The Monk’s Story

A monastery had fallen on hard times. It was once part of a great order which, as a result of religious persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, lost all its branches. It was decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the mother house: the abbot and four others, all of whom were over seventy. Clearly it was a dying order.

Deep in the woods surrounding the monastery was a little hut that the rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a heritage. One day, it occurred to the abbot to visit the hermitage to see if the rabbi could offer any advice that might save the monastery. The rabbi welcomed the abbot and commiserated. “I know how hard it is,” he said, “the spirit has gone out of people. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old rabbi and the abbot wept together and read parts of the Torah and spoke quietly of deep things.

The time came when the Abbot had to leave. They embraced. “it has been wonderful being with you,” said the Abbot, “but I have failed in my purpose for coming. Have you no piece of advice that might save the monastery?” “No. I am sorry,” the Rabbi responded. “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”

When the other monks heard the Rabbi’s words, they wondered what possible significance they might have. “The Messiah is one of us? One of us, here, at the monastery? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Of course, -- it must be the Abbot, who has been our leader for so long. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas, who is such a holy man. Or could he have meant Brother Elrod, who is so crotchety? But then Elrod is so very wise. Surely, he could not have meant Brother Phillip – he’s so passive. But then, magically, he’s always there when you need him. Of course he didn’t mean me – yet supposing he did? Oh, Lord, not me! I couldn’t mean that much to you, could I?”

As they contemplated in this matter, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah. And on the off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest where the monastery was situated was beautiful, people occasionally came to visit, perhaps picnic or to wander along the old paths, most of which lead to the dilapidated chapel. These visitors sensed the aura, permeating the atmosphere. The visitors began to come more frequently, bringing friends, and their friends brought friends. Some of the younger men who came to the forest began to engage in conversation with the monks. After a while, one asked of he could join then another and another. Within a few years, the monastery became once again a thriving order, and – thanks to the Rabbi’s gift – the vibrant, authentic community of light and love for each other and others had blossomed.

Adapted from The Art of Possibility, Benjamin Zander

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinners--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbor, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ were the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.

from The Weight of Glory, by C.S. Lewis...

Perhaps as we think about the birth of our savior Jesus and how he came to earth so ordinary we might also look upon everyone we meet as unique as the creator intended.