NATURAL REPENTANCE
The Maggid of Mezritch, in his role as a preacher, had a parable he often related meant to awaken the public to teshuvah, to repent:
A certain country rebelled against its king. But after some time had passed, they all awakened to appease the king. They decided to send an emissary to appease the king on behalf of all the country’s inhabitants. But whom should they send? First, they turned to the prime minister, but the prime minister refused. Since he was of highest rank, his sin was also the worst, and he was ashamed to approach the king. One after another, all the ministers and important people of that country said the same. Then they turned to simple people, and they too evaded the mission. And so, they went down and down until they reached the lowliest and most rejected beggar in the country. The beggar did not hesitate much, and when he heard what was required of him, he immediately went to the king, conveyed the country’s remorse for their rebellion, and appeased him.
How does one awaken to repentance?
In the time of the Maggid of Mezritch, there were many preachers who tried to do exactly this. If it was a preacher with a harsh character, he would pour fire and brimstone upon the listeners and describe the punishments of hell awaiting them. If it was a man of softer and more compassionate heart, he would describe the Creator’s love and kindness, and His sorrow over the evil deeds of His beloved children.
But here, the Maggid of Mezritch does something entirely different. He illuminates in a vivid, even humorous way, the evasion and difficulty that usually accompany the work of repentance. The question he asks is the question of his listeners: How does one do teshuvah? He resolves this difficulty through the character of the beggar. He is, as it turns out, the only one capable of doing what everyone else fears—going to the king and begging for reconciliation. What does the beggar teach us and what answer does he have to this question?
In the Zohar, the sefirah of understanding is identified with teshuvah. But understanding is also known as “the world of freedom.” The teshuvah that the beggar teaches us is a teshuvah of natural consciousness, where behaving properly is the simplest and most natural thing. Such teshuvah is free from all the inhibitions of the ministers, who by virtue of their roles feel the complexity and toil that reality demands.
Usually, we are far from a lifestyle of natural consciousness. This is a messianic, redemptive style of teshuvah, of a world whose nature draws it to behave according to God’s will. But the identification of natural teshuvah specifically with a beggar prompts us to an interesting thought: It is precisely the importance we attribute to ourselves and our actions that prevents us from changing them and ourselves. If I hold myself to be important, like a minister, I also attribute great importance to the sin I have committed. Consequently, I will fear admitting to having transgressed and will not be able to beg forgiveness for my actions. Paradoxically, I will continue to linger on and on in the severe and terrible sin. But if I see myself as a beggar, then I am no one and I have no reputation or history to protect; then, the transition from sin to teshuvah is simple and easy.
Approaching repentance in this way can only come from true and deep lowliness and humility. From the perspective of a feeling of true lowliness, all our actions, whether bad, requiring teshuvah, or good and seemingly deserving of reward, can only be weighed by the Creator alone. When we sever ourselves from His will, our sins immediately become too heavy to carry, but in one moment of teshuvah, all their weight can be lifted and annulled.
