In a typical year, as Rosh Hashanah approaches, we would be concluding the month of Elul, a time characterized by the concept of Hamelech Basadeh or “The King is in the Field.”
But this year has been far from typical.
The metaphor of the “King in the Field” was introduced by the Alter Rebbe—Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad Hasidism, in his work Likkutei Torah. The Alter Rebbe suggests that during Elul, God’s presence is more accessible, like a king who leaves his palace to meet his subjects in their everyday environments or “fields.” (Likkutei Torah, Parshat Re’eh 32:1).
There he poses a question: If Elul is a sacred month of preparation for the Days of Awe, dedicated to Divine closeness, why isn’t the whole month observed as a Yom Tov? Why do we continue our daily routines instead of ceasing all creative and professional activity, as we do on Shabbat and the festivals, in order to focus our minds and our souls on the sanctity that permeates the month? If Elul is a time for spiritual refocusing, why not observe a month-long holiday or Shabbat experience?
The Alter Rebbe’s answer illuminates the unique nature of Elul. Elul offers us an opportunity to encounter God in the midst of our everyday lives, he explains. God meets us in “the field”—our workplaces, our homes, our daily tasks, witnessing our efforts at self-improvement within the context of our real lives, inviting us to take steps towards holiness while still engaged in the mundane.
This Elul, the metaphorical “field” in which God usually would find us has been dramatically altered, as it has been one of the most challenging years that many of us have ever faced. This year, instead of our usual routines, we found ourselves in literal fields, the groves and orchards of our land, picking and pruning where farmers were not available.
We’ve been in the “field” of military bases and the frontlines of war, whether in uniform ourselves or in support of those who are. We’ve been in hotels and schools and community centers, helping and holding displaced families as they face uncertainty and instability. And too many times, we’ve been in the worst of fields, returning to the cemeteries for one funeral after another.
This year has been busier, more taxing, more overwhelming than any we can remember. Our familiar responsibilities have been set aside; God has found us laboring in these new “fields,” doing all that we can to support one another through crisis and uncertainty.
As Rosh Hashanah approaches, we might ask: How ever can we approach these Days of Awe, when every day of this year has felt so awful? Why must the king return to the palace when we so desperately need his presence in the fields with our soldiers, our hostages, our displaced families and our broken people?
This Elul, let’s pray that God sees the extraordinary efforts we’ve made in our fields this year. Perhaps He will then agree, just this year, not to retreat to the king’s palace, but continue to plant His Divine throne in these new fields and stay with us here. Or perhaps God will return to the heavenly abode but will transform it, from what is perceived by so many of us this year, to be an impenetrable palace to an inviting homestead where the God of mercy welcomes us all.
May our efforts and sacrifices in the various fields this year merit us a softer loving day of judgment. And may we all find our way home with God—to a place of safety, calm, comfort and Divine closeness—in the New Year to come.
