All day, the Professor, the
Billionaire, the General and the Actress fasted and prayed. They recalled the too many times they had
missed the mark, and considered all they had learned and cherished on their
shared pilgrimage. It was Yom Kippur as
it should be—serious but not sad.
Indeed, as dusk approached, they experienced the relief and joy of
spiritual cleansing that comes at the close of an arduous journey taken with
integrity.
As the sun sank low in the western
sky, the Beggar emerged from behind the iron gate to the white-domed burial
cave.
“G’mar tov,” he said—“May you all be sealed for blessing in the Book
of Life. The day is fading, the sun is
setting. Ne’ilah has arrived. It is
the hour of the closing of the gates.”[i]
Then the Beggar threw back his
hood and all the ragged bandages covering his body fell away. As he stood tall, stepping out of the shadows
in gleaming white garments, the Companions immediately recognized him from their
dream: their enigmatic guide had transformed into the sage they had sought from
the start.
“Shimon Ben Zoma!” they gasped,
“You’ve been with us all the while.”
“Hineni” said the Sage, “Here I am.
Here we are, together at the
end and beginning of the trail.”
There was a long silence.
Each of the Companions was
flooded with reflections on the lives they’d left behind and all that loomed
upon their now-imminent return:
Relationships to mend.
Careers to reconsider.
Promises to keep
Wounds to heal.
Opportunities to explore.
So many choices to be made, and
challenges to be met.
There were old dreams yet to be
realized, new ones still to be born,
and all the responsibilities
that come of those dreams, old and new alike.
Ben Zoma looked into their eyes
and felt their trepidation.
“Yes, my Companions, it’s
true—your road from here will not be easy.
But you have proven yourselves wise and wealthy, honored and powerful
enough to walk it with your heads held high.”
“But tell us,” said the
Companions, “where do we go from here?”
“You go where you’ve been
traveling, though you did not know it, since the moment you left. You see, this journey is like moving along
the circumference of a circle. As you
set out, it feels like every day, the starting point is getting further and
further away. But actually it is also
drawing closer.
For everywhere you’ve gone, you’ve been heading for home.”[ii]
With that, Ben Zoma waved
farewell, then turned back toward the burial cave and closed its iron gate
behind him.
The Companions lingered there
for a long while. And then, at last, they,
too, turned, beneath the brightly shining stars, to start off, together, toward
the countless gates awaiting us all in this still-new year.
[i]
From a piyut, a poem in the
traditional ne’ilah service: “Open
the gates for us, even now, even now, as the gates are closing and the day
begins to fade. Oh, the day is fading,
the sun is setting. Let us enter your
gates!
[ii]
Rabbi Alan Lew cites this teaching from Rabbi Joseph Solovetchik in his book This is Real and You are Completely
Unprepared.
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