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The Abbot's Gift
Dec. 28th, 2005 03:19 amOnce upon a time – somewhere in Northern or Eastern Europe, in about the 15th century – in a remote forest – there was a dying monastery. It had once been a thriving place – a great attraction for pilgrims who came for retreats led by the monks, and to worship with the monks in the beautiful Abbey, full of statues and icons and radiant stained glass windows.
But, over the years, the streams of pilgrims slackened to a few every year, and finally even those stopped coming. The number of young men who came to offer their lives in religious vocation slowed to a stop. In the end there were only the very elderly Abbot and four other monks, middle-aged but approaching elderly, still living out their vocations in the monastery. Their faith was at a low ebb, and they lived out their lives in the expectation that when all of them had died, the monastery itself would die and crumble away.
One day, the Abbot summoned Brother Jerome to his side and asked him to bring the others to his chamber. As they gathered around his bed, they could see he was not well. “I am going to die soon, old friends. I have prayed long and hard for something to help us, to change the path we are on, but I fear I have no new wisdom to share, no fresh ideas. I will leave it to you to determine who shall lead when I am gone.”
With that, his body slumped and his eyes shut, and the monks, almost as one, started keening, their sadness overwhelming them. Suddenly, the Abbott bolted upright, and with fervor, looked at each of them, and declared “One of you is the Messiah!” He fell back to his bed and was dead before a-one of them could so much as open his mouth.
Brothers Jerome, Thomas, Charles, and Stan stood very very still, and looked at each other with questions in their eyes. Slowly, the monks returned to their daily rounds of prayer and work. Brother Jerome found himself thinking again and again of what the Abbot had said and about each of his fellow monks.
Was one of them actually the Messiah? How could this be? Was it Charles, or Thomas, or even Stan? It could be Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Charles! Charles gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people's sides, when you look back on it, Charles is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the Abbot did mean Brother Charles. But surely not Brother Stan. Stan is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Stan is the Messiah.
Of course the Abbot didn't mean me. He couldn't possibly have meant me. I'm just an ordinary person. Sure, I try to be observant and reverent, but I am only human. Aren’t I? I am a decent enough individual, sure, but the Messiah? Maybe I am the Messiah! Wouldn’t I know? But wouldn’t they know, if one of them was the Messiah?
Brother Jerome pondered on it, as did each of the others, in much the same sort of way. They felt, much of the time very confused and sad. If the Messiah was here, why didn’t something happen?
But a strange thing did begin to happen. They began to treat each other with an extraordinary respect. If one of them actually were the Messiah, he was worthy of all the love and respect any mortal could give. They helped each other more. They were especially careful to treat each other with loving regard – and prayed more for each other in their daily offices in the Abbey. The expected irritations of monastic life decreased with their urge to create an atmosphere of love and caring for each other.
Finally one day a few pilgrims came. They had mistaken this monastery for another, and were at first irritated to find themselves in such a sad, dilapidated place. But as they spent a few days, they were struck and awed by the love and care with which the monks treated both them and each other. They told others, and the following year more pilgrims and visitors came. Respected men from the nearby city came to seek religious counsel from the monks. The tide of pilgrims once again swelled. Several young men came to talk to the monks about being admitted as novices in the order. The monks still wondered which one of them was the Messiah, and gave thanks daily in their devotions that the presence of God was once again felt in the monastery.
**********************
I learned this story roughly this way a long time ago. As "The Rabbi's Gift" it has been presented over the centuries, including a version, from which this borrows a smidgen, by Scott Peck in Different Drum. It made an impression on me then and it does again as I reread it.
And I tell you this now: One of you is the Messiah!
But, over the years, the streams of pilgrims slackened to a few every year, and finally even those stopped coming. The number of young men who came to offer their lives in religious vocation slowed to a stop. In the end there were only the very elderly Abbot and four other monks, middle-aged but approaching elderly, still living out their vocations in the monastery. Their faith was at a low ebb, and they lived out their lives in the expectation that when all of them had died, the monastery itself would die and crumble away.
One day, the Abbot summoned Brother Jerome to his side and asked him to bring the others to his chamber. As they gathered around his bed, they could see he was not well. “I am going to die soon, old friends. I have prayed long and hard for something to help us, to change the path we are on, but I fear I have no new wisdom to share, no fresh ideas. I will leave it to you to determine who shall lead when I am gone.”
With that, his body slumped and his eyes shut, and the monks, almost as one, started keening, their sadness overwhelming them. Suddenly, the Abbott bolted upright, and with fervor, looked at each of them, and declared “One of you is the Messiah!” He fell back to his bed and was dead before a-one of them could so much as open his mouth.
Brothers Jerome, Thomas, Charles, and Stan stood very very still, and looked at each other with questions in their eyes. Slowly, the monks returned to their daily rounds of prayer and work. Brother Jerome found himself thinking again and again of what the Abbot had said and about each of his fellow monks.
Was one of them actually the Messiah? How could this be? Was it Charles, or Thomas, or even Stan? It could be Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Charles! Charles gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people's sides, when you look back on it, Charles is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the Abbot did mean Brother Charles. But surely not Brother Stan. Stan is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Stan is the Messiah.
Of course the Abbot didn't mean me. He couldn't possibly have meant me. I'm just an ordinary person. Sure, I try to be observant and reverent, but I am only human. Aren’t I? I am a decent enough individual, sure, but the Messiah? Maybe I am the Messiah! Wouldn’t I know? But wouldn’t they know, if one of them was the Messiah?
Brother Jerome pondered on it, as did each of the others, in much the same sort of way. They felt, much of the time very confused and sad. If the Messiah was here, why didn’t something happen?
But a strange thing did begin to happen. They began to treat each other with an extraordinary respect. If one of them actually were the Messiah, he was worthy of all the love and respect any mortal could give. They helped each other more. They were especially careful to treat each other with loving regard – and prayed more for each other in their daily offices in the Abbey. The expected irritations of monastic life decreased with their urge to create an atmosphere of love and caring for each other.
Finally one day a few pilgrims came. They had mistaken this monastery for another, and were at first irritated to find themselves in such a sad, dilapidated place. But as they spent a few days, they were struck and awed by the love and care with which the monks treated both them and each other. They told others, and the following year more pilgrims and visitors came. Respected men from the nearby city came to seek religious counsel from the monks. The tide of pilgrims once again swelled. Several young men came to talk to the monks about being admitted as novices in the order. The monks still wondered which one of them was the Messiah, and gave thanks daily in their devotions that the presence of God was once again felt in the monastery.
**********************
I learned this story roughly this way a long time ago. As "The Rabbi's Gift" it has been presented over the centuries, including a version, from which this borrows a smidgen, by Scott Peck in Different Drum. It made an impression on me then and it does again as I reread it.
And I tell you this now: One of you is the Messiah!
