The King is in the Field

In Likkutei Torah, the Alter Rebbe describes the tightening of the bond between G-d and the Jewish people in the month of Elul with the following parable: Before a king enters his city, its inhabitants go out to greet him and receive him in the field. At that time, anyone who so desires is granted permission [and can] approach him and greet him. He receives them all pleasantly and shows a smiling countenance to all....*


The sun’s rays are ravenous.

It attacks my field then hungrily aims for my soul.

I stand here, bending down, and bending down and bending down.

Down, down, down, reaching for the wheat sheaves.

Separating the good from the bad.

This is good, this is bad.

This we can turn to food.

This we must burn.

Bending down, my rough hands grab stalks.

Like a tortured robot

Sharp cries in my spine make this unbearable.

Yet, day in and day out, I try.

Searching my field.

Picking my field.

All to uphold the universe.

But every now and then, I feel like I am going to break.

And no amount of water can stop the murderous drought within me.

Today is such a day.

I must stop.

I close my eyes.

Tears and sweat, intermingled on my lips.

I straighten my back, and let the aches come to a standstill, resting on my bruised feet.

I breathe, but there is no air.

---

Suddenly, my eyes feel a shadow, and it has become cool.

I open my eyes.

The clouds are covering the sun.

Air rushes to my lungs.

Suddenly, the field is moving, rocking like the sea.

Like soldiers, the stalks of wheat are bending solidly in one direction.

The field is bowing.

I look in the direction of their focus.

And then I almost lose my breath.

I drop the sheaves in my hand, and freeze.

Is that really Him?

My heart begins to beat.

On the earth soaked with my sweat, the King is standing.

----

He is miles away. But His smile is aimed directly at me, piercing the distance between us.

Why has He come here?

I am dressed in ruins. Thorns have pricked my skin, and the blood on my garments proves my toil. Calloused feet and dirty hands are enough to keep me from His embrace.

But there He is, standing tall and shadowless in this place I have called my home.

Is He waiting for me?

It’s been so long. And now He’s here.

I want to run to Him.

The cooling weather is suddenly numb to the warmth glowing inside me.

The King is here.

I’ve been waiting so long.

I have a Heart inside me that’s been growing solid without His face.

I had almost forgotten Him.

And yet, He has come to my field.

So the King does want me.

My grateful tears gush forth, providing the field’s long awaited rain.

I decide then and there - enough with missed opportunities.

---

Like lightening are my feet.

Thousands of stalks are grazing my sides. My feet float above the earth as I speed through the sea of brown and green.

My breathing is thick, scratching at my throat. My fists are tightened.

My feet are stomping like my speeding Heartbeat.

And then, nothing is moving anymore.

---

We are face to face.

My sweaty hands dangle nervously at my sides, and I look down.

That’s when I see.

The King isn’t wearing shoes.

He has come to my place of toil, and left His royal garb at the palace.

Suddenly, I cannot tremble. I can no longer avert His eyes.

The King is in the field, and His entire presence is an invitation.

I smile back.

Oh, King.

I have a lot to tell you, a lot to ask.

He opens His arms.

In His divine embrace, I find the entire map of my soul.

For the first time in a while, it’s clear:

The King sees me, in me, through me.

And so we walk through the field, the King’s every word raising me up.

---

It is now raining, and the entire field is glowing in never-seen-before colors.

The work of my hands is soaked in divinity.

With the King at my side, a newfound strength makes some space within.

I know what I have to do.

When the King leaves, I must keep Him here forever.

In my blood, sweat, and tears.

In my dirty hands and calloused feet.

When the sun sets today, the light will still flood these grounds.

Today, by running to the King, I have plowed a new field.

*[http://www.sichosinenglish.org/books/timeless-patterns/51.htm]