Elul, Day 12 - י"ב באלול
Dear Elul Writers,
A Hasidic tale:
There was once a child, raised in comfort and with care, by a great and powerful ruler. Once, when the child and the ruler were quarreling, the child was punished and sent away from the palace. The child suffered in the harshness of the world, experiencing cold and hunger, and waiting anxiously to be recalled. After years, the child lost hope of gaining a pardon and settled into the bleakness of their new reality. Then, one day, the ruler sends out a royal messenger with the full power to grant the child’s every wish and every desire. The emissary finds the child and delivers the message, “Your wish is my command. What is your request?” But, the child asks only for a piece of bread and a warm coat. The child had forgotten the abundance and the beauty of the palace--could no longer recall the feeling of proximity to love and adoration.
This story is attributed to R’ Simcha Bunim of Peshischa. If his name sounds familiar (it is a very common name), then you are likely familiar with the story of the notes he kept in each pocket. On one slip of paper it read “I am but dust and ash.” On the other slip were the words “For my sake the world was created.” Carrying these two truths with him, this Hasidic master was a walking embodiment of the paradox of our existence.
The above story of the child also speaks to a universal human experience. When we have the opportunity to grow or to change, it is difficult to think beyond the needs that are right before us. If we are hungry, we want food. If we are lonely, we want a friend. If we are grieving, we want comfort. The sadness embedded in the parable is the idea that each of us is the child, unable to remember just how precious we are. We have been out of the palace for so long that our imagination has atrophied. We no longer know what to ask for.
Prompt
The twelfth of Elul is the yahrtzeit of R’ Simcha Bunim. In his honor, I want to push us to think beyond our most immediate needs. I am imagining a spiritual take on “We want bread, and roses, too.” As we imagine ourselves in the year to come, how can we not just focus on the small changes? Given the chance to recreate ourselves, can we be utterly bold? Can we stretch our memory back far enough to remember our worth, our holiness, our continued connection to Kadosh Baruch Hu? If an emissary arrived at your door, what is it that you might request?
See you all on Saturday night!
Wishing you a good Shabbos,
Jordan