I have lived a great deal of my life outside of my birthplace in the USA, finding myself in England for almost a decade, Israel for almost a decade, and now in Canada.
In every place I have asked myself this question:
What am I doing here?
It is actually three questions:
• What events in the past have brought me to this place?
• Why has Hashem led me here?
• What am I supposed to accomplish in this place?
I have asked this question in parking lots when I have looked at my watch and realized that there was only five minutes left to daven Mincha. I remember asking this question the first time I approached the Western Wall. I asked this question when I moved to Omaha. I have asked this question amidst great depression. And I have been asked this question many times by others who are searching.
I would like to answer with a story about the great Chassidic Rabbi, the Baal Shem Tov (a.k.a. the Besht) who was the founder of the Chassidic Judaism.
The Besht was known to take long mystical trips in his horse and wagon. Once the Besht and his attendant found themselves at the edge of a peaceful field in the countryside. Stepping down from the wagon they could hear the strong wind rustling the crops and the beautiful voice of man singing a melodious song.
The Chassidic master and his attendant followed the music deep into the field until they found a local peasant reaping crops with his sickle belting out the melody joyously.
“What a beautiful melody!” the Besht said joyfully greeting the peasant.
“Thank you,” replied the peasant flattered by his guests and eager to find out why they had come so deep in the fields.
They exchanged some pleasantries and then the Besht asked, “I’d love to learn your song. Would you teach it to me?”
The peasant was surprised by the request, but as there was no harm in teaching the Besht, he replied, “Why not?”
The peasant began and the Besht closed his eyes to draw the music deep within. The peasant finished and the Besht looked at his attendant grinning.
“That was good” the Besht said. But I think I missed a part. “Sing is again.”
The peasant started singing again, and now the attendant closed his eyes too, as did the peasant, and the music bound them together. The attendant began to cry, he was not sure why, but the music reminded him of days of old.
The peasant finished his song and the Besht then requested the peasant to sing it once more for good measure. When he had finished, the Besht requested to sing the melody to him to see if he had it right. Now the Besht began to sing and the attendant stifled his weeping – never had he heard such a song, he was not sure what seemed to grip him so deeply.
“Well, how did I do?” asked the Besht when he had finished.
“That was perfect” said the peasant. “Not one note missed.”
“Would you sing it again, my friend?” asked the Besht. “Just to be sure that I have it right.”
The peasant opened his mouth to sing, but could no longer remember the melody. He looked at the Besht and his attendant surprised.
“Go on,” said the Besht, imploring him to sing once more. “We loved it so much when you sang it.”
The peasant tried again, but was speechless. The Besht thanked the peasant whole heartedly and quickly departed with his attendant in tow racing to keep up with him.
“Rebbe, where are we going?” he breathlessly asked the Besht.
They reached the wagon and the Besht responded, “Home!”
“But Rebbe, what were we doing there? What happened to his song?”
The horses began to race back home, and the Besht began to explain. “That song was once sung by the Levites in the Temple in Jerusalem. When the Temple had been destroyed that song along with all the other holy sparks of the Temple were scattered across the universe. Somehow that peasant picked up the spark and was able to sing that song. Now that we have learnt the song the spark has been transferred to us. There is no longer a need for that peasant to know the song. The song has come home – and we will return it to its source.”
And so it is for me and you. We have been scattered across this globe. We find ourselves in the strangest of places and the strangest of times. But there is no interchange that is insignificant, and there is no place where we travel by accident. There are holy sparks everywhere – it is our job to retrieve them.
In essence – we are Spark Seekers.
With G-d’s help I hope to explain this point over the coming weeks quoting sources.
