The Midnight Guest

Edelman, principal of a local school, has a nice home on the Jersey shore, no longer than five minutes walk from the beach. He goes to bed early every evening since he rises punctually at 5:30 AM. He is always the first one to arrive at school, before the most industrious of his staff and students. A stickler for detail, Edelman functions punctually according to a strict schedule. He doesn’t like mixing school business with pleasure and vice versa; he has separate time slots for everything. And worst of all, he doesn’t like surprises in the middle of the night, especially at 1:13 AM.
 
At first, he thought the knocking was part of a dream. When it persisted, he opened a bloodshot eye and realized that it was real. He put on his slippers and dragged his feet to the front door. In full living color was his happy-go-lucky nephew, a fun-loving basket-weaving major from a well-known Rocky-Mountain play-school university, standing at the front door.
 
“Say hey, Uncle Nat, what’s happening?”
 
“Ch-Chuck, it’s you?” stammered the disoriented principal, not used to such midnight reveille.
 
“Oh yeh, Unk, it’s all me, 6-foot-two-inches of blond-haired charm now gracing your doorstep.”
 
“W-what do you want, Chuck? Your mother didn’t mention anything to me about your coming.” Edelman couldn’t stand anything that wasn’t pre-planned. If something wasn’t entered on his calendar, as far as he was concerned, it didn’t exist. And a surprise like this in the middle of the night – what chutzpa!
 
“Mom doesn’t know I’m here. I felt like breathing some sea air, so I got on a flight from Denver to Newark. Besides, it’s been a whole year since I’ve seen you! Hey uncle Nat, you don’t seem happy to see me. Enjoy me while you can – I’ll only be here with you for a week…”
 
Edelman gulped, gasped then coughed. “A week,” he said to himself. “I’m going to have to put up with this overgrown sack of irresponsibility for an entire week…”
 
Chuck didn’t wait for any further invitation. He barged in the door – suitcase, surfboard and all –  dropping everything in the middle of the living-room floor.
 
“How about some coffee, eggs, and toast, Uncle Nat – I’m starving.”
 
Begrudgingly, like an indentured servant committed to cater to his nephew’s every whim, Edelman went into the kitchen and began to prepare a midnight repast for sister’s oldest son. All Edelman could think about was his interrupted sleep and schedule. He imagined how he’d wake up tired in the morning and all his day would be askew. After all, since when does his nephew care about him? Were it not for the beach and the surf – both of which his nephew doesn’t have back in Denver – he’d never see him. He should have known; this wasn’t the first time that Chuck surprised him in the first week of September. He didn’t have to be back on campus until the 15^th. Yet, Edelman’s school year had all ready begun. And with all the challenges of a new year, new staff members and new students, here’s Chuck – right in his lap!
 
“Chuck could care less about me,” thought Edelman while scrambling the eggs. “All he cares about is a warm bed, three squares, and a week on the beach. I don’t hear from him all year long, not even a measly email or text-message, ‘Uncle Nat, are you alive or dead?’ Nothing, nada, gornisht; but now, I’m the Hilton with all the amenities.”
 
* * *
 
How would you feel in Edelman’s shoes, taken advantage of? That’s a terrible feeling, for none of us like to feel used.
 
Are we a nation of Chucks? Don’t we act the same way? Once a year on the High Holidays, we knock on Hashem’s door and ask for life and a year-long meal ticket. The Torah says that we’re all beloved sons and daughters of Hashem. Is this the way a loving son or daughter acts?
 
Maybe you think that this doesn’t apply to you, for you observe Shabbat, eat Kosher and go to synagogue all year long.
 
But do you call Hashem every day? Even with the 29 days of Elul that we have to prepare for Rosh Hashanah, how can we possibly rectify our misdeeds from way back in Cheshvan or Tevet? Who remembers them at all? And that’s why we have problems in life, because we don’t daily cleanse our souls from all the accumulated spiritual grime from all year long. In the hot summer months, we surely cleanse our bodies daily; does a soul deserve any less?
 
An hour of personal prayer is like a spa for the soul.
 
Elul is a chance for a new beginning. This is an opportune time to cleanse ourselves with daily self-assessment and personal prayer; it’s also a great time to establish our personal relationship with Hashem. So let’s not be fair-weather friends once a year when the surf’s up. Let’s make personal prayer a part of our daily Elul agenda. Those who do can expect the best new year of their lives and a fresh new beginning.