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SEVEN PRIESTLY VIRTUES
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Jews in Eastern Europe in the eighteenth century were in trouble, and when times were extremely harsh the Baal Shem Tov would take himself off to a particular part of the forest to meditate and pray. He would first light a fire, then recite a special prayer. After this , the danger of misfortune facing the little struggling Jewish community would be averted. There would be a miracle.
The truth is much too large and inscrutable to be contained inside of neat, tidy, categorical concepts and ideas.
The
Baal Shem’s disciple, the Maggid of Mezeritch, tried to maintain this
tradition after the master’s death. When disaster struck the community,
he, too, would go into the forest, find the spot where his master had
prayed. He was not however, completely familiar with the ritual
practiced by Baal Shem. All he could say was, “Lord of the Universe,
hear me! I know nothing about lighting the fire. All I can do is say
the prayer.” It was enough. The disaster was averted. The little
community could live in peace.
Later on it fell to Moseh-Leib of
Sassov to bear the responsibility or the people. When tragedy
threatened, he, too, would go into the forest and simply say, “Alas, I
do not know the prayer. At least I know the place. This is the best I
can do.” Again the miracle happened and the people were saved.
Finally the burden fell on the shoulders of Israel of Rizhin. When misfortune struck all he could do was sit in his chair with his head in his hands. He addressed God in this way: “O Lord, I cannot light the fire and I have no idea about the prayer. Even the place is hidden from me. The best I can do is tell the story. This will have to do.” The mere telling of the story was enough to avert misfortune.
The toughest challenge of all, in a worldwide, respectable atmosphere of mendacity, is to tell the truth.
To keep faith and love alive and in the end to overcome death, the priest must keep telling the greatest story ever told, the Christ – story.
But – and this is the clincher – the priest is a pioneer, a pilgrim of the Absolute. He must not depend too much on the story, on the map, on what is know, safe and familiar. Dependency would kill him, for it is the unknown that gives him life. The unknown flowers when he is receptive to it, allowing it to enter. The unknown carries him to the constantly forming edge of the world where light , beauty and ecstasy are found. There is no other path to the spiritual, to the creative, to the real.
There
is a story about being storier that is good for you. A woman came to
Rabbi Israel, the Maggid of Koznitz, and told him with many tears that
she had been married a dozen years and still had not born a son. “ What
are you willing to do about it?” he asked her. She did not know what to
say. “ My mother,” so the Maggid told her, “ Was aging and still had
no child. Then she heard that the Holy Baal Shem was stopping over in
Apt in the course of a journey. She hurried to his inn and begged him
to pray she might bear a son. “ What are you willing to do about it?”
he asked. “My husband Is a poor bookbinder,” she replied, “but I do
have one fine thing that I shall give to the Rabbi.” She went home as
fast as she could and fetched her good cape, her “katinka” which was
carefully stored away in a chest.
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