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
