The Turkey Prince #22 min read

This series is dedicated to the loving memory of Rabbi Moshe David Averick, l’illui nishmas Moshe David ben Naftali Yosef HaLevi v’Leah. May his neshama have an aliyah.

שֶׁפַּעַם אַחַת בֶּן הַמֶּלֶךְ נָפַל לְשִׁגָּעוֹן שֶׁהוּא עוֹף הַנִּקְרָא הִינְדִּיק, וְצָרִיךְ לֵשֵׁב עָרוּם תַּחַת הַשֻּׁלְחָן וְלִגְרֹר חֲתִיכוֹת לֶחֶם וַעֲצָמוֹת כְּמוֹ הִינְדִּיק.

It once happened that a Prince fell into insanity. He [thought he] was a bird called a turkey, and that he needed to sit naked under the table. There, he pecked/rolled pieces of bread and bones, just like a turkey.

Throughout the parable of The Turkey Prince, the prince is referred to in the original Hebrew as “Ben Melech” – the son of the king. While there are other terms, such as “Nasi”, that describe this role, the term Ben Melech is employed specifically. Additionally, Rebbe Nachman could have chosen the king himself for the lead role of the story, but he doesn’t. It is important to understand that Rebbe Nachman’s choice of character of the prince is a calculated one.

A prince is royal by virtue of his connection to his father, the king. It would seem, then, that the prince represents each and every Jewish person. Each Jewish person’s value is intrinsically attached to the fact that we are children of Hashem. By extension of this understanding, this would mean that the King is Hashem, the King of kings.

Now, the prince in our story may be very young, immature, and flawed – as are all people in the beginning stages of their development. However, as a prince, his potential for greatness, as well as the expectations for such, are immeasurably greater. He has all the privilege and potential to ensure his success. He has the finest educators, the most up-to-date equipment, and endless funds and support from the royal entourage, besides his pedigree. In addition, the prince has almost none of the excuses upon which many of us pin our own shortcomings. In short, the prince is held to a very high standard – and he is keenly aware of this fact.

When properly faced and prepared for, the awareness of his blessed situation and the expectations upon him to achieve his great potential can give the prince a tremendous advantage. The prince would be careful to soak up every drop of knowledge he can from his teachers and use every tool at his disposal to achieve success. However, this requires a level of fortitude which the prince in our story struggles to possess.

Unfortunately, this selfsame awareness of his nearly limitless potential can bring about an existential paralysis – a “shigaon”, in the words of Rebbe Nachman. For, the greater the height to which the prince can rise if he succeeds in using his resources wisely, the more dramatic the depths to which he will sink if he fails to harness his potential. As the saying goes, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” No person would bear a greater disgrace than the prince for failing to be successful in life, and the prince is acutely aware of this. When the pressure to fulfill his awesome potential simply grows too great, the prince collapses. Fear of failure overwhelms him. And, eventually, feeling like he has no other options, he chooses failure to alleviate that fear. He chooses to live life as a base animal, a turkey. He strips himself of his clothing and crawls under the table, away from the expecting eyes of his teachers and the King. He pecks at the crumbs that are in easy reach and quietly breathes a sigh of relief. Here, he can finally relax. Here, there is no fear of failure, no further level to which to fall. All animals are restricted to external stimuli and their instincts. This new bar of success is always easily in reach.

This paradigm of thought is a shigaon, a form of insanity, because it does not properly comprehend the reality of the prince’s circumstances. If we think about our situation in the same way, then we, too, have succumbed to a form of shigaon.

Thanks for reading! Join us next week as we continue our exploration of this parable!