I am taking a break from Malcolm Gladwell and sharing some pre High Holiday nuggets that don’t make it to the big time, as we get closer to the days that still make rabbis very nervous no matter how many years they have been officiating.
We await the coming of the Messiah who will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity. It doesn’t seem like we mortals can get that done. But is all that we can do is wait? Absolutely not. I want to share a beautiful little tale called “The Rabbi’s Gift.” I hope it can be my gift to you and to all of us.
There was a monastery that had fallen upon such hard times there were only five monks left in the decaying monastery: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order. Now in the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. As the abbot agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot to visit the rabbi and ask if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.
The rabbi welcomed the abbot to his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old abbot and the rabbi wept together.
The time came when the abbot had to leave. They embraced each other. “It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years,” the abbot said, “but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?” “No, I am sorry,” the rabbi responded. “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that one of you is the Messiah.”
When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, “Well, what did the rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the abbot answered. “We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving – it was something cryptic – was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”
In the days and weeks that followed, the old monks wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi’s words. The Messiah is one of us? Which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Maybe Brother Elred. Maybe Brother Philip. Of course the rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah…
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off, off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people occasionally came to visit the monastery. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently. They brought their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends. Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order, thanks to the rabbi’s gift.
Where do we go from here? Let us receive the Rabbi’s gift and use it to strengthen the communities in which we live and pray, and to strengthen our own sense of worth. The effect of this kind of extraordinary respect for others and for our own selves will surely be to help bring about the Messianic Age, the betterment, the healing of this troubled world.
Ponder this for the new year and best regards. Bill Rudolph