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The story of Jonah describes what happens when we choose to follow the wrong path. This choice can be made out of fear, out of ignorance, out of guilt, out of ego, out of arrogance (all the same actually - fear of self, fear of God). it is not the path of one's true destiny. This is a continuation of the theme established at Rosh Hashanah: "Aiyeka" "where are you" cries God as God wonders through the Garden wandering what happened to the beloved Creation created in the Image. Of course this was not a physical positional information question! It was an existential one.
Where are you in your life, in your existence? Are you treading the unique path that is yours and yours alone? Or have you gone astray, trying to tread the path of someone else? Shuvu, Shuvu Return to your Path child, Return to you Path. Hear the still small voice whispering to you within the blast of the Shofar "Come home! You're so far away from yourself. Come home! you are so far from Me." And this is Tshuva - the turning, the choosing, the answer. So Jonah chooses not to hear but to run away. The result - chaos. Not only is his life in mortal danger but because of him he has created a storm in the lives of all those around him. And he, Jonah, has gone unconscious, asleep, in the middle of it all. Typical! He must now die. There is no other way out. The willingness to die into the sea of nothingness, into the unknown, into the very heart of the storm opens up the possibility of rebirth. But not as an expectation.
The willingness to be thrown must be unconditional. And he allows himself, more, he demands that he be hurled into the raging hands of death. And then silence. Back in the solitude of the womb. But this time it's a stinking womb. Again a choice: remain in the slime and mire
or be rebirthed. This time the choice necessitates prayer. And through the Boundless Grace of the Almighty a second, third, fourth ... chance is bestowed. Get it right this time. Please.
During the confessional prayers it is suggested to hit, strike, beat or pound the chest. Please don't. If you're into self-flagellation just give me a call and I'll lend you my whip. Let the instruction be: tap the heart gently. Do not hurt yourself anymore. You've hurt yourself enough already. No more. Tap the heart and ask for it to open. "Open heart. Open to this moment. Don't stay closed. It's too painful to be locked out of ones own heart. Open now to the possibility of foregiveness, of being purified, of being held in God's arms in love."
The King's Messenger - Story for our Season
Once upon time there was a wise King. His Kingdom was large and covered forests and deserts, seas and lakes. Now it turned out that on the far edge of his Kingdom a war was being raged. The general in charge of the war had sent an urgent letter to the King for help in order to win the battle. The King, being a wise King, knew exactly what had to be done to win the war. So he called a meeting of all his counsellors, lords and ladies, and asked for a volunteer to travel the length of the Kingdom to deliver the instructions to the general. No one offered his or her services. No one wanted to travel the dangerous roads across the Kingdom to the front line. The King looked around disappointedly at his cowardly but loyal subjects. Then a low ranking servant raised his hand and humbly announced that he was willing to go. The King was overwhelmed with delight. He hugged the servant and told him how dear he was to Him, how special and precious he was, and how he will be rewarded for his efforts. The servant was somewhat abashed by this show of affection but understood the desperation of the King.
The King began relaying to him the message that he would carry to the general. It was a complicated message, much of which the servant had trouble understanding. After a while the King realized that this was perhaps not the best way to impart such a crucial message. What if the messenger forgot parts of it, or confused this with that? The message must remain intact otherwise the battle will be lost. So the King began to write the message down. And as He wrote He explained the connection between the oral message and the written message so as to increase the probability of the message getting through. But then the King began to worry about the possibility of the scroll getting lost, damaged, or copied with errors. What would happen then? All would be lost. The King then had an idea. He would encode the message into a practice, a discipline that the messenger would embody. Thus the messenger himself would become a living message. So He started teaching the messenger the form that contained the hidden message. From the moment the messenger awoke to the moment the messenger slept he would be involved with the practice. In the way that he dressed, in the way that he ate, in the way that he spoke, in the way that he related to others. In fact every aspect of his life was touched by the discipline passed to him by the King. He learnt diligently with all his heart, with all his spirit, and with all his strength. He was determined not to fail the trust that the King had endowed in him.
When the King was sure that the messenger was ready He blessed him and reminded him how important was the task, how critical it was for him to succeed and reach the general with the message intact, and finally how precious he was in the eyes of the King.
The messenger left the presence of the King and set out on his arduous journey. He travelled through jungles and deserts, crossed seas and mountains. And as he went he practised his discipline, quoted the King's words, and studied the scroll. From the moment he awoke to the moment he fell asleep he was occupied with the practice. Whenever he felt a piece of it begin to slip from his memory he would buttress it up, protect it, reinforce it. He did this diligently as he fought off the dangers that faced him on the way. And whenever his strength faltered or he seemed to have lost his way, he would recall the voice of his King, of His encouragement, and of His faith in His humble servant who had now become His Royal messenger.
Finally after endless time and endless life threatening dangers the messenger arrived at the edge of the Kingdom. He was met by the King's general, who had been eagerly awaiting the instructions that would finally put an end to the war.
"So," said the general, "what is the King's message?" The messenger looked at him in a puzzle sort of way. "What message?" he asked, "I don't remember the King giving me a message for you." Stunned, the general exclaimed, "Good God man, what did the King tell you?" "We ," said the messenger, "The king told me many, many things and I have been observing them diligently, with all my heart, with all my soul and with all my might. He gave me a scroll to help me remember what to do and words to help me understand what to do. And whenever I felt that I might be forgetting something I built fences around it to strengthen it. But I honestly can't recall that the King gave me a message for you."
The general realized that the messenger had forgotten that he was a living message, that his practice and teachings were the message encoded. He had been travelling the road so long that his practice had become an end in itself.
And so began the process of deciphering, unpacking, and restoring the encoded message that the messenger had been carrying with him for so long in the very way that he lived his life.
And that's the end of the story.
Except :
If the King was a truly wise King he would not have sent out just one messenger because, my dear friends, we almost didn't make it. Maybe the others didn't make it but fell by the way. Or maybe others did make it through and maybe we must all share our message to discover whether we have forgotten parts of it, or maybe it has become distorted and we need each other to reconstruct it. Or maybe each of our messages is actually incomplete without the others. Maybe?
Michael Kagan
Sept 1999
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