Written August 16, 2021
The King is in the Field, this is the great philosophy of
Elul. Hashem is right here, ready and waiting to hear our petitions. But how do I petition Hashem when I feel as
if I am trapped in a hole, in a hole that is like one of those traps you see in
the movies where everything looks smooth and safe and then suddenly the floor
beneath you gives out. I am caught in this pit, and I am trying to scream to
the King, the beautiful king standing in the field, but the depths of the
darkness makes it feel purposeless.
How did I get here? It’s the question of the hour, the week,
the month…I had a beautiful garden, but I can only surmise that I didn’t take care of it
properly. The land rebelled against me, but not before my beautiful harvest
that I will always keep close to me. I think of my harvest, of my five
wonderous seedlings, and I am renewed in my vigor to call out once again, to
beg the King to hear me.
But the walls of the pit are black stones, seemingly rounded
and gentle but full of sharp, hurtful edges. It looks benign, even beautiful,
but the rocks cut and the blackness absorbs my sobs. I know that there is a
path up. I know I can make it with time and effort. But can I make it this year?
Can I get out of this pit, this pit that took me so much by surprise in my very
own garden, before the King leaves the field?
I reach out and grab upward. I try to shout the words I want
to say, but they echo hollowly back at me. Can He hear me? Why does everything
I say sound so garbled and unclear? What is it that I really want?
