There’s a Jewish folk-tale which runs
something like this: There once was a young man who aspired to great holiness.
After some time at working to achieve it, he went to see his Rabbi.
I think I have achieved sanctity. I’ve
been practicing virtue and discipline for some time now and I have grown quite
proficient at them. From the time, the sun rises until it sets, I take no food
or water. All day long, I do all l do all kinds of hard work for others and I
never expect to be thanked. If I have temptations of the flesh, I roll in the snow or in thorn
bushes until they go away, and then at night, before bed, I practice the
ancient monastic discipline and administer lashes to my bare back. I have
disciplined myself so as to become holy.
The Rabbi was
silent for a time. Then he took the young man by the arm and led him to a
window and pointed to an old horse which was just being led away by its master.
I have been observing that horse for
some time and I’ve noticed that it doesn’t get fed or watered from morning to
night. All day long it has to do work for people and it never gets thanked. I
often see it rolling around in snow or in bushes, as horses are prone to do, and
frequently I see it get whipped. I ask you: Is that a saint or a horse?
This is a good parable because it shows how simplistic it is to
simply identity sanctity and virtue with self-renunciation and the capacity to
do what’s
difficult. In popular thought, there’s a common spiritual equation: saint=horse.
What’s more difficult is
always better. But that can be wrong.
To be a saint is
to be motivated by gratitude, nothing more and nothing less. Scripture,
everywhere and always, makes this point.
For example, our
bishop needed surgery that he knew he had only a 11% chance of survival. When I
visited him in the hospital last Sunday, he joked that when the doctors look
into his brain they won’t find anything. This bishop has a wonderful sense of humor
and he appreciates all the love of his family and friends. Every time a nurse
came into his room for a procedure, he thanked her.
Today, he is
recovering from the surgery and once again he winked at me and said I was
right, “they looked inside and couldn’t find a thing.” His sister as at his
bedside said that he had been naughty trying to pull out all the tubes. Now he
wears mittens to keep his hands and the tubes safe.
This humble
bishop needs your prayers since the doctors found cancer and they are waiting
the biopsy results to see what treatment will help this humble saint get
better.
Lord, I pray for
all my Sonshine Friends in thanksgiving for sharing their gifts of time and
talent to make your love, compassion and mercy presence. Bless them all with
your grace of healing, strength and gratitude.
