As long as a person lives under the illusion that he will live forever – endless doors open before him. His mindset dictates that the current situation – whatever he does in this moment, whatever items he may possesses – reflects the conditions of his life for all time. But when it is his time to descend from the throne – for this is the way of the world – will he find a place for yourself to be in happiness? Will he know to say “yes” in the face of descent?
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Introduction of a Story from The Seven Beggars
A tale : Once there was a king who had an only son. The king wanted to transfer the kingdom to his son during his lifetime, so he threw a grand party (which they call a “ball”). Now, when the king throws a ball there is certainly great merriment, so especially now that he was transferring the kingdom to his son during his lifetime, there was certainly a very great celebration. And there at the ball were all the royal officers and all the dukes and gentry, and people were very merry at the ball. And the country too was enjoying this — the king’s transferring his kingdom to his son in his lifetime — for it is a great honorific event for the king. So, a very great celebration took place there, and there were all types of festivities there: song groups, drama groups and so forth, as well as everything useful just for merriment — it was all there at the ball.
And when they had grown very merry, the king got up and said to his son, “Being that I am a stargazer, I see that you will at some time fall from the kingship. Therefore, see to it that you have no sadness (that is, no grief) when you fall from reign; just be happy. And if you will be happy, I will also be happy. Even if you will have sadness, I will still be happy that you are not king, since you are not fit to be king if you cannot keep yourself happy. (In other words, if you are the kind of man that you cannot keep yourself happy even when you fall from reign then you are not fit to be any sort of king). But when you will be happy then I will be extraordinarily happy.”
The king’s son took over the reign with a strong hand, appointing his own royal officers, and he had dukes, gentry and soldiers. Now, this son of the king was a clever person and loved wisdom very much, and many intellectuals accompanied him. And whoever came to him with some sort of wisdom was very esteemed by him, and he would grant them honor and riches for their wisdom. Whatever each one wanted he gave him: one wanted money — he gave him money; another wanted honor — he gave him honor; anything for wisdom. And because studying was so important to him, they all took to wisdom and the entire country was occupied with philosophies [chokhmoth], because this one desired money — in order to get money for it [being his motive] — and that one desired status and honor. And because all of them were busy only with philosophies, therefore they all forgot there in that country the strategies of war (in other words, how to wage a war), for they were all busy exclusively with philosophies, to such a degree that the smallest person in that country was the greatest sage in another country, while their own wise men were utterly wild scholars. And on account of their philosophies those wise men of the country fell into heresy and drew the son of the king too into their heresy. Albeit the simple folk were not harmed and did not become disbelievers, for there was great depth and subtlety in the sages’ wisdom, so the common folk were not able to enter into their wisdoms, therefore it did not harm them. Only the wise men and the king’s son became heretics.
And the king’s son, because there was good in him, for he was born with goodness and had good character traits, would frequently remind himself, “Where am I in the world? What am I doing?” etc. and would make a very big groan and sigh deeply over it. He would ponder, “What is this? I should be carried away with such things?! What is going on with me? Where am I in this world?” as he kept sighing intensely. Albeit as soon as he began to use his intellect the heretical philosophy became strong again in him. This happened numerous times, that he would still contemplate where he is in the world, what he is doing, etc. as above, with groaning and sighing — but as soon as he began using his intellect the heretical belief became strong in him again, as above.
(Translation from Wikisource.org with some changes)
Happiness in the Fall from Kingship
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I would like to focus once more on the opening of the story and approach it from a different angle. The story begins with a grand party, a merry feast: the king is retiring, transferring kingship to his son in his lifetime. This would appear to be a traumatic event: a person is aging, losing his strength, no longer capable of fulfilling his role or managing his activities. He gathers his children and says to them: “I have done my part, now you must continue my work.” What is there to celebrate here? For it is then that the king hosts a feast, with great merriment. Where does it come from? And why does Rav Nachman open with his story?
“And when they had grown very merry, the King got up and said to his son…” In the midst of this event, within this paradoxical happiness, the king turns to his son and says the following:
“Being that I am a stargazer, I see that you will at some time fall from the kingship. Therefore, see to it that you have no sadness (that is, no grief) when you fall from reign; just be happy. And if you will be happy, I will also be happy. Even if you will have sadness, I will still be happy that you are not king, since you are not fit to be king if you cannot keep yourself happy. (In other words, if you are the kind of man that you cannot keep yourself happy even when you fall from reign then you are not fit to be any sort of king). But when you will be happy then I will be extraordinarily happy.”
In the previous chapter, we discussed the significance of the happiness here. We noted that this happiness is not an expression of self-satisfaction and fullness, but rather a happiness that emerges from letting go of status, of all extra ‘trappings.’ I would like to suggest that the root of happiness is the king’s ability to ‘see the stars.’ This is a skill that develops specifically at the time of the fall from kingship, when the future is no longer full of hope and reality cannot be taken at face value.
Avigdor Dagan describes this juncture beautifully:
“People don’t want to see the stars, to look up at the sky. They continue walking, heads down, as though searching for something they’ve lost, when in fact they may need only to look up to find it…if only human beings looked up at the stars, the world would be different. If only they knew that our star is nothing more than a tiny blip in existence – and each one of us a speck of dust…If they contemplated the stars, then this earth’s creatures would be humbler. They wouldn’t boast, one person would not seek to rise above the other. They would appear absurd in their own eyes…Have you ever seen a blade of grass murder its neighbor? A grain of rice steal from its peer? A speck of dust battling another? The world would be different if human beings were different, and those human beings would be different if only they looked to the skies.”
This delightful segment can serve as a kind of interpretation of the description of the king as stargazer. As Dagan writes, this kind of vision is not possible so long as one lives with their ‘head in the ground,’ while all his hopes are built on direct, immediate input from his life. Such a perspective (or lack thereof) keeps a person in the here and now, incapable of lifting his eyes to the stars. Seeing the stars means freeing one’s everyday ‘gaze’ and looking at life from a different perspective – from the vantage point of a star (or even that of God). When one adopts this perspective, everything can change, and the world can become more metukan (whole, repaired).
Seeing the stars grants a perspective that views life from a point of no-thingness (לא-כלום, lit. ‘not-anything-ness’) that we spoke of in the previous chapter. It is not a place for aspirations, achievements, for all the things that man struggles for throughout his life. From that place of no-thingness one sees only the thing itself, the essence of existence. It is from here that Rav Nachman wants to retrieve ‘extraordinary happiness’. This is the position that is possible in the face of a descent from monarchy – which is the very vision that the king sees in the stars for his son.
As long as a person lives under the illusion that he will live forever – endless doors open before him – he will not encounter himself in a bare, pure space. His mindset dictates that the current situation – whatever he does in this moment, whatever items he may possesses – reflects the conditions of his life for all time. He never even considers that he may one day face a ‘descent from kingship.’ Yet as a person grows older, he starts to realize that the future no longer lies at his feet. A young person busies himself with thoughts of what he’ll do; a grown adult can say to himself that he’ll continue on with what’s he’s doing; but an old man knows that the future is no longer there, and he sees before him only a descent from kingship.
At this point, a question arises. Rav Nachman presents this question through the king’s words to his son: “What happens to you in this scenario? Does it tear you apart, leaving a no-one behind? Or do you manage to remain happy, to use the no-thingness as your deepest truth?”
The ability to say “yes” to these questions is at the core of this kind of happiness. This “yes” is a gentle gesture, not an ecstatic one. The test is whether in the hardest moments, standing at the threshold of losing everything, you can – in agreement with yourself – successfully say “yes” to life. This “yes” opens up the feeling that – even in the deepest crisis – God speaks to you (and perhaps it is precisely there that God does so). This gesture is not a forced overcoming of difficulty, but rather both a very light and very difficult gesture of letting go of dependence – a gesture in which I discover that I actually do not need to hold on to anything.
This small act – the honest, quiet declaration – is the one that frees up an extraordinary happiness in the face of a descent from kingship. It is the king’s command to his son as he transfers the reign: ‘You are now receiving the kingship – you will have much wealth, success and material possessions. But from where I’m standing today, I can tell you with certainty that one day you will ‘fall.’
It is an almost brutal exchange between father and son – he entrusts the child with his own life experience, the familiarity with the world that has been acquired through hardship and crisis in a lifetime. But perhaps this is precisely an opening for a real connection, when you tell your son this difficult but simple truth. In that case, the connection that is formed is not due to your being exceptional, but the opposite: because you have exposed a vulnerability that the two of you share. “I fell; you too will fall.” And it is at this point that the two can walk together.
At this point, the king sets up the challenge for the son: when it is your time to descend from the throne – for this is the way of the world – will you find a place for yourself to be in happiness (as I am now)? Will you know to say “yes” in the face of descent?
