In ancient times, it was common for leaders to stroll, unannounced, among the people.
The Torah describes kings like Jehoshaphat and Melchizadek spontaneously appearing in the fields and interacting with their subjects. Napoleon did so regularly.
For many leaders, these walks provided an unscripted opportunity to mingle with their subjects—to truly understand their joys, challenges and the nature of their toil.
Then, as is true today, heads of state—kings, queens, prime ministers and presidents—became inaccessible. They grew aloof—detached from everyday life.
In 1992, U.S. President George Bush, during a debate with Bill Clinton and Ross Perot, was forced to admit he did not know the price of a gallon of milk.
Can this be the same for God?”
Our Sages wondered—especially as the High Holidays approached—”How can God truly understand from heaven what is truly in our hearts without walking amongst us?”
Enter the Jewish month of Elul, the last before the New Year.
The High Holidays provide an opportunity for spiritual renewal. From Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, we are encouraged to wipe our slates clean—to let go of grudges and bad habits.
We embrace the sweetness of our lives, as we chart a course for a better future.
But in many ways, Rosh Hashanah can be a remote and often rushed process. We arrive at synagogue—and within a two or three-hour window—we hope to be inspired by prayers, words and melodies.
We renew old acquaintances, and somehow during that period, we attempt to engage in reflection and introspection.
Where is God through all of this?
Classic Jewish theology describes God sitting in judgement on a heavenly throne giving us 10 days to improve—”or else.”
That is a lot of pressure to place on ourselves. But before that comes the month of Elul, where it is said, “The King is in the field.”
I once asked one of my rabbinical teachers, what improvements he planned to make during the High Holidays.
And he replied. “None, it’s all been done.”
He continued to tell me that during the quiet month of Elul during long walks, vacation and enhanced family time, he began contemplating how he could live a better life.
“I thought about the things, which I think are important, but are not.
“I thought about while I’m busy doing things for others, whether I am spiritually growing myself.
“I wondered whether I am giving the same unconditional love and undivided attention to my own family that I give to others.”
I’ve always remembered his words.
Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812) once described the months of Elul with this metaphor:
“The king’s usual place is in the capital city, in the royal palace. Anyone wishing to approach the king must go through the appropriate channels in the palace bureaucracy and gain the approval of a succession of secretaries and ministers.
“However, there are times when the king comes out to the fields outside the city.
“The peasant behind his plow has access to the king in a manner unavailable to the highest ranking minister in the royal court when the king is in the palace.”
Put in more modern terms: If we are to meet God on Rosh Hashanah, it is important that God understands the context of our prayers.
What are our joys and challenges? What is the nature of our toil? How can God truly help write ourselves into the book of life? Therefore, according to the Chasidic imagination, God walks with us in the fields.
The Hebrew verb for prayer, L’hitpallel, is reflexive. Therefore, it is important we understand the true nature of our prayers before we can expect them to be answered.
Perhaps the point of this is: If we are happy with our lives—if we feel we are patient enough, giving enough, selfless enough, forgiving enough—there is nothing we need to do.
But if we believe that within our daily grind, our perpetual pursuit of pleasure, we are sorely lacking in meaning, then, perhaps, now is the time to begin thinking about the next year.
The Chassidic master, Rabbi Nachman of Breslev (1172-1810), wrote the following prayer: “God, please let me know how to transform the disadvantages and imperfections of my life into advantages and opportunities, and a gate through which I can pass to become closer to You.”
In the month of Elul, God leaves the capital.
It is a time for us to gently begin thinking about the things we wish to change. It means rather than entering into the Rosh Hashanah throne room, we walk in advance, relaxed with God in the fields.
Jewish tradition tells us that while the High Holidays are important, we can get more done during the month of Elul.
It’s a time to remind ourselves, that God does not reside in heaven—rather God lives among us.
More simply stated during the month of Elul, without the fanfare or rush of the High Holidays, God is with us more than ever.
God is with us at home, at work, with our families, and in our interactions with others.
God is in the fields.
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman