Respect (wisdom stories)
The Wise Teacher
Johnny was at a wedding. He saw Mr. Clark, one of his high school teachers. Johnny said to him, “Do you remember me?”
Mr. Clark answered, “Not really. Who are you?” Johnny introduced himself.
“Ah, you were my student… third grade… you were my student. Wow! I haven’t seen you for so many years. How’s your life? What are you involved in?”
Johnny said, “I’m a teacher.”
“That’s wonderful!” said Mr. Clark. “What inspired you to become a teacher?”
“What inspired me to become a teacher was you”, Johnny continued.
Mr. Clark said, “Tell me, how did I inspire you to become a teacher?”
Johnny said, “I saw what an impact you had on me and I realized what an impact I could have on children and teenagers. I decided to go into education.”
Mr. Clark said, “So what type of impact did I have on you?”
Johnny went on to say, “One day, in between classes I stole a beautiful, expensive pocket watch from Fred, one of my classmates. It was his mother’s birthday present to him. Fred showed up after lunch break, telling you and the whole class that somebody had stolen his watch.”
Johnny continued, “I remember vividly how you addressed the class that afternoon asking that the watch be returned. I was too embarrassed to fess up and return the stolen watch.”
John went on to say, “You, Mr. Clark, you locked the classroom door and asked the class to line up and close our eyes. And you went from pocket to pocket. You came to my pocket and you found the watch and you gently pulled it out. You did not stop there. You continued, moving from pocket to pocket all the way to the end of the line. And you told us that it was OK for us to open our eyes.
You returned the pocket watch to Fred! On that day you saved my soul. You saved my dignity. You never said anything about the incident to anyone, not to Fred who was happy to get back the pocket watch, not to anyone, and most surprisingly, not even to me.”
John, with a hint of tears in his eyes, went on to say, “Wow this is what a teacher is. This is what a real educator is. This is what I want to do with my life.”
Mr. Clark, listening attentively, says, “That’s amazing, but truth be told, I don’t remember much of the story you just shared with me.”
John, curious, and wanting to learn, said, “But tell me Mr. Clark, you really don’t remember the story? When you see me and you hear my name? I’m sure you remember the story… that I stole the pocket watch! I’m sure you remember that unique and unusual ritual of lining us up and how not wanting to embarrass the ‘thief’, you asked everybody to close their eyes! You really don’t remember that I’m the person who stole the watch.”
And Mr. Clark said, “Actually I don’t. I don’t remember!”
“Why not? It’s a pretty dramatic story” Johnny said.
And Mr. Clark concluded, “As I moved from pocket to pocket my eyes were closed too.”
The messiah is amongst you
A monastery had fallen on hard times. It was once part of a great order which, as a result of religious persecution 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 hermitage. 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 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 old Abbot wept together, 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 undoubtably a holy man. Certainly he couldn’t have meant Brother Elrod – he’s so crotchety. But then Elrod is very wise. Surely, he could not have meant Brother Phillip – he’s too 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 manner, 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 off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Because the forest in which the monastery was situated was beautiful, people occasionally came to visit the monastery, to picnic or to wander along the old paths, most of which led to the dilapidated chapel. They sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that surrounded the five old monks, permeating the atmosphere. They began to come more frequently, bringing their friends, and their friends brought friends. Some of the younger men who came to visit began to engage in conversation with the monks. After a while, one asked if he might join. Then another, and another. Within a few years, the monastery became once again a thriving order, and – thanks to the Rabbi’s gift – a vibrant community of light and love.
Source: Rosamund Zander and Benjamin Zander