Ekev
Deuteronomy 7.12-11.25
Isaiah 49.14-51.3
Long ago and far away in ancient Egypt, a boy cared only about playing a wooden flute that he had carved himself. One day he came upon a beautiful garden surrounded by a stone wall. He scaled the wall and was entranced by the sight of a beautiful young woman who sat in the garden beside a pool of water. He felt such a deep longing that he began to play his flute.
When the girl did not turn around, he assumed that she could not hear him and he began to play everything that was in his heart. Each day he returned to play for the girl in the garden. He fell in love with her and he prayed that one day they would be married.
But the young man learned that the girl was the Pharaoh’s daughter, a princess whom an ordinary citizen could not love, let alone marry.
The heartbroken boy happened upon some caravan merchants whose tales intrigued him. They spoke of a magician who could do anything.
“Can he change a man’s soul?” the boy asked.
“He can change anything,” they replied.
He set out, and finding the magician, he explained his predicament of being in love with the Pharaoh’s daughter, who could never return his love.
“Can you make me powerful, unrelenting and cruel? Can you change me into a prince and a warrior?” he asked.
“I can do that and more,” replied the magician. “But listen carefully,” he warned, “because once I change a man’s soul, I can never change it back again.”
“All right,” the boy replied eagerly.
Three years passed and great misfortune befell the Pharaoh. Enemies attacked Egypt and the Pharaoh lost most of his land and wealth. His army was about to surrender when a handsome young man dressed in black asked to see the Pharaoh. The Black Prince told the Pharaoh that if he would allow him to lead his soldiers, the Pharaoh would win back his kingdom and wealth. Pharaoh agreed and within weeks the prince retook the lost territory.
Pharaoh, with his princess seated at his side, thanked the young man and told him he could ask for anything he wanted. Without taking his eyes off the princess, the Black Prince said, “I ask only for the hand in marriage of Princess Thudmos.”
The startled princess stood up and said, “Father, if it is your command, I will marry him, but first, please listen to my story. For many years, I sat alone every day in my garden. Then one day, a boy appeared on the wall. He didn’t notice me, but I noticed him. And he played the flute and every melody he played mirrored my feelings. I used to imagine that he would jump down from the wall, marry me and love me as much as I loved him. Daily, I would wait for his visits, only one day he left and never returned. I sent my servants to search for him, but he has not been seen in three years.
“Father,” the princess continued, “I know that I can never love anyone as much as I loved him, and I have taken a sworn oath to marry no one but him.”
The Black Prince listened and looked longingly at Princess Thudmos, and then said, “I would never make you marry me, for you see, I, too, once had a love as deep as yours.” And he turned and left the palace.
The universal theme of individual thirst and longing is one that many writers, including the biblical author, have struggled with. Ekev, this week’s Torah portion, provides a window into the soul of one such observer who fully understood the nature of spiritual craving. The terse line “Man does not live by bread alone” (Deut. 8:3) acknowledges that to be fully human, individuals must do more than just take care of their bodily needs; they must care for their souls as well.
So important did the rabbis consider this line that they included it in Birkat Hamazon, the grace after meals, to acknowledge that there is more to life than a full stomach. In so doing, the rabbis hoped to remind faithful Jews to look beyond themselves, to show gratitude and appreciation for beauty, affection, community, personal associations and companionship.
The story of the Black Prince touches a responsive chord because we all have hidden hungers that we struggle to satiate. In two weeks, the Hebrew month of Elul begins, marking a penitential period of introspection and contemplation that precedes the High Holy Days. For those who treat it seriously, it is a reminder that the greatest rewards come not from what we have or lack, what is lost or found, but rather from understanding that satiety comes from more than eating.