?
It was Brooklyn NY, August, Elul, 1975, before I came closer to Jewish observance. Just after college, a job of sorts was waiting for me as a nutritionist in a commune in Tennessee. I had already met my first teacher and mentor, Rabbi Meir Abehsera z”l (the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s “Whistler”) and was undecided about my next steps. Nothing pressing till September. There was a girl in the neighborhood, also a beginner to Jewish practice. While she was a few years younger than I, she was a few years ahead of me in her path to Judaism. I would see her occasionally at different Jewish events.
She called me one Monday and told me to meet her on Kings Highway and Ocean Parkway. She would not tell me why. When I got there, she handed me a me a pair of Tzitzit and told me to put them on. I was wearing shorts, a tee shirt and a ponytail. I simply could not argue with her. Then she said “Let’s go!” and we walked a couple of blocks to an unassuming one-family house. There was a Yiddish sign in front that I could not read. She said “You are going in.” I opened the door and was shocked to see the entire first floor literally packed with people listening to an old Rabbi with a round hat, a long beard and crackling voice like he was a four pack a day cigarette smoker (which he wasn’t). Suddenly, people were pushing this 22 year old with the pony tail (and Tzitith) to the front. (I couldn’t object because it would have been impolite to make noise when the Rabbi was speaking and everyone else was completely silent).
He was speaking in English but for the life of me I did not understand a word. When I was finally a few feet from him, he paused for a moment and looked at me. And this is what he said. “Young man, if you want to be sad, read a newspaper. If you want to be happy, go to a cemetery.” The entire room held their breath. What was the meaning of this cryptic statement? He waited for a few seconds and continued. “If you want to be sad, read a newspaper because those journalists are paid to write about bad news. And if you want to be happy, go to a cemetery because no matter what, you are better off outside, alive, then inside and dead.” He looked me in the eye, then turned back to the crowd and went on with his prepared talk.
Was it Jewish? Not so much. Was it wise? Very much. Was it the only pivotal event in my life in those days? No. But one way or the other, a few weeks later, I was beginning to study Judaism.
How does a king in the field look? Is he wearing his crown? Long robes? Is he a Rabbi with a cackling voice but warm words or a girl on the corner with a pair of Tzitzit? The King will reveal himself to each person in a way appropriate for them. But when the opportunity presents itself, be sure to take advantage.