You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its flavor, with what will it be salted? It is then good for nothing, but to be cast out and trodden under the feet of men.
There are days when I struggle to maintain a sense of purpose. Of utility. To myself, and others. When I feel cast out and carelessly trodden underfoot. Days when I despair of regaining any saltiness, any means with which to flavor this life. Days when I am “poor in spirit”.
It is at times like these when the angels arrive. People, I believe, sent by God to remind me not only of my innate worthiness, but of His loving presence. Everything I see, I tell myself, is an expression of God. This morning I found a carpet of tiny white flowers amid an expanse of grass. One long blade bent under the burden of three drops of water. I feel both joy in the perfection of the miniature blossoms, and bowed myself by a great weight.
Baal Shem Tov says ” In God’s palace, there are many doors, each with its own key. But there is one key that opens all the doors. That key is the broken heart.”
It is the salt of my tears which restores my ability to savor.