Leadership Thought: The Rabbi's Gift.

The story below is one of my favorites told by Scott Peck in his book The Different Drum. It has always challenged me to think about what people see in me as they watch me live out my life. What reminded me of the story was a few weeks ago I received an encouraging letter from Mike, one of my former students in a Spiritual Leadership class I taught while serving at Calvary Chapel, Old Bridge NJ, several years ago.  In his letter he mentioned some things he appreciated about the class, and he identified some of the quotes he has memorized and some of the principles he had learned. And then he mentioned this story, and he even sent me a photo of it to remind me of what it had meant to him. I share it with you this morning in hopes it will speak to you as it spoke to this young man, and as it continues to speak to me throughout my lifetime.  

The Rabbi's Gift

There was a famous monastery, which had fallen on very hard times.  Formerly its many buildings were filled with young monks and its big church resounded with the singing of the chant, but now it was deserted.  People no longer came there to be nourished by prayer.  A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised their God with heavy hearts.

On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a little hut.  He would come there from time to time to fast and pray.  No one ever spoke with him, but whenever he appeared, the word would be passed from monk to monk.  “The rabbi walks in the woods.”  And, for as long as he was there, the monks would feel sustained by his prayerful presence.

One day the abbot decided to visit the rabbi and to open his heart to him.  So, after the morning Eucharist, he set out through the woods.  As he approached the hut, the abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched to welcome.  It was as though he had been waiting there for some time.  The two embraced like long lost brothers.  Then they stepped back and just stood there, smiling at one another with smiles there faces could hardly contain.

After a while, the rabbi motioned the abbot to enter.  In the middle of the room was a wooden table with the Scriptures open on it.  They sat there for a moment, in the presence of the Book.  Then the rabbi began to cry.  The abbot could not contain himself.  He covered his face with his hands and began to cry too.  For the first time in his life, he cried his heart out.  The two men sat there like lost children, filling the hut with their sobs and wetting the wood of the table with their tears.

After the tears had ceased to flow and all was quiet again, the rabbi lifted his head.  “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts,” he said.  “You have come to ask a teaching of me.  I will give you a teaching, but you can only repeat it once.  After that, no one must ever say it aloud again.”

The rabbi looked straight at the abbot and said, “The Messiah is among you.”

For a while, all was silent.  Then the rabbi said, “Now you must go.”

The abbot left without a word and without looking back.

The next morning, the abbot called his monks together in the chapter room.  He told them he had received a teaching from “the rabbi who walks in the woods” and that this teaching was never again to be spoken aloud.  Then he looked at each of his brothers and said, “The rabbi said that one of us is the Messiah.”

The monks were startled by this saying, “What could it mean?” They asked themselves, “Is Brother John the messiah?  Or Father Matthew?  Or Brother Thomas?  Am I the Messiah?  What could this mean?”

They were all deeply puzzled by the rabbi’s teaching.  But no one ever mentioned it again.

As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a very special reverence.  There was a gentle, wholehearted, human quality about them now, which was hard to describe but easy to notice.  They lived with one another as men who had finally found something.  But they prayed the scriptures together as men who were always looking for something.  Occasional visitors found themselves deeply moved by the life of these monks.  Before long, people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks and young men were asking, once again, to become part of the community.

In those days, the rabbi no longer walked in the woods.  His hut had fallen into ruins.  But, somehow or other, the old monks who had taken his teaching to heart still felt sustained by his prayerful presence.”

I hope that you have appreciated this story as Mike and I have. If it has touched your heart,  would you continue to share it by living like the One who still walks among us, and whose life and love is still visible in those outstretched arms pinioned to a wooden cross beam that shouts "no one is ever too unworthy to be received and embraced by my arms of love,"

Have  blessed weekend,

Yours in faith and fellowship,

Tom