The four rabbis: a parable*
Oct. 23rd, 2009 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pjthompsonFour rabbis were visited by an angel who offered to take them to Paradise to see some of the mysteries therein. Whisked into the heavens, they saw Ezekiel's Mighty Wheel in all its puzzling, light-filled glory.
As the angel brought them back from Paradise to Earth, one rabbi's mind could not contain all the wonders he had beheld. He went mad with it, and spent the rest of his days quite insane.
The second rabbi said, "I had a dream, an imaginary flight. Nothing really happened. It's foolishness to believe otherwise." He repeated this to himself for the rest of his days.
The third rabbi became obsessed with the Wheel, talking and thinking of nothing else. He stopped anyone who would listen, going on and on about what the thing looked like, how it seemed to change before the eyes as if each new layer of mystery brought forth only more mystery. He was determined to pierce each one, and so spent the rest of his days pursuing the meaning of what he saw to the exclusion of all else.
The fourth rabbi came home, sat down by the window, and wrote a poem about the arcing and twirling melodies of the birds in the trees; and another about the soft touch of evening light encircling the petals of the roses; and another about the smell of twining smoke on the autumn air; and another about the radiant smile of his baby girl. For the rest of his days, he lived his life, better than the way he'd lived before.
*There are many versions of this parable. Mine was inspired by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.
As the angel brought them back from Paradise to Earth, one rabbi's mind could not contain all the wonders he had beheld. He went mad with it, and spent the rest of his days quite insane.
The second rabbi said, "I had a dream, an imaginary flight. Nothing really happened. It's foolishness to believe otherwise." He repeated this to himself for the rest of his days.
The third rabbi became obsessed with the Wheel, talking and thinking of nothing else. He stopped anyone who would listen, going on and on about what the thing looked like, how it seemed to change before the eyes as if each new layer of mystery brought forth only more mystery. He was determined to pierce each one, and so spent the rest of his days pursuing the meaning of what he saw to the exclusion of all else.
The fourth rabbi came home, sat down by the window, and wrote a poem about the arcing and twirling melodies of the birds in the trees; and another about the soft touch of evening light encircling the petals of the roses; and another about the smell of twining smoke on the autumn air; and another about the radiant smile of his baby girl. For the rest of his days, he lived his life, better than the way he'd lived before.
*There are many versions of this parable. Mine was inspired by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.