On the Floor

The last few months, I’ve been on the floor spiritually. Things got so bad a few weeks back, that I literally felt like the forces of darkness were ripping me bodily away from G-d, away from my faith, away from my desire to carry on – and they very nearly managed it, G-d forbid.
 
What helped me hang on – the only thing that helped me hang on – was anger. I stomped off to the Kotel (which is a 15 minute walk from my home now) and the whole time I was yelling at G-d:
 
“G-d! Even though You apparently don’t want me, and even though You are apparently making me suffer so much, and stopping all the good in my life from shining through I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!! I’m standing right here, I’m staying close to You, and I demand You start helping me out, and treating me better!!”
 
Ten seconds after that tirade, I waited for the bolt of lightning to strike, but thankfully, it didn’t. What did happen, though, is that G-d lifted me off the floor. A fraction. But enough to make me feel a little better, a little calmer, a little less alone, and a little more supported by and cared for by the Almighty.
 
But circumstances being circumstances, and my life being my life at the moment, by Rosh Hashanah, I was back on the floor – and it was worse than ever. I had absolutely no desire to pray. I had absolutely no energy to cook. I had absolutely no hope that the new year was going to change, or improve, or fix anything.
 
After all, last year I got up with the sunrise minyan, twice, and I davened the whole service until the very last second. I spent the whole holiday trying not to get angry, and not to judge. I didn’t invite any guests, or accept any invitations, because I didn’t want to get pulled into judgement calls, or arguments or anger.
 
Man, last year I was so holy. And look where it got me: skint, homeless, friendless and seriously ill.
 
This year, I simply couldn’t muster up the energy to do any of that ‘holy’ stuff. I didn’t even know where I was going to pray. I was on the floor, and I was seriously doubting the power of even Rosh Hashanah, even Rebbe Nachman, to get me back on my feet again.
 
But I was wrong.
 
The day before the holiday started, I had a call from old friends of mine, who were spending Rosh Hashanah in the holy city. Long story short, I got an invite for lunch, which broke the monotony and loneliness of a three day holiday without my husband, and also cracked the misery and despair that had settled on me like a black shroud.
 
Maybe G-d did love me after all. Maybe, this Rosh Hashanah was going to be OK. Maybe, things were going to turn around.
 
On the first day of the holiday, G-d threw me another life-line: my neighbors were having a brit milah in the Old City the next day, and they invited us to come.
 
Now I really cheered up! Because everyone knows that Eliyahu Hanavi comes to every Brit, and he takes all your sins away with him. What a present, on the second day of Rosh Hashanah.
 
OK, maybe I couldn’t find much conviction or hope to pray with; maybe my preparations for chag were basic, at best; maybe I had no community to belong to, no guests, precious little emuna. But G-d was sorting out my new year for me anyway, as only G-d could.
 
Strangely, this new year, where I couldn’t pray very much, couldn’t smile very much, couldn’t aspire to anything much at all, felt so much ‘sweeter’, than last year, when I was off being super-duly holy.
 
I realized afterwards, G-d takes you the way you want to go. Last year, I could feel the judgement so much, it was literally palpable – and I had a very hard year. This year, I was so broken, I was searching for G-d’s love and acceptance. I was looking for reassurance that even though spiritually I’m on the floor, G-d is down here with me.
 
And I found it.
 
With G-d’s help, it’s going to be a good year. With G-d’s help, I’m going to get off the floor – and you are too. He’s going to pull you, me and the whole of Am Yisrael up, dust us off, and return us to where we belong, right next to Him. So hang on. This darkness is only going to last a little while longer. And then – eternal light.