One Kol Nidrei night, after everyone had left the little Synagogue in his small Polish town, the peasant tarried. He recited Psalms and poured out his soul unto G-d. Then he approached the Holy Ark and cried out: “Dear G-d, if only I could have but a few more acres to till, how happy and contented I would be!”
The local duke, who owned practically all the land in the area, happened to pass the Synagogue that very evening. Noticing the light, he curiously opened the door to see what was happening in the synagogue at that late hour. He entered just as the Jew was offering his moving plea.
The duke approached the praying Jew: “Chaim, I overheard your petition and am deeply moved. Now, I am willing to make you a generous offer: The day after your fast, you are to present yourself early in the morning at the gate of my palace. At dawn you will begin to walk through my fields and orchards. All the land that you will cover until sunset will be yours. But you must return to my palace by sunset, should you fail you will get nothing.”
The Weekly Sedra – Miketz – Life is to Precious to Waste
A hard working Jewish peasant, who eked out a meager livelihood farming, loved his small parcel of land and yearned for more.
One Kol Nidrei night, after everyone had left the little Synagogue in his small Polish town, the peasant tarried. He recited Psalms and poured out his soul unto G-d. Then he approached the Holy Ark and cried out: “Dear G-d, if only I could have but a few more acres to till, how happy and contented I would be!”
The local duke, who owned practically all the land in the area, happened to pass the Synagogue that very evening. Noticing the light, he curiously opened the door to see what was happening in the synagogue at that late hour. He entered just as the Jew was offering his moving plea.
The duke approached the praying Jew: “Chaim, I overheard your petition and am deeply moved. Now, I am willing to make you a generous offer: The day after your fast, you are to present yourself early in the morning at the gate of my palace. At dawn you will begin to walk through my fields and orchards. All the land that you will cover until sunset will be yours. But you must return to my palace by sunset, should you fail you will get nothing.”
Hearing these words the peasant kissed the nobleman’s hands in gratitude and rushed off to share the good news with his family.
The day after Yom Kippur, well before dawn, Chaim was on his way to the appointed meeting place, followed by his wife and children. At the duke’s signal he began to walk. Soon he increased his pace; there was so much lush and fertile land to be acquired.
“Chaim, don’t run so fast! Take it easy – your heart,” implored his wife, who could hardly keep up with him.
“Can’t you see that every moment means another acre of land for us? Tomorrow we will be rich. Tomorrow I shall have plenty of time to slowdown. But now I must hurry on. Take the kids and go home.”
As he continued running, he passed an old neighbor. The man beckoned to him: “Chaim, I know you to be a warmhearted person. Please help me with a loan for a short time, you will save a man from ruin.”
Chaim, who had a big heart, would’ve loved to help this guy, but couldn’t bother with him, time was just too precious. So he rushed by, yelling: “Sorry, I can’t stop now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Tomorrow when I’m rich,” he told himself, “I’ll set the man up in business, I’ll make him secure for the rest of his life.”
Circling towards the west, the sun was setting as Chaim approached the little Synagogue where only the other night his prayer was miraculously answered. It was time for Mincha and someone stood at the door beckoning: “Please come in Chaim, we need a Minyan. You can help a Yahrzeit say Kaddish. It will take only a few minutes:”
But Chaim, out of breath by now, motioned with his hands that he could not stop. He told himself, “It’s ok, tomorrow I’ll be rich; I’ll rebuild the whole shul. . . I’ll erect a beautiful edifice, it’ll more than compensate for today’s rudeness.” Now however, I must keep going, there are yet a few acres to cover.“
Picture the following scene: The sun is sinking rapidly and Chaim is heading for the starting point. His legs feel as heavy as lead, his mouth as dry as dust and his heart no longer beating but pounding like a drum. He knows that for his own good he should stop, but he can’t. He is determined to ”succeed“ – to acquire all the land possible. So he runs faster and faster.
As the last rays of the setting sun touches the treetops, Chaim plunges toward the starting point and falls to the ground – dead.
The duke appears with a wry smile on his lips and calls to his son: ”Ivan, take a hoe and go to the Jewish cemetery, dig a grave exactly six feet long and three feet wide and see to it that Chaim is put to rest. That’s all the land the fool will ever use!“
If it seems like you’ve met this guy Chaim before, it’s because you probably have. The world is actually replete with his likes. Truth be told, most of us possess a touch of Chaim within ourselves.
How often do we respond to our wives appeal for some more time together with frustration: ”For whom do I work so hard, if not for you and the kids? I promise that in a few years I’ll be established and then we’ll live!“ The promise is seldom realized.
When our children implore: ”Daddy, help me with my homework“ or ”read me a story,“ how many times do we turn them down: ”Daddy is too busy right now. Soon Daddy will be able to take it easy and give you all the time in the world.“ Somehow, the ”soon“ never seems to arrive.
When a needy person asks for assistance, how often do we apologize: ”This is not a good time, in a little while when I will make my fortune I will help. Just wait a little longer.“ But the wait has yet to end.
Our Rabbi preaches about the importance of setting aside time to nourish our soul through the study of Torah and we know he’s correct, yet we tell ourselves ”Yes, yes, it’s just a matter of finding the right moment. Things will soon quiet down and I will have the proper peace of mind.“ Yet the ”Right moment“ – the proper peace of mind is never found.
We find ourselves so caught-up in the rat race of life, we’re just unable to get out. Our lives pass quickly, we move from our forties into our fifties and sixties. Suddenly the sun begins to set. The time for Mincha is sneaking up on us.
We know that we ought to stop and enter the Synagogue; we realize that it is time to execute our higher purpose and mission in life, for ”If not now then when?“ But we seem to lack the ability to break the cycle. We procrastinate and postpone for tomorrow. But ”tomorrow“ is such an elusive occurrence. It seldom arrives.
Our Parsha (Mikietz) opens with the words: ”And it came to pass at the end of two years of days and Pharaoh was dreaming. . .“ In addition to the literal interpretation of the verse – which refers to the actual end of the two extra years that Yosef spent in prison after he correctly interpreted the dreams of the Chamberlain of the Cupbearers and the Chamberlain of Bakers, at which time Pharaoh had an actual dream – there is as always, a homiletic interpretation as well.
The masters of the Agaddic dimension of Torah suggest that within these words lie couched a brilliant allusion; the notion that at the ”End,“ as life runs by and the ”Years“ are seen as mere ”Days,“ because the time has past so quickly, Pharaoh was ”Dreaming.“ We realize that the Pharaoh within us – the wily king of deception of within that had us preoccupied most of our life pursuing glorious material accomplishments – was all but dreaming.
In other words, at the end of our years and days in this world we come to recognize that all our grandiose pursuits of material ”Accomplishments“ and ”Success,“ were nothing but vanity. As the well known adage goes, ”No one on their deathbed laments not having spent more time in the office.“ But to realize this at the end of life is too late. How blessed are those who learn from Pharaoh’s blunder and apprehend the emptiness of material pursuit before it is too late.
Let us pray for the gift of ”Seichel” – good sense – to be cognizant of spiritual truth and blessing earlier than later in life, and to enjoy them in the fullest measure.
