This incident relates to elements which are central to the unfolding of collective wisdom: recognition and valuing of differences; and with this: consideration and respect as a basic posture towards others; and: esteem and recognition as well for one’s own dignity.
Many of you may already know this story:
It’s about a once thriving monastery, which at the beginning of the Twentieth Century, after a long period of decline, was so diminished that only five monks were left in the crumbling main residence. This group included the abbot and four monks, all over 70 years old. Very clearly a dying monastic order.
The abbot, tormented by the imminent demise of his order, one day came up with the idea of going to visit the nearby hermitage of an old rabbi and asking him whether he might have some advice on how the monastery could be saved. As the abbot was explaining the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only express his sympathy.
“I know how it is!” he cried out. “The spirit has left the people. It’s the same in my congregation. Almost no one comes to the synagogue any more.” And so the old abbot and the old rabbi cried on each other’s shoulders. Then they read passages out of the Torah and discoursed quietly together on profound matters. The time came for the abbot to take his leave. They embraced each other. “It was wonderful after such a long time that we’ve come together again,” said the abbot, “but still, I haven’t achieved the aim of my visit. Is there nothing that you could say to me, no advice that you can give me, which could help me save my dying order?” “No, I’m sorry,” answered the rabbi. “I have no advice to give. The only thing that I can say is that the Messiah is one of you.”
When the abbot returned to the monastery the brothers circled all around him, clamoring: “Well, tell us, what did the rabbi have to say?”
“He couldn’t help me,” answered the abbot. “We just cried and read the Torah together. The only thing that he did say, though, just as I was about to leave – it was rather mysterious – was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant by that.”
In the following days and weeks and months, the old monks brooded over this, and asked themselves whether the words of the rabbi could possibly have some kind of significance.
The Messiah is one of us? Could he have possibly meant one of us monks here in the monastery? If so, then which one of us could it be? Do you believe he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant one of us, then presumably the abbot. He’s been our spiritual leader for more than a generation.
On the other hand, he could also have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light.
Certainly he couldn’t have meant Brother Elred! Elred with his bad moods. But looked at more closely, even if he’s a thorn in the side for people, Elred is practically always right. Often quite right. Maybe the rabbi actually did mean Brother Elred!
But surely not Brother Philipp. Philipp is so passive, a real nobody. But, on the other hand, almost in magical fashion, he has the gift of always being there when you need him. He simply appears at your side, as if by a miracle. Maybe Philipp is the Messiah!
Of course, the rabbi didn’t mean me. In no way could he have meant me! I’m just a very ordinary person. But, assuming he meant me - assuming I’m the Messiah? Oh God, not me! I really couldn’t be so much for You, or could I? -
As they began reflecting in this manner, the old monks began to treat each another with extraordinary respect for the improbable case that one of them really was the Messiah.
And for the most improbable case of all, that each one of the monks himself could be the Messiah, they also began to treat themselves with this same extraordinary respect.
The rare visitors to the monastery, it was reported, began to sense the aura emanating from this exceptional respect which had begun to surround the five old monks, and which seemed to have penetrated the entire atmosphere of their home. The place began to have something oddly magnetic about it. Indeed, it took on an almost irresistible quality.
And so it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that eventually novices began to ask for admittance, and that thanks to the rabbi’s gift the monastery awoke over the course of just a few years to a new and vibrant life. —
Thus ends this story about the experts, that we all are.
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lovely story
Posted by: john | December 11, 2006 at 10:33 PM