The Parable

On the Shabbat just before the Jewish month of Elul 57571 (August 22, 1797), Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liady told a parable of a king in the field—what we would call today “the countryside”:

Before he arrived at a city, the people of the city came out to greet him. He received them out there in the fields, so that anyone who wished was permitted to greet the king. And he received all of them with a friendly face, and displayed to them his genuine delight.

Then, as he continued to the city, the people followed after him.

Once he arrived at his royal palace, however, only those with special permission could enter to see him, and even then, only the most important citizens and privileged individuals.2

For the historical context of this parable see: The Czar in the Field

What Does It Mean?

Rabbi Schneur Zalman told this parable to explain something that would otherwise seem impossible. Here’s the background:

Elul is a month on the Jewish calendar—the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. The Kabbalists3 speak of a divine signal that sounds throughout the month of Elul. The signal is so intense that it reaches even the most distant souls, awakens them, and enables them to get back on track.

That awakening is meant to prepare you for your grand encounter with your Creator on the approaching “Days of Awe”—Rosh Hashana through Yom Kippur. If you listen to your soul in Elul, you’ll be in the right space to handle the awe of the Days of Awe. If you don’t, you might miss it altogether.

And yet, this Elul-signal is not a top-down sort of awakening—the sort that rings so loud, it resets your psyche from head to toe. It’s a quiet, inner voice.

The Quiet Alarm Clock

That’s crucial. If your Creator wanted, He could switch you into super-inspired Rosh Hashanah mode on a whim. In fact, He did that once. He took the entire Jewish people out of slavery in Egypt and forty days later blew their souls out of their bodies with the greatest, most inspiring revelation that ever occurred—at Mount Sinai.

The results were not pretty. Forty days later, they were dancing around a golden calf.

That’s the way humans work: If it’s going to penetrate deep inside and stay planted there, it has to come from your own labor—and on your own initiative. As they say, if you’re only up and about because your alarm clock wouldn’t let you stay in bed, you’re essentially sleep-walking.

This divine alarm clock, on the other hand, is so subtle, it feels like your own heart speaking. Your soul simply senses one day that it’s time to wake up, that the path lies before you, and your beloved G‑d awaits you. It has no clue where this notion is coming from.

And yet, this alarm rings loud enough to wake up the most distant souls, those in the deepest. most oblivious slumber. That is the paradox: How can a signal be both loud and subtle at once?

The parable of the king in the field answers that question. The king makes no proclamations. He doesn’t sit in his palace and decree that every subject of his kingdom must appear before him. He simply makes himself available in a place that’s accessible to all. He doesn’t surround himself with his royal guards, and neither does he wear his crown or royal robes. He dresses for the road, greets everyone with a friendly face, and displays to them his genuine delight.

The people come out to see him—not for the pageant and ceremony. There isn’t any. And not because they’ve been commanded to come. They haven’t. They come for one reason alone: This is their king.

That’s the subtle voice we all hear this time of year: There’s something that intimately relates to me and it’s happening now. I need to be there.

Unpacking the Parable

So how do I find this king? Where is this field? Do I need to get out of the city, or could just some parking lot do?

You find the king inside yourself. You are the field.

The king is inside you because you have a divine soul, and at the very core-essence of that divine soul is a spark of G‑d Himself. That’s what’s resonating at this time of year, and that’s what you need to get in touch with.

You’re a field because you are capable of growing. You can plow the soil of your heart, plant there seeds of tzedakah and good deeds, irrigate them with Torah study and contemplation of Torah wisdom, and you will grow. In one month, or less, you could feel yourself becoming a new person.

But doesn’t the parable say I’m coming from the city?

Yes, because in essence, that’s where you belong—in the city of the king, in His presence all the time.

Only that, if you’re like the rest of us, when you reflect on your situation, you realize you’re out in the desert. Not the city, not the gardens and fields of the countryside. The desolate, barren, and brutal desert where nothing ever grows and no human is meant to live.

And now this inspiration inside you, this quiet voice in your heart, is suddenly saying, “I don’t think I really belong here. Maybe I should get to the garden and do some growing.”

That’s your meeting with the King. If you carry it through, you’ll accompany Him back to the city. And then, when it comes to the Days of Awe, you will be among the special, privileged people who can enter the palace and truly, deeply, experience that awe.4

The Rug-Puller Question

Now everything in the parable fits. Until it doesn’t. Because there are some questions to ask:5

If the king is truly interested in people coming on their own volition, why is he smiling so much? Doesn’t he realize that when the news of that big, friendly smile gets out, people will feel absolutely compelled to drop everything and come?

And he doesn’t just show a smile—he shows them how delighted he is with them! Who could resist coming to a king who is so delighted to see you?

And, once we’re asking, let’s get down to the basic premise of all this: Forget the smiles and delight—why’s the king traveling from town to town? Obviously to see the people. The people know that, right? And they’re not going to feel compelled to jump in their wagons and come?

These questions would seem to pull the rug out from under the entire message of this parable. But if we shine some light, we’ll see they are actually keys to unlock its most profound secrets.

The King Wants You

Let’s start here: Who is the King most interested in seeing? Those who have their lives in order? Those who are busy plowing their fields and harvesting their crops? Or those lost souls out in the barren wilderness?

A typical mortal king is most interested in meeting those most loyal to him. But to the Real and Ultimate King, every soul He has put out there is the entire world. Not one can be allowed to get lost. Every soul must be brought back home.

It’s those endangered souls that concern him most. And the only way to get those souls back is with a smile.

Because, imagine if news got around that the king was drilling his subjects and dressing them down with insults? Who would want to come? Certainly not those troubled souls he’s most interested in seeing.

So he allows himself to smile to every single one and show, unmistakably, that he is truly happy they came to see him. Now, when the guy hiding behind a bush in the backwoods hears this, he won’t be so ashamed to come.

Okay, that explains the friendly reception. But showing how delighted he is with them? Isn’t that overdoing it? Obviously, there’s got to be more behind this detail of the story.

So here, we have to explain something very profound:

The King’s Delight

This King, the One Who Breathes Life Into All Things, loves every soul He ever made. He loves them and enjoys them infinitely more than any parent or grandparent ever loved and enjoyed their most precious child. And He loves and enjoys them on two planes:

He loves what they do. He enjoys it when they care for one another, when they come together to do His mitzvahs and other wonderful things, when they join minds and hearts to study His wisdom in His Torah and ponder this amazing universe He has made. He loves when they come to speak with Him and they share with Him the most intimate concerns of their hearts.

And then, in yet a more essential way, He loves and enjoys each soul just because this soul is His child. It is a child conceived and born out of His love and delight. It is the centerpiece of all He has created, because it is Him within His creation.

These are the two reactions of the king in the field: He receives the people with a friendly face—because they came, and that makes him happy. And he shows he is delighted with them—as to say, “I just want to show you how delighted I am in you, just for who you are.”

Here’s an example from ordinary life: Let’s say you’re a parent talking with your child about something interesting, and the child makes an ingenious remark. Of course, you smile and tell your child, “Brilliant! I love it!” But then, you go way beyond. You pick the kid up and hug the child a big, long hug, and laugh a big, long laugh.

As to say, “I always want to give you a big hug. Thank you for giving me an excuse.”

That’s the kind of delight that the Ultimate King reveals to every soul, those who come, and those who do not come. Because, after all, who is this display of delight meant for?

It is meant most of all, the Rebbe once said, for the soul that never came. The soul lost in the desert, who has heard that Rosh Hashanah is coming, that the King would enjoy seeing her before it arrives—and yet, she still can’t get herself to come. She is the soul held captive by the wild beasts of the forest. And by the beast-man of her own self.

So the King sends a message. He lets this soul know, “I understand if you don’t come. I know it is hard for you. I want you to know that my love for you does not change. I delight in you just the same.”

That is the message the Rebbe asked us to bring to every soul. If we deliver it in all earnestness, who could not resist? Who would not walk the most rugged road to see their beloved Father, the King?