THE PRAYING SHEPHERD
AND OTHER STORIES:
A Cross-Traditional Comparison of Sacred Folk Narratives



Copyright 2006
Table of Contents






I. The Praying Shepherd pp. 1-26


II. Everything is for the Best pp. 27-35


III. The Hidden Treasure pp. 36-39


IV. The Beloved Knocks pp. 40-48


V. Planting for the Next Generation pp. 59


VI. The Finger in the Car Door pp. 60


VII. The Serpent’s Curse (Nachash and Nachusha) pp. 61-62
THE PRAYING SHEPHERD AND OTHER STORIES:
A Cross-Traditional Exploration of Sacred Folktales


Introduction

The following is a brief collection and discussion of seven folktales common to the major world religions. That is, they are shared and retold to fit the milieu in which they were presented. The tale that I have chosen to highlight in this paper is the one I here refer to as the story of the praying shepherd. It is essentially the story of a poor, illiterate person whose simple, heartfelt entreaties of the Divine are held to be more dear, we are told, than the learned, canonical, even virtuostic phrasings of the orthodox or “elite” adherent of the faith. I have chosen to spotlight this particular story for two principal reasons, the first being that these stories and their analysis serve to complement an earlier essay of mine entitled “Rachmana Libba Ba’e – God Desires the Heart,” in which I briefly discussed the praying shepherd story in the context of other examples of Jewish medieval literature. So this is a companion piece. The other reason I emphasize this particular story is simply because I have discovered more instances of it than any of the other stories presented here, perhaps, I would suggest, because there are more instances to be found than the other stories.
This paper must by its very nature be highly tentative and speculative in regard to the provenance and historical/ideological context of these stories. In fact, I say very little as to how the same story could be retold in so many different cultures and in so many different ways because I have as of yet not done sufficient research in this area. There are other essays which do deal in greater depth with this subject, most notably some of the works of Martin Buber, especially Origin of Hasidism, and Dr. Tamar Alexander-Frizer’s The Pious Sinner – works that I have drawn upon for some assistance in analyzing the stories presented herein. The value of this paper I feel does not depend on such speculation in any case. Rather, this paper stands by itself as a document of these stories, available now for comparison by those more capable to do so than myself. I do provide a brief introduction and discussion of each of the tales, but otherwise I leave a more probing analysis for others, or for a future edition of this paper.
I. The Praying Shepherd
a. The Praying Shepherd --A Medieval Jewish Version
SeferHasidim (The Book of the Pious) of Eleazar of Worms (c. 1160-c. 1230) contains the following story of a Torah scholar who is taught an important lesson in simple faith by an unlearned shepherd. The moral here is that even one unschooled in the Torah can be a hasid, that is a pious, even saintly individual. This was perhaps a reaction against one mainstream rabbinic opinion, voiced by Rabban Gamliel in Mishna Avot, 2:5, that ein bore yirey heyt, v 'lo am ha-aretz hasid --" A boor will never fear sin, nor will an
, am-ha-aretz ever be pious." On the other hand, one could argue that this story is already found in seed form in the Berakhot 17a , and perhaps its archetype is the similar stories concerning Avram and Pharaoh and Yitzchak and Avimelekh in Genesis 12:10ffand 26:6ff. The story has parallels in other world literature, as we shall see, and it is possible that the German Pietists (of whom Eleazar was perhaps the greatest exponent) were themselves influenced on this point by earlier Christian monastics. Here is the story as it is found in Sefer Hasidim:
Everything commanded that one is able to do he should do, and everything that is not in his power to do he should intend to do. It is like the case of a man who was a shepherd of cattle and didn't know how to pray. And all day long he would say: "Master of the Universe! It is well known to you that these are your cattle and they were given to me to watch them. For everyone I watch for a wage. But for you I would watch for free, because I love you. And he was an Israeli.
One time a scholar was walking on his way and he found the shepherd praying thus. He said to him, " Dummy, don't pray like that. " The shepherd said to him, " How should I pray? " Right then and there the scholar taught him the order of the blessings, and the recitation of the Shema and the Amidah, on the condition that he wouldn't pray his usual way. After the scholar left, he forgot all that he had taught him and he ceased to pray. And moreover, that which he had been accustomed to say he was afraid to say because that righteous man had prevented him.
That same scholar saw in a dream that night that they were saying to him: " If you don't tell him that he should say what he was accustomed to say before you came to him...and if you don't go, you will know the evil that you. will find because you stole from me one [intended] for the World-to-Come.
Immediately he went and said to him [the shepherd], "What are you praying? " He [the shepherd] said: "Nothing at all, because I forgot what you taught me. And you also commanded me to not say if He [God] had cattle. " The scholar said; "Thus and thus came to me in a dream. Say that which you are accustomed to say. "
Behold; in this it was neither Torah nor good deeds, rather that he thought to do good it elevated him [?] to a great thing. Because God desires the heart [Rachmana libba baei] . Therefore a man should think good thoughts for The Holy One, Blessed Be He [l'fikach yachshov adam machshovot tovot l'Ha Kodesh Barukh Hu].
Again, according to Eleazar he-Hasid, it doesn't matter how much Torah one has learned, or even if one knows how to pray in the orthodox fashion, but as long as one's intention is to love and serve God, then one's prayer will be found acceptable. Now, what seems ironic, if not paradoxical, is that such a story would be found in a text that ostensibly was to be read not by simple shepherds, and most certainly not illiterate ones, but by scholars. And yet the audience for this work were not merely scholars, as I noted, but hasidim, or hasidim-in-training, for whom humility was a chief virtue, if not the chief




virtue. Including such a story in their “training manual” was thus perhaps meant to serve as a corrective to any sense of superiority they might possess in regard to their learning and piety.

b. The Praying Shepherd: A Sufi (Muslim)Version
The next version is our story is found in Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-1273), a Persian Sufi mystic poet and a contemporary of Eleazar of Worms. Here it is not a scholar but Moses himself who instructs the shepherd in the "proper" way to pray, and who ultimately learns an all-important lesson from the simple man. Though Moses is quite highly regarded in the Islamic faith, it was apparently not considered blasphemous to ascribe fallibility to this particular prophet (not to mention the idea that there are "no rules for worship"!), while we might speculate that it would be were the story told in a Jewish context. After all, if it is indeed humility that God is after, as it is here, it would seem odd that Moses would show lack of same, or ignorance in regard to it, seeing how he is described in the Bible (Num. 12.3) as "a very humble man, more so than any man on earth" (not to forget that he began his own career as a humble shepherd). On the other hand, we should not overlook the fact that in Rumi's telling God does apparently speak "face to face" with Moses in a rather friendly fashion, and lets him be privy to divine secrets which Rumi dare not reveal. And yet, it is still the simple shepherd who has the final word:
Moses heard a shepherd on the road praying, "God, where are you? I want to help You, to fix your shoes and comb Your hair. I want to wash Your clothes and pick the lice off. I want to bring You milk, to kiss your little hands and feet when it's time for You to go to bed. I want to sweep Your room and keep it neat. God, my sheep and goats are Yours. All I can say, remembering You, is ayyyy and ahhhhhhhh."
Moses could stand it no longer. "Who are you talking to?"
"The One who made us, and made the earth and made the sky."
"Don't talk about shoes and socks with God! And what's this with Your little hands and feet? Such blasphemous familiarity sounds like you're chatting with your uncles. Only something that grows needs milk. Only someone with feet needs shoes. Not God! Even if you meant God's human representatives, as when God said, '1 was sick, and you did not visit me, even then this tone would be foolish and irreverent. "Use appropriate terms. Fatima is a fine name for a
woman, but if you call a man Fatima, it's an insult. Body-and- birth language are right for us on this side of the river, but nor for addressing the Origin, not for Allah."


The shepherd repented and tore his clothes and sighed and wandered out into the desert. A sudden revelation came then to Moses. God's Voice: You have separated Me from one of My own. Did you come as a Prophet to unite, or to sever? I have given each being a separate and unique way of seeing and knowing and saying that knowledge. What seems wrong to you is right for him. What is poison to one is honey to someone else. Purity and impurity, sloth and diligence in worship, these mean nothing to Me. I am apart from all that. Ways of worshiping are not to be ranked as better or worse than one another. Hindus do Hindu things. The Dravidian Muslims in India do what they do. It's all praise, it's all right. It's not Me that's glorified in acts of worship. It's the worshipers! I don't hear the words they say. I look inside at the humility. That broken-open lowliness is the Reality, not the language! Forget phraseology. I want burning, burning. Be friends with your burning. Burn up your thinking and your forms of expression! Moses, those who pay attention to ways of behaving and speaking are one sort. Lovers who burn are another.
Don't impose a property tax on a burned-out village. Don't scold the Lover. The "wrong" way he talks is better than a hundred "right" ways of others. Inside the Kaaba it doesn't matter which direction you point your prayer rug. The ocean diver doesn't need snowshoes. The Love- Religion has no code or doctrine. Only God. So the ruby has nothing engraved on it. It doesn't need markings. .
God began speaking deeper mysteries to Moses. Vision and words, which cannot be recorded here, poured into and through him. He left himself and came back. He went to Eternity and came back here. Many times this happened. It's foolish of me to try and say this. If l did say it, it would uproot our human intelligences. It would shatter all writings pens. Moses ran after the shepherd. He followed the bewildered footprints, in one place moving straight like a castle across a chessboard. In another, sideways, like a bishop. Now surging like a wave cresting, now sliding down like a fish, with always his feet making geomancy symbols in the sand, recording his wandering state.
Moses finally caught up with him. "1 was wrong. God has revealed to me that there are no rules for worship. Say whatever and however your loving tells you to. Your sweet blasphemy is the truest devotion. Through you a whole world is freed. Loosen your tongue and don't worry what comes out. It's an the Light of the Spirit."





The shepherd replied, "Moses, Moses, I've gone beyond even that. You applied the whip, and my horse shied and jumped out of itself. The Divine Nature and my human nature came together. Bless your scolding hand and your arm. I can't say what happened. What I'm saying now is not my real condition. It can't be said." The shepherd grew quiet. When you look in a mirror, you see yourself, not the state of the mirror. The flute player puts breath into a flute, and who makes the music? Not the flute.
The Flute player! Whenever you speak praise or thanksgiving to God, it's always like this dear shepherd's simplicity. When you eventually see through the veils to how things really are, you will keep saying again and again, "This is certainly not the way we thought it was!"
Rumi's version of the story (via Coleman Barks' rendering) is clearly a bit more colorful than that of Eleazar of Worms. The latter, too, leaves open the possibility that the scholar is still on a higher level than the simple shepherd --the scholar had just mistakenly placed more weight on form rather than content. When chastened by God, the scholar immediately goes back and corrects his mistake. In Rumi, it is not clear who
has achieved the greater level of divine understanding, Moses or the shepherd. It could be either, and as I said, a very good case could be made that the shepherd has the final say.
In the next two versions of the story (from the Hindu and Christian traditions respectively) we will look at, though, the answer to this question is obvious.

c. The Praying Shepherd: A Hindu Version
The following story, taken from the vast compendium of Hindu lore and legend, is actually but one of many Indian moralistic tales designed to lessen the arrogance of the "twice born" and exalt the virtues of simple faith and devotion. Yet although other tales could be adduced, the one below fits the general schema of the two we have already looked at, that general scheme being:
1) Learned, orthodox member of the faith meets unlearned member;
2) Orthodox member is scandalized by the unorthodox worship of the other;
3) Orthodox member attempts to correct the simple one, which the latter humbly and gratefully accepts;
4) God then comes to the orthodox adherent and corrects him, informing him that he must return to the simple one and correct what he had corrected.

Here, then, is a Hindu story that follows this general scheme:
An orthodox swami, going through a village, paused in front of a poor mud house. Somebody was laughing, somebody was singing. Intrigued; the swami went nearer and held out his bowl. He saw a woman feeding here children. There were five of them sitting on the ground -four beautiful children, and a fifth. To his great surprise, the fifth was the Child-Krishna, a statuette made of wood and plaster such as are sold in the markets. The mother was making a little ball of rice and putting in into one mouth after another. The Child-Krishna was receiving his share and this was why they were all laughing.
“What are you doing?" cried the swami. " How do you dare to play with the Lord Krishna and offer him that unclean food which goes from mouth to mouth? What sacrilege! " Frightened; the woman prostrated herself at the monk's feet. " My lord swami, " she said; " I had no idea I was doing wrong. My children are so happy to play with Shri Krishna. He is their companion. If I have offended the Supreme, how can I be pardoned? Please help me!"
"Give me that statuette, " said the monk severely, "and I will take it to the village temple where the Lord Krishna will be bathed and worshiped rightly and treated with respect instead of being used as a plaything. You will visit him when bringing your offerings to the priests!"
The children were upset. They were losing their friend. The mother wept for shame. She wrapped the statuette and gave it to the swami. He carried it to the temple and told the priests what he had seen. They were outraged. But the same night the swami could not go to sleep. Suddenly the Lord Krishna appeared to him in all his glory. "What have you done?" he said to the monk " I was so happy at that woman's house! I loved her devotion and her laughter, and now you have shut me up in a dark temple. Listen, I will not eat anything nor accept any offerings until you take me back to her. Her rice was cooked just right and that is the rice I want - no other!
Now in some ways, this version resembles the one in Sefer Hasidim more than Rumi's re-telling. For instance, both involve an orthodox adherent (a Torah scholar and a swami) who has a vision of God in a dream at night telling them that they mistreated one of God's pious albeit unsophisticated servants and that they must make amends (Rumi's version involves Moses, who has a revelation -a slightly different approach). One other interesting aspect of the Jewish and the Hindu version is that even though they acted inappropriately, the Torah scholar and the swami are both in their respective dreams granted a vision of God. One wonders why this should be considering their "unorthodox" behavior? Again, though both the Jewish talmid hakham (religious student) and the orthodox swami are chastised by God, the Jewish version seems to leave open the possibility that the Torah scholar is nevertheless on a higher footing than the illiterate shepherd, while the Hindu tale suggests that the swami's whole modus operandi needs to be revamped. The following story also suggests something along these lines.
c1. A Variation on the Statue of Krishna Story
In chapter 11 of the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna gives Arjuna “divine eyes” so that he may behold Krishna’s divine form, for, as Moses is told, no one can see God and live. In the following variant on the “Statue of Krishna” story, Krishna gives an arrogant priest divine ears so that he may hear the divine sound…in the voice of a tone-deaf watchman.


Once upon a time, in the temple of Krishna in Vrindaban, there was a night watchman who guarded the temple from thieves for in the inner shrine was a statue of Krishna with a large diamond imbedded in the crown. All night to keep himself awake he would sing devotional songs known as bhajans. One night the chief priest, who was a renowned classical musician, was walking by the temple and heard the strident, off-key songs escaping from within. He grew angry and burst into the temple.
“Stop that racket!” shouted the priest. “Your harsh voice disturbs the serenity of the temple. Don’t you know Lord Krishna is taking his rest at this time? Get out of this temple an never return!”
The shocked watchman left at once, and after a few minutes the priest’s anger subsided. He realized he had been impetuous, for now there was no one but himself to guard the temple. He decided to stay the night and look for a new watchman the next morning. Hardly an hour had passed when the priest heard heavy footsteps coming from the inner shrine of the temple. He checked both doors to the shrine, but they were still locked. No one could have slipped past him. He put his ear up to the door. The footsteps continued. Fearing that some clever thief had somehow found another way into the shrine, the priest unlocked the door and rushed in. To his astonishment he found the statue of Krishna pacing back and forth. O blessed night, thought the priest. Because of all my good work Lord Krishna has come to honor me in person. “My Lord!” cried the priest, falling to his knees. “To what do I owe this honor?” “I cannot sleep,” replied Krishna angrily. “The man who sings me lullabies all night is missing.”
The priest was stunned for a moment but then recovered his wits and said, “I will sing for you, my Lord. I am a most accomplished musician.” The priest got his tambura from the next room, tuned it, and began to sing in classical ragas the same bhajan he had heard the watchman sing. He played perfectly, his voice hitting each note with precision. After listening for several minutes Krishna waved his hand and said, “I have heard classical ragas for centuries and could sing them myself much better than you. No, I must have the singing of that watchman. For fifteen years I have listened to it and now it is the only thing that soothes me.” “But my Lord,” said the priest, “He is tone-deaf and has a nasal voice. Allow me to play my tambura while you relax to its musical drone.” “Don’t bore me!” said Krishna. “Get the watchman at once.” The frightened priest could not argue further and rushed to the house of the watchman. He heard sobbing coming from within, and knocked on the door. After several moments the watchman answered, tears rolling down his face. “What are you crying for?” asked the priest. “I have been separated from my beloved temple,” said the watchman. “My life is only worth living in devotion to my Lord.” “Then you are in luck,” said the priest bitterly. “Lord Krishna has come to life in the shrine and he is asking for you to come sing to him” Now it was tears of joy that flowed from the eyes of the watchman. He followed the priest at once. When they reached the temple Krishna was still inside pacing. “I could not sleep after you left,” said Krishna. “Please, start your bhajans, and lock the door as you have done every night.” The priest locked the door. The watchman had fallen to his knees and was gazing at Krishna in wonderment. The priest had to shake him, and then the watchman began to sing, tears still rolling down his cheeks. It was as harsh as ever, and even more faltering, and the priest winced, expecting Krishna to strike them both for insulting him with such noise. But he looked at Krishna, and the god had a look of deep contentment on his face. Then the priest heard a sound in the watchman’s voice that had been there all along, but that he had never noticed. It was as if he had been watching the reflection on the surface of the lake, and then suddenly by shifting his eye he saw for the first time the pure depths beneath.
The priest had performed concerts all over India, and had listened to many more, but never in his life had he heard this sound. It rose in his body like a crystal bell, and he understood that everything he had heard before then was just notes, just sound, and that what he was hearing now was pure love. For the first time in his life he experienced bliss. The night passed slowly. As the watchman sang the statue of Krishna returned to its pedestal and resumed its usual position. When the eastern sky began to turn red the watchman stopped singing and prostrated himself on the ground before the statue, tears of joy still falling. For a long time the priest waited for the watchman to rise. Finally, when he began to worry that the morning worshippers would start to arrive, he walked over to the watchman and said, “You can get up now. Your duty is done. Go home and sleep.” But the watchman did not respond. The priest gently shook him, and the watchman’s body rolled over. His soul had risen to be with his Lord, and though he was dead his face glowed with bliss, his body shone like the morning sun, and the temple shrine was filled with light.





d. The Praying Shepherd: A Christian Version
Leo Tolstoy crafted a version of our folktale that he entitled "The Three Hermits." He based it upon the following verse in the Gospel of Matthew from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount:
But when you pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do:
for they think that they shall be hard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. (Matthew 6:7-8)
Before I reprint the entire story as it is in Tolstoy, being as it is quite a bit lengthier than the others already presented I have chosen to also include here first a synopsis of the tale given by Tolstoy's friend, Nicholas Roerich (as found, interestingly enough, in Paramahamsa Yogananda'sAutobiography of a Yogi):
On an island there lived three old hermits. They were so simple that the only prayer they used was: 'We are three; Thou art Three --have mercy on us! ' Great miracles were manifested during this naive prayer. The local bishop came to hear about the three hermits and their inadmissible prayer, and decided to visit them in order to teach them the canonical invocations. He arrived on the island, told the hermits that their heavenly petition was undignified, and taught them many of the customary prayers. The bishop then left on a boat. He saw, following the ship, a radiant light. As it approached he discerned the three hermits, who were holding hands and running upon the waves in an effort to overtake the vessel. ‘We have forgotten the prayers you taught us,' they cried as they reached the bishop, 'and have hastened to ask you to repeat them. ' The awed bishop shook his head. "'Dear ones,' he replied humbly, 'continue to live with your old prayer!"
And now for the full story as it is found in Tolstoy. It is based on an old legend from the Volga district of Russia, though the provenance of that legend is unknown; we should certainly leave open the possibility that it was borrowed.


LEO TOLSTOY'S "THE THREE HERMITS"
'And in praying use not vain repetitions, as the Gentiles do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask Him.' --Matt. vi. 7, 8.
A Bishop was sailing from Archangel to the solovetsk Monastery; and on the same vessel were a number of pilgrims on their way to visit the shrines at that place. The voyage was a smooth one. The wind favourable, and the weather fair. The pilgrims lay on deck, eating, or sat in groups talking to one another. The Bishop, too, came on deck, and as he was pacing up and down, he noticed a group of men standing near the prow and listening to a fisherman who was pointing to the sea and telling them something. The Bishop stopped, and looked in the direction in which the man was pointing. He could see nothing however, but the sea glistening in the sunshine. He drew nearer to listen, but when the man saw him, he took off his cap and was silent. The rest of the people also took off their caps, and bowed.
'Do not let me disturb you, friends,' said the Bishop. 'I came to hear what this good man was saying.'
'The fisherman was telling us about the hermits,' replied one, a tradesman, rather bolder than the rest.
'What hermits?' asked the Bishop, going to the side of the vessel and seating himself on a box. 'Tell me about them. I should like to hear. What were you pointing at?'
'Why, that little island you can just see over there,' answered the man, pointing to a spot ahead and a little to the right. 'That is the island where the hermits live for the salvation
of their souls.'
'Where is the island?' asked the Bishop. 'I see nothing.'
'There, in the distance, if you will please look along my hand. Do you see that little cloud? Below it and a bit to the left, there is just a faint streak. That is the island.'
The Bishop looked carefully, but his unaccustomed eyes could make out nothing but the water shimmering in the sun.
'I cannot see it,' he said. 'But who are the hermits that live there?'
'They are holy men,' answered the fisherman. 'I had long heard tell of them, but never chanced to see them myself till the year before last.'
And the fisherman related how once, when he was out fishing, he had been stranded at

night upon that island, not knowing where he was. In the morning, as he wandered about the island, he came across an earth hut, and met an old man standing near it. Presently two others came out, and after having fed hin1, and dried his things, they helped him mend his boat.
'And what are they like?' asked the Bishop.
'One is a small man and his back is bent. He wears a priest's cassock and is very old; he must be more than a hundred, I should say. He is so old that the white of his beard is taking a greenish tinge, but he is always smiling, and his face is as bright as an angel's from heaven. The second is taller, but he also is very old. He wears tattered, peasant coat. His beard is broad, and of a yellowish grey colour. He is a strong man. Before I had time to help hin1, he turned my boat over as if it were only a pail. He too, is kindly and cheerful. The third is tall, and has a beard as white as snow and reaching to his knees. He is stem, with over-hanging eyebrows; and he wears nothing but a mat tied round his waist;'
'And did they speak to you?' asked the Bishop.
'For the most part they did everything in silence and spoke but little even to one another. One of them would just give a glance, and .the others would understand him. I asked the tallest whether they had lived there long. He frowned, and muttered something as if he were angry; but the oldest one took his hand and smiled, and then the tall one was quiet. The oldest one only said: "Have mercy upon us," and smiled.'
While the fisherman was talking, the ship had drawn nearer to the island.
'There, now you can see it plainly, if your Grace will please to look,' said the tradesman, pointing with his hand.
The Bishop looked, and now he really saw a dark streak --which was the island. Having looked at it a while, he left the prow of the vessel, and going to the stern, asked the helmsman:
'What island is that?' 'That one,' replied the man, 'has no name. There are many such in this sea.' 'Is it true that there are hermits who live there for the salvation of their souls?' 'So it is said, your Grace, but I don't know if it's true. Fishermen say they have seen
them; but of course they may only be spinning yarns.'
'I should like to land on the island and see these men,' said the Bishop. 'How could I manage it?'

'The ship cannot get close to the island,' replied the helmsman, 'but you might be rowed there in a boat. You had better speak to the captain.'
The captain was sent for and came. 'I should like to see these hermits,' said the Bishop. 'Could I not be rowed ashore?' The captain tried to dissuade him. 'Of course it could be done,' said he, 'but we should lose much time. And if I might venture to say so to your Grace, the old men are not worth your pains. I have heard say that they are foolish old fellows, who understand nothing, and never speak a word, any more than the fish in the sea. ,
'I wish to see them,' said the Bishop, 'and I will pay you' for your trouble and loss of time. Please let me have a boat.'
There was no help for it; so the order was given. The sailors trimmed the sails, the steersman put up the helm, and the ship's course was set for the island. A chair was placed at the prow for the Bishop, and he sat there, looking ahead. The passengers all collected at the prow, and gazed at the island. Those who had the sharpest eyes could presently make out the rocks on it, and then a mud hut was seen. At last one man saw the hermits themselves. The captain brought a telescope and, after looking through it, handed it to the Bishop.
'It's right enough. There are three men standing on the shore. There, a little to the right of that big rock. ,
The Bishop took the telescope, got it into position, and he saw the three men: a tall one, a shorter one, and one very small and bent, standing on the shore and holding each other by the hand.
The captain turned to the Bishop.
'The vessel can get no nearer in than this, your Grace. If you wish to go ashore, we must ask you to go in the boat, while we anchor here.'
The cable was quickly let out, the anchor cast, and the sails furled. There was a jerk, and the vessel shook. Then a boat having been lowered the oarsmen jumped in, and the Bishop descended the ladder and took his seat. The men pulled at their oars, and the boat moved rapidly towards the island. When they came within a stone's throw they saw three old men: a tall one with only a mat tied round his waist: a shorter one in a tattered peasant coat, and a very old one bent with age and wearing an old cassock --all three standing hand in hand.

The oarsmen pulled in to the shore, and held on with the boathook while the Bishop got out.
The old men bowed to him, and he gave them his benediction, at which they bowed still lower. Then the Bishop began to speak to them.
'I have heard,' he said, 'that you, godly men, live here saving your own souls, and praying to our Lord Christ for your fellow men. I, an unworthy servant of Christ, am called, by God's mercy, to keep and teach His flock. I wished to see you, servants of God, and to do what I can to teach you, also.'
The old men looked at each other smiling, but remained silent.
'Tell me,' said the Bishop, 'what you are doing to save your souls, and how you serve God on this island.' .
The second hermit sighed, and looked at the oldest, the very ancient one. The latter smiled, and said:
'We do not know how to serve God. We only serve and support ourselves, servant of God.'
'But how do you pray to God?' asked the Bishop.
'We pray in this way,' replied the hermit. 'Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us.'
And when the old man said this, all three raised their eyes to heaven, and repeated: 'Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us!' The Bishop smiled. You have evidently heard something about the Holy Trinity,' said he. 'But you do not pray aright. You have won my affection, godly men. I see you wish to please the Lord, but you do not know how to serve Him. That is not the way to pray; but listen to me, and I will teach you. I will teach you, not a way of my own, but the way in which God in the Holy Scriptures has commanded all men to pray to Him.
And the Bishop began explaining to the hermits how God had revealed Himself to men; telling them of God the Father, and God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.
'God the Son came down on earth, , said he, 'to save men, and this is how He taught us an to pray. Listen and repeat after me: "Our Father."'

And the first old man repeated after hjm, 'Our Father,' and the second said, 'Our Father,' and the third said, 'Our Father.'
Which art in heaven,' continued the Bishop.
The first hermit repeated, 'Which art in heaven,' but the second blundered over the words, and the tall hermit could not say them properly. His hair had grown over his mouth so that he could not speak plainly. The very old hermit, having no teeth, also mumbled indistinctly.
The Bishop repeated the words again, and the old men repeated them after him. The Bishop sat down on a stone, and the old men stood before him, watching his mouth, and repeating the words as he uttered them. And all day long the Bishop laboured, saying a word twenty, thirty, a hundred times over, and the old men repeated it after him. They blundered, and he corrected them, and made them begin again.
The Bishop did not leave off till he had taught them the whole of the Lord's prayer so that they could not only repeat it after him, but could say it by themselves. The middle one was the first to know it, and to repeat the whole of it alone. The Bishop made him say it again and again, and at last the others could say it too.
It was getting dark, and the moon was appearing over the water, before the Bishop rose to return to the vessel. When he took leave of the old men, they all bowed down to the ground before him. He raised them, and kissed each of them, telling them to pray as he had taught them. Then he got into the boat and returned to the ship.
And as he sat in the boat and was rowed to the ship he could hear the three voices of the hermits loudly repeating the Lord's prayer. As the boat drew near the vessel their voices could no longer be heard, but they could still be seen in the moonlight, standing as he had left them on the shore, the shortest in the middle, the tallest on the right, the middle one on the left. As soon as the Bishop had reached the vessel and got on board, the anchor was weighed and the sails unfurled. The wind filled them, and the ship sailed away, and the Bishop took a seat in the stem and watched the island they had left. For a time he could still see the hermits, but presently they disappeared from sight, though the island was still visible. At last it too vanished, and only the sea was to be seen rippling in the moonlight.
The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and all was quiet on deck. The Bishop did not wish to sleep, but sat alone at the stem, gazing at the sea where the island was no longer visible, and thinking of the good old men. He thought how pleased they had been to learn the Lord's prayer; and he thanked God for having sent him to teach and help such godly men.
So the Bishop sat, thinking, and gazing at the sea where the island had disappeared.


And the moonlight flickered before his eyes, sparkling, now here, now there, upon the waves. Suddenly he saw something white and shining, on the bright path which the moon cast across the sea. Was it a seagull, or the little gleaming sail of some small boat? The Bishop fixed his eyes on it, wondering.
'It must be a boat sailing after us,' thought he 'but it is overtaking us very rapidly. It was far, far away a minute ago, but now it is much nearer. It cannot be a boat, for I can see no sail; but whatever it may be, it is following us, and catching us up.'
And he could not make out what it was. Not a boat, nor a bird, nor a fish! It was too large for a man, and besides a man could not be out there in the midst of the sea. The Bishop rose, and said to the helmsman:
'Look there, what is that, my friend? What is it?' the Bishop repeated, though he could now see plainly what it was -- the three hermits running upon the water, all gleaming white, their grey beards shining, and approaching the ship as quickly as though it were not morning.
The steersman looked and let go the helm in terror. 'Oh Lord! The hermits are running after us on, the water as though it were dry land!' The passengers hearing him, jumped up, and crowded to the stem. They saw the hermits coming along hand in hand, and the two outer ones beckoning the ship to stop. All three were gliding along upon the water without moving their feet. Before the ship could be stopped, the hermits had reached it, and raising their heads, all three as with one voice, began to say:
'We have forgotten your teaching, servant of God. As long as we kept repeating it we remembered, but when we stopped saying it for a time, a word dropped out, and now it has all gone to pieces. We can remember nothing of it. Teach us again.'
The Bishop crossed himself, and leaning over the ship's side, said:
'Your own prayer will reach the Lord, men of God. It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us sinners.
And the Bishop bowed low before the old men; and they turned and went back across the sea. And a light shone until daybreak on the spot where they were lost to sight.
Leo Tolstoy ...1866
e. The Praying Shepherd --Another Jewish Version (Hasidic)
Now we come to a new twist on our story, and here we should recall Rumi's version where Moses chastises a simple shepherd, is chastened by God, and learns a valuable lesson. Here it is the Baal Shem Tov (founder of Hasidism) who learns the
important lesson from a shepherd named Moses (!), the lesson being once again that the "service of the heart" --nay, even fervent to the verge of fanatical devotion --is more dear than even strict piety (which we may safely assume the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples practiced). The difference here is that the Baal Shem Tov is at the outset made cognizant by "heaven" of the fact that this simple shepherd Moses served God better than he -- he does not first try to correct the shepherd, as happens in the other stories. Furthermore, finally here we have a story tells us outright that the shepherd had greater devotion to God even than the master himself, the Baal Shem Tov, something that is only suggested but not clearly stated in the other versions discussed thus far.
The Baal Shem Tov was once shown from heaven that a certain shepherd named Moshe served God better than he did. He longed to meet this shepherd; so he ordered his horses harnessed to his coach and traveled; with a few of his disciples, to the place where he was told the shepherd lived
They stopped in a field at a foot of a hill and saw above on the
hillside a shepherd who was blowing his horn to call his flock. After the sheep gathered to him, the shepherd led them to a nearby trough
to water them. While they were drinking, he looked up to heaven and began to call out in a loud voice, " Master of the world, You are so great! You created heaven and earth and everything else! I'm a
simple man, ignorant and unlearned, and don't know how to serve
You or to praise You. I was orphaned as a child and raised among
gentiles, so I never learned any Torah. But I have a shepherd's horn that I can blow on like a shofar. I'll blow on it with all my strength, to proclaim, 'The Lord is God! ' " After blowing with all his might on the horn, he collapsed on the ground; without an ounce of energy, and lay there motionless until his strength returned.
Then he began again and said; "Master of the world, I'm just a simple shepherd; I don't know any Torah, and I don't know how to




pray. What can I do for You? The only thing I know is to sing shepherd's songs. " He immediately began to sing loudly and fervently with all his strength until, again, he fell to the earth exhausted; without an ounce of energy.
After recovering, he began again and called out, " Master of the world! What is it worth that I blew on my horn and sang songs for You, when You're so great? What more can I do to serve You? " He paused for a moment and said; "There's something else I know how to do, and I'll do it for Your honor and Your glory!" He then stood on his head and began to wave his feet wildly in the air. Then he did somersaults one after the other until he collapsed on the ground exhausted. The Baal Shem Tov and his disciples watched all this from a distance in amazement.
The shepherd lay there silently until his strength returned. Then he began to speak again and said; " Master of the world; I've done what I can, but I know it's not enough! What more can I do to serve You? " After pausing to reflect, he said, "Yesterday the lord who owns the flock made a feast for his servants, and when it ended; he gave each of us a silver coin as a gift. I'm giving that coin to You as a gift, O God; because You created everything and feed all creatures, including me, Moshe, the humble shepherd! " Saying this, he threw the coin upward At that moment, the Baal Shem Tov saw a hand reach out from heaven to receive the coin.
He said to his disciples, "This shepherd has taught me how to fulfill the verse: ‘And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and will all your might.’


We may at this point want to pause and consider whether it is Moses’ ascetic contortions and gymnastics which are praiseworthy here, or whether it is rather the poor shepherd’s innocence and genuine desire to serve God in any way he can (with his “heart, soul, and might”) which is most precious in God’s eyes? If the latter, why does the shepherd need to go through all of his somersaulting and so on? Why is it not sufficient to simply do his shepherding and provide for his family, remembering God all the while? The point may be that the shepherd is lauded for doing both – he does not need to engage in ascetic practice, yet he does it anyway. Like a true hasid, he devotedly goes above and beyond the call of duty. The following parallel story from the Hindu tradition, somewhat more reservedly, makes the point that one need do only one’s duty (dharma) in life and remember God when one can to be considered a great devotee.

el. A Similar Story from the Hindu Tradition
The following is a similar story from Hindu Puranas (ancient collections of law and lore), the main difference being that the sage Narada, who is actually a demigod or semi-divine being, is quite resistant to being told that there is a greater devotee (Skt. bhakta) than he. After all, he chants and sings the Lord's all day long, who can best that? Another difference is that it is not merely sincere devotion and service to God that is here being lauded, but selfless service (karma, seva) and remembrance of God together. Narada has the luxury of sitting around all day in heaven without having to worry about feeding a family, etc., and thus he has time to sing God's praises. It’s much more difficult, this story tells us, to "multi-task" --do work with full concentration and remember God at the same time.
Sage Narada thought that he was a great devotee.
Once Lord Krishna said, “'Narada, there is one farmer on earth who is a greater devotee than you. Narada doubted this and came down to earth to see the peasant in person. He found that the farmer would chant the Lord's Name only three times a day. "How could he be a greater devotee than I? " thought Narada. Upon returning, he mentioned his doubt to the Lord. The Lord gave him a small vessel filled to the brim with oil and asked Narada to keep it on his head and go round a particular hill without spilling even a drop of it.
When Narada returned after finishing the round, the Lord asked, "How many times did you chant My Name in between?" Narada thought and was surprised to discover that he had not remembered the Lord's Name even once because his attention had been fully concentrated on keeping the vessel of oil steady so as not to spill it. The Lord smilingly said, "Now do you understand what a great devotee that farmer is? Even in the midst of his toilsome work, thrice he is remembering Me, is he not? " "Children, one who simultaneously does karma (action) and remembers God is the noblest.












e2. A Variation on the Narada Story

I and my Father are One.


Once upon a time the sage Narada was passing through a town and stopped to buy some supplies from a merchant. The merchant seemed very friendly and they began a conversation. Soon Narada was invited to have supper with the merchant and his wife. Narada accepted happily and accompanied the merchant to his house.
They had a wonderful meal, but Narada noticed that he became sad after eating the food cooked by the merchant’s wife. After they had finished, Narada asked the merchant, “Why is your wife sad?”
“How did you know that?” asked the startled merchant.
“Because normally after eating such delicious food I feel great joy. But I can feel a sadness in this food.”
The merchant and his wife exchanged glances. “You truly are a great sage,” said the merchant. “You are right; we are both said. We have been unable to have children. We have tried everything – doctors, tantrikas, astrologers, even saints – but nothing seems to work.”
“Do you have your horoscopes?” asked Narada.
“Yes,” said the merchant, who brought out tow horoscopes done by a great astrologer and handed them to Narada. “You are the most learned scholar of this science. Won’t you please figure out a way for us to have a child?”
Narada studied the horoscopes. Then he studied the palms of the two. “I am sorry,” he said at last. “It seems that you are not destined to have any children.” He thanked the couple for the meal and left the house, feeling very sad.
Narada went to Vaikuntha, the abode of Lord Vishnu, and said to Vishnu, “Lord, I have just visited a couple who are very kind and who follow their dharma most sincerely, yet they cannot beget a child. Is there no way to change this?”
“Vishnu looked down on Narada and said, “Narada, you know as well as I do that there is no changing the law of karma. What is, is. Everyone gets what they deserve. Life is a series of countless incarnations, and just because one is good in this life does not mean one shall be rewarded in it, or that one was good in a previous life. I cannot interfere in this matter.”
Narada left Vaikuntha, still sad. One day years later he was passing through the same town and sought out the merchant. The merchant seemed very happy and invited Narada to supper once again. Narada accepted, though he expected it would be a sad occasion.
When he arrived at the house Narada saw three beautiful children playing outside. “Whose children are these?” he asked.
“Ours,” beamed the merchant.
“Yours?”
“Yes. Soon after you left our house a hungry saint visited our town and announced, ‘Whosoever gives this hungry man one loaf of breatd will get one child, towo loaves will get two children, and threee loaves will get tree children.’ My wife and I heard him, and though we knew it was not our destiny to have children, we took pity on hjim, brought him back to our house, and gave him bread. He ate thee loaves and said, ‘I bless you to have three beautiful children.’ W thought he was just a crazy saint, but you can see what happened.”
Narada finished another delectable meal with the merchant and his wife, blessed their children, and too hi leave. He was very happy for them, but also very confused. He went to Vaikuntha once again and said to Vishnu, “Lord, I have just visited with the unfortunate merchant and his wife, whom you told me were not destined to have children –“
“And they have three,” said Vishnu.
“But their horoscopes and their palms…”
“It makes no difference. He was blessed by a devoted bhakta of mine. Bhaktas alone can change one’s destiny. If they promise something to someone I have to grant it.”
“But why?”
“I will answer your question momentarily. But your mind is too agitated to absorb any wisdom now. Let us take a walk while you calm yourself.”
Narada and Vishnu took a walk near a village. It was sunset and people were offering their evening prayers. In a nearby temple bells were ringing and a mantra was being chanted. Narada waited for his mind to calm, but he still dwelled on why a bhakta had powers that he himself did not.
Suddenly Vishnu cried out in pain and slumped to the ground, holding his side.
“What is wrong, my lord?” shouted Narada.
“My liver is ruined! Some devotees of mine offered me sweets cooked in rancid oil. I need someone to give me their liver as soon as possible!”
“Yes, my lord,” said Narada, and he ran to the temple. “Is there someone who will donated his liver to Lord Vishnu?” Narada shouted. “He is sick and may die without one.” But everyone in the temple laughed at him. “I am not crazy! I am Narada; you must have heard of my name.” But everyone thought he was crazy and they continued ringing bells and chanting mantras.
Narada ran to a group of beggars gathered near a creek and asked if any would donate their liver to Vishnu. Again no one would. “try him,” they said, pointing at a beggar who was standing in the creek on one leg, chanting a mantra with his eyes closed. “He’s the only one crazy enough to do something like that.”
Narada waded into the creek and asked the crazy-looking beggar, “Brother, Lord Vishnu is sick and needs a liver immediately. Will you donate yours?”
The beggar stopped chanting and opened his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “Come to my hut.” He lowered his other leg and began walking. Narada followed him to his hut. There the man picked up a knife and sat down in the lotus posture. He meditated for a while and them, taking a deep breath, he stabbed the knife into his side and cut a large opening. Blood flowed down over his legs. He sawed in a circle, with no expression on his face, and then he removed his liver and handed it to Narada. “I hope this helps Lord Vishnu,” said the beggar, who then closed his eyes and went in to a trance, blood pouring out of his side.
Narada rushed back to Vishnu with the fresh, bleeding liver. When he got there Vishnu was sitting comfortably in a lotus posture.
“Here, my lord,” said Narada, “a fresh liver!”
“Where did you find it?” asked Vishnu.
“A crazy beggar gave it to me. Everyone else ignored me.”
“Why did you run to so many people when you yourself had one to offer so close at hand?”
Narada stopped short. He had nothing to say.
“Do you think that your life is more important than mine?”
“Certainly not, my lord. I –“
“Perhaps you forgot that you had a liver?”
“Of course not, my lord. It simply…never occurred to me.”
“Sacrificing your own life was the farthest thing from your mind.”
Narada lowered his head. “You are right, my lord. I am sorry.”
Vishnu laughed and said, “Narada, you are undoubtedly a great devotee of mine, but you are not crazy enough to offer me your own liver. You are a great scholar and your knowledge prevents you from having the craziness of a bhakta. The man who gave you his liver is my true devotee, a true bhakta who cares not for his own life. He only had to hear form you that I was in pain. He did not ask any questions, he didn’t ask you your identity, he simply acted with the pure devotion of divine love. He is also the same beggar who gave the three sons to the merchant and his wife. I am bound by the chains of such pure love, and must act as one with such bhaktas. Their promises become my promises.”
As Narada watched, Vishnu took on the countenance of the beggar and spoke again. “Knowledge and austerity purify the mind, but only the craziness of a bhakta can connect one to me. I and my bhakta are one.” And Vishnu ascended to Vaikuntha, leaving Narada in the deepest state of meditation he had ever known.


f. The Praying Shepherd --A Final Jewish Version
While this last version of the praying shepherd story does not fit the general scheme outlined above, it is yet relevant to our study. It is a well-known tale told about the Baal Shem Tov, who emphasized the power of love and joy in worship over and above even great learning and strict observance of the law. Not that learning and orthodoxy were not highly valued by the Hasidic community, but an even higher premium was placed on pure devotion.
A villager, who year after year prayed in the Baal Shem 's House of Prayer in the Days of Awe, had a son who was so dull-witted that he could not even grasp the shapes of the letters, let alone the
meaning of the holy words. On the Days of Awe his father did not
take him to town with him, because he did not understand anything. But when he was thirteen and of age according to the laws of God;
his father took him along on the Day of Atonement, for fear the boy might eat on the fast-day simply because he did not know any better.
Now the boy had a small whistle which he always blew when he sat out in the fields to herd the sheep and the calves. He had taken this with him in the pocket of his smock and his father had not
noticed it. Hour after hour, the boy sat in the House of Prayer and had nothing to say. But when the Additional Service commenced; he said: "Father, I have my little whistle with me. I want to sing on it. " The father was greatly perturbed and told him to do no such thing,
and the boy restrained himself But when the Afternoon Service was
begun, he said again: "Father, do let me blow my little whistle. " The father became angry and said: "Where did you put it? " And when
the boy told him, he laid his hand on his pocket so that the boy could not take it out. But now the Closing Prayer began. The boy snatched his pocket away from his father's hand; took out the whistle and blew a loud note. All were frightened and confused. But the Baal Shem went on with the prayer, only more quickly and easily than usual. Later he said: "The boy made things easy for me.








Appendix A –The Praying Shepherd: A Counter-example from the Zohar
The Zohar contains a final twist on the praying shepherd story, though whether it
intentionally alludes to the earlier version in Sefer Hasidim or some variation thereof is uncertain. Here a mountain man, coming down after many years to live among men, arrogantly asserts that because he has eaten raw wheat kernels all his life, he is the "master of wheat" and has no need of the luxurious delicacies that can be made from wheat. This is comparable to the idea that all God wants or expects of a human being is a "good heart," which on this view is deemed to be the essence of religious faith. The Zohar suggests that just knowing the essence of the Torah (the "Sod') without also exploring its other levels, however more superficial or superfluous they may seem to be, is to miss something of the spice of life.

A parable:
There was a man who lived in the mountains. He knew nothing about those who lived in the city. He sowed wheat and ate the kernels raw.
One day he entered the city. They brought him good bread. He said; "What is this for? " They said; "Bread, to eat!"
He ate, and it tasted very good He said; " What is it made of?"
They said; "Wheat. "
Later they brought him cakes kneaded in oil. He tasted them and said; "What are these made of? " They said; "Wheat. "
Finally they brought him royal pastry made with honey and oil.
He said; "And what are these made of? " They said; "Wheat. "
He said; " I am the master of all of these, for I eat the essence of all of these: wheat!"
Because of that view, he knew nothing of the delights of the world,they were lost to him. So it is with one who grasps the principle and does not know all those delectable delights deriving, diverging from that principle.
APPENDIX B: ANOTHER VERSION OF RUMI’S
“MOSES AND THE SHEPHERD”

There was once a free-spirited shepherd who possessed neither money nor the desire for it. All he had was a pure and kind heart, a heart that beat with the love of his Lord. All day long he wandered with his flock through pastures, plains, and fields, singing and talking all the while to his Beloved God: “O dear Lord, where are You to Whom I dedicate my life? Where are You for Whom I am but a servant? O God, for Whom I live and breathe, by Whose grace I exist, I would sacrifice my sheep for the sight of You...”
One day Musa -- the prophet Moses -- was passing by a pasture on his way to the city. He noticed the shepherd, who was sitting by his flock with his face tilted up to the sky, addressing God: “Where are You so that I may sew Your clothes, mend Your socks, and make Your bed? Where are You so that I may comb Your hair and kiss Your feet? Where are You so that I may polish Your shoes and bring You milk to drink?”
Musa approached the shepherd and asked him, “Whom are you talking to?”
“To the One who has created us. The One who is Lord over day and night, earth and sky.”
Musa became enraged with the shepherd’s reply. “How dare you talk to God like that! What you are saying is blasphemous. You should stuff cotton in your mouth if you cannot control your tongue. Then, at least, no one would hear your outrageous, insulting words, which have poisoned the very atmosphere. You must stop speaking like that at once, lest the Almighty punish the entire human race for your sin!”
The shepherd, who had arisen upon recognizing the prophet, stood shaken. With tears running down his cheek, he listened as Musa continued: ‘Is the Almighty God a mere human being that He should wear shoes and socks? Is He an unformed infant in need of milk to make Him grow? Of course not! God is complete in Himself, needless of all. By speaking with the Lord as you have done, you disgrace not only yourself but all the rest of God’s creatures. You are naught but a defier of religion and an enemy of God! Go and ask for forgiveness, if you have any sense left!”
The simple shepherd did not really understand what he had said to God that was so rude, or why the prophet had called him an enemy. Yet he knew that a prophet of God must know better than anyone else. Barely able to contain his sobs, he told Musa, “You have set fire to my soul. From now on my mouth is sealed!” With a deep sigh, he turned away from his flock and walked toward the desert.
Feeling proud that he had corrected a wayward soul, Musa was continuing on his way toward the city when the almighty addressed him: “Why did you come between Us and Our loyal servant? Why did you separate the lover form the Beloved? We have sent you so that you could unite one to the other, not break their ties.” Musa listened to the Heavenly Words in awe and humility.
“We did not create this world in order to profit form it; Creation is for the benefit of the creatures. We have no need of praise or worship; it is the worshipers who benefit form it. Remember that in Love, words are only the outer husk and mean nothing. We pay no heed to the beauty of the phrase or the composition of the sentence. We look only at the inner condition of the heart. In that way We know the sincerity of Our creatures, even though their words may be artless. For those who burn with Love have burned their words as well.”
The voice from Heaven continued: “Those who are bound by propriety are not like those who are bound in Love, and the nation of religion is not the nation of Love, for the lover knows no other religion that the Beloved Himself.”
The Lord thus taught Musa the secrets of Love, and now that he understood his mistake, the prophet regretted his outburst. And so he hurried off to find the shepherd and apologize.
For days Musa wandered over grassland and desert, asking people if they had seen the shepherd. Each one pointed in a different direction. It seemed a hopeless quest, but finally Musa came upon the shepherd sitting by a spring, his clothes torn and disheveled. He was in a state of deep meditation and did not notice Musa, who waited a long while. At last the shepherd lifted his head and looked at the prophet.
“I have an important message for you,” said Musa. “God has spoken, and He told me that there is no need for etiquette in your speech to God. You are free to talk to him in any way you like, with any words you may choose. For what I thought was your blasphemy is actually the faith and love that saves the world.”
The shepherd answered simply: “I have passed the stage of words and phrases. My heart is now illuminated with His presence. I cannot explain my state to you. Nor can words describe it for others.” He then rose and started on his way.
Musa watched the departing figure of the shepherd until he could see it no more. Then he set out on the road to the nearest city, marveling at the lesson he had received from a simple, unlettered worshiper.
Appendix C --Other Versions of the Narada Story

Everything has to be done systematically, gradually. Gradually you will increase your capacity. Eventually you will be able to meditate for eight hours or ten hours at a stretch, but right now it is not necessary. When it is time you will be able to do it. There are many stories about how aspirants get better results when they meditate soulfully and are not concerned about the number of hours. I wish to tell one story:
Narada came back to Vishnu and said; "How can you say that that farmer is your dearest disciple? He repeats your name only three times in the morning, three times at noon, and three times at night? I repeat your name thousands and thousands of times during the day, and I have been doing it for so many years! How many years I have been praying to you, meditating on you, and chanting your name to inspire people!"
Vishnu said; "Wonderful, Narada. Now, 1 am thirsty. Please bring me a glass of water from the nearest pond." Narada went to fetch water for Vishnu, and there in the pond he saw a beautiful girl swimming. Narada fell in love with the girl and forgot to bring water for his Master. He married the girl and started a new life. They had a few children and in this way, many years passed. Then there was famine in the place where Narada was living and all his children died; and his wife died also. He was crying to relieve his suffering, "0, Lord Vishnu, save me, save me! " Vishnu came to him and said; "What about my glass of water? " and brought him back to reality.
Vishnu said; "It is just a minor thing to bring me a glass of water. But in the world of ignorance and illusion you lost all your devotion, aspiration, spirituality, everything. Now look at this farmer. He has such a big family; every day he is shouldering such heavy responsibilities, but even then he has the time to think of me, to meditate on me. I gave him his work of cultivating the fields; I gave him the responsibility of supporting a family. He discharges all his family responsibilities, but still he has time to think of me and meditate on me. But when I gave you something to do, you immediately forgot me. "
From this story we come to realise that it is not how many hours you meditate but how soulfully you meditate that is important. To come back to your question, I wish to say that if aspiration is really intense, i/God really comes first in the aspirant's life, then he can easily adjust his outer life to make time to meditate. He can change his outer circumstances. The inner aspiration has infinitely more power than the outer obstacles. If one utilises one's inner strength, then circumstances have to surrender to inner aspiration. If you really want to meditate four times a day, then I wish to tell you that your inner aspiration will give you the power to meditate four times. Outer obstacles can easily be overcome, because the inner life is the living expression of our infinite Power. Before the infinite Power, outer obstacles have to surrender.

In the Puranas, there is a story about the divine bard; Narada. He found Lord Vishnu being so much concerned about a poor farmer in a remote village that he paused for a while during his conversation with Narada. Narada asked how the farmer who remembered the Lord only twice a day (when he got up in the morning and when he retired to bed at night) had been preferred to himself who was chanting the name of the Lord throughout day and night all through his life.
Lord Vishnu gave him an oil lamp with a burning wick and asked him to circumambulate the Lord three times taking care to see that the light did not go out at any stage. This Narada did and enquired Lord Vishnu what this had to do with his question. Lord Vishnu asked Narada, “What was the thought uppermost in your mind when you did the circum-ambulation?”
Narada replied - "Because you asked me to take care of the light, all my attention was focused on protecting the light from being put out by a gust of winds by enclosing the lamp with the palm of my hands.”
Lord Vishnu explained that in spite of being poor and in spite of his struggle for subsistence and In spite of all his worries and anxieties, the farmer could spare only a few moments twice a day to remember the Lord But, during those moments the intensity of his devotion was really great. Narada whose only preoccupation was "Nama samkeerthanam” (chanting the names of the Lord) could not concentrate on the Lord since his attention was diverted to the lamp. This shows that the intensity of Bhakti is more important than routine "Nama smarana". (Remembering the names of the Lord)

II. Everything Happens For the Best
The next group of stories deal with the subject of theodicy, which is how humans justify God's mysterious and seemingly amoral, even immoral ways. The first, from the Babylonian Talmud, tells how the saintly sage Rabbi Akiva transforms what appears to be ill-luck into good fortune through the power of reasoned faith:

We learned in the name of Rabbi Akiva, " A person should always be in the habit of saying, 'Everything that the Merciful One does is for the good' "For instance, when Rabbi Akiva was traveling on the road, he came to a certain town and decided to spend the night there. When no one would take him in, he said to himself, "Everything that the Merciful One does is for the good.”
He went and slept in the forest. He had with him a rooster, a donkey, and a candle. The wind came and blew out the candle, a wildcat came and ate the rooster, and a lion came and ate the donkey. He said, “Everything that the Merciful One does is for the good.”
That night soldiers came and captured the whole town. He said to them (his talmidim), "Didn't I tell you, everything that the Merciful One does is for the good.” That night
soldiers came and captured the whole town. [If the candle had been lit, the soldiers would have seen me, and if the donkey had brayed or the rooster crowed; the soldiers would have come and captured me - Rashi.] (BT BERACHOS 6Ob)
You will note here that the term used for God is "the Merciful One," or in Aramaic "Rachmana," which was the same term used to refer to God in the "Praying Shepherd" stories (" Rachmana Libba Ba' e"). This is not coincidental and no doubt is used to express the quality of God's sheltering protection at all times of His/Her creatures, but particularly His devoted ones, as with the next story.

b. Everything Is For the Good --Another Jewish Version
The following is the slightly more well-known legend from the lesser known teacher of Rabbi Akiba, Nachum Ish Gamzu. The Talmud suggests that Nachum Ish Gamzu was a man of great faith for whom miracles were commonplace, and one is led to wonder whether those of middling (beinoni) devotion could with perfect faith say, like Nachum, "This, too, is for the good." Or is the Talmud suggesting that if we all had such faith in God as Nachum, we too would merit the same results?

Why was Nachum Ish Gamzu called by this name? Because on everything that happened to him he said; "Gam zo l'tovah," "This too is for the good" (therefore he was called Nachum, the man of "This too.”
Once, the Jews wanted to send a present to the Caesar. They asked themselves who should go to deliver it for them. They decide to send Nachum Ish Gamzu, because he was used to miracles. They sent him with a chest full of precious jewels and pearls. As he was traveling, he stayed at a certain inn. That night the innkeepers got up, emptied out the chest, and filled it up with dirt. The next day, when he saw this, he said; "This too is for the good.”
When he arrived at the palace of the Caesar, he opened the chest. Seeing that it was filled with dirt, the Caesar wanted to kill all the Jews. He said; "The Jews are making fun of me.” Nachum said, "This too is for the good.” Eliyahu Ha-Navi came disguised as one of the courtiers. He said to the Caesar, "Perhaps this is the dirt that Avraham their father used. When he threw it, the dirt turned into swords and the straw turned into arrows.”
There was one country that the Caesar was unable to conquer. He went and tried out the dirt there and it enabled him to conquer them. He came back to the palace and went into his treasure-house and filled the chest with precious jewels and pearls and sent Nachum back home with great honor. On the way back he again stayed over in that inn. They asked him, "What happened to you, that they honored you so much?” He answered them, "What I took from here I brought to them.” Consequently, the innkeepers tore down their whole inn and brought the dirt to the Caesar. They said; "That dirt that Nachum brought you was from us.” They tried it out
and it didn't work; so they executed the innkeeper.
(BT TA’ANIT 21a)
c. Everything happens for the best --A Hindu Version
The following Hindu tale is quite similar in structure to the stories just presented from the Talmud, the main difference being that here we are not dealing with a great sage or saint, but rather a king, and one with a bad temper. Nevertheless, like Rabbi Akiba and Nachum Ish Gamzu, things still indeed do work out for the best for the irascible king. One could say that the king's minister in this story is a sage just like the Akiba and Nachum for whom miracles are done, and that is true enough; yet the story is still more about the king's realization about how the divine works all things for the best -- regardless of one's attainment or station in life.

Once upon a time in ancient India lived a King and his advisor. The King was a just King but had a temper. His
Minister was very wise, and loyal to the King. He would often say, "Everything happens for the best. "
One day the King accidentally got a paper cut. The
Minister happened to explain, "Everything happens for the best." Because the King was in pain, he became angry and threw his Minister in prison.
That very day was their routine hunting trip to the Jungle.
The King and Minister always went hunting together. This time since the Minister was in jail the King went by himself. As the King was hunting he was captured by a tribe in the jungle. They were looking for someone to sacrifice for their god They were just about to kill the King as a sacrifice when their priest noticed he had a cut. Their tradition said not to sacrifice an injured person. So they let the King go.
When the King returned he realized the mistake he had made. He released the Minister from prison, and told the
Minister of his hunting trip and how his injury saved his life. The Minister had not been angry or upset. He just said,
"Everything happened for the best. " The King said " I agree. But surely spending a day in prison was not in your best
interest. " The Minister said " If I had gone hunting with you the tribals would have sacrificed me.
d. “Is That So?” --A Zen Version


The following story from the Zen tradition, while not conforming entirely to the general scheme of the previous three stories, nevertheless is quite similar in thrust and spirit. Here we find the Zen master Hakuin stoically accepting whatever comes to him with dispassionate equanimity, tersely saying only “Is that so?” I am suggesting that this is a kindred tale to the earlier stories of Akiba, Nachum, and the King and his minister in that in all the protagonists harbor a deep faith in divine providence (the “Master Plan”), the only difference being that “Everything is for the good/best” is here replaced with Hakuin’s “Is that so?” You will note that, for Hakuin at least, things do seem to work out “for the best.”

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life. A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.
This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.
In great anger the parents went to the master. "Is that so? " was all he would say.
After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbors and everything else the little one needed. A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth -- that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.
The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again. Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: “Is that so?”
III. THE HIDDEN TREASURE
“I was a hidden treasure and I wanted to be known,
so I created the world!” -- hadith qudsi

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also placed eternity in their hearts,
But without humanity ever discovering what God has done from the first to the last.
-- Ecclesiastes 3.11

I have chosen to entitle the following collection of stories “The Hidden Treasure,” although the title might just as well be, after Ecclesiastes, “The Hidden Treasure in the Heart,” for the unspoken message in each of these tales appears to be that the true treasure that each person seeks can only be found within oneself, in the heart. There is an old story, again whose provenance is a mystery, which tells how God desired to hide from his creation so as to remain unknown. After consulting with his angels, it was decided that the one place no one would ever think to look for God was in the human heart. God went into hiding there and the rest, as they say, is history. The following group of stories expresses something along these lines: if home is where the heart is, it is also where one’s treasure is to be found.
Another aspect of this tale which should not go unmentioned is the theme of “The Call,” in this case the call of the divine. This theme is to be found in stories and myths the world over, a prime example of course being Adonai’s call to Abraham/Avram in Genesis (12.1), “Go forth from your native land...” as well as Abraham’s later advancement in both the material and spiritual realms. However, if there is some hearkening back to the cycle of Abraham stories, whether biblical or extra-biblical, it is not readily discernible here.

a. The Hidden Treasure –Buber’s Hasidic Version
Rabbi Bunam used to tell young men who came to him for the first time the story of Rabbi Eisik, son of Rabbi Yekel in Cracow. After many years of great poverty which had never shaken his faith in God, he dreamed someone bade him look for a treasure in Prague, under the bridge which leads to the king's palace. When the dream recurred a third time, Rabbi Eisik prepared for the journey and set out for Prague. But the bridge was guard day and night and he did not dare to start digging. Nevertheless he went to the bridge every morning and kept walking around it until evening.
Finally the captain of the guards, who had been watching him, asked in a kindly way whether he was looking for something or waiting for somebody. Rabbi Eisik told him of the dream which had brought him here from a faraway country. The captain laughed: "And so to please the dream, you poor fellow wore out your shoes to come here! As for having faith in dreams, if I had had it, I should have had to get going when a dream once told me to go to Cracow and dig for treasure under the stove in the room of a Jew- Eisik, son ofYekel, that was the name! Eisik, son ofYekel! I canjust imagine what it would be like, how I should have to try every house over there, where one half of the Jews are named Eisik, and the other Yekel!" And he laughed again. Rabbi Eisik bowed, traveled home, dug up the treasure from under the stove, and built the House ofPrayer which is called "Reb Eisik's Shul."
"Take this story to heart," Rabbi Bunam used to add, "And make what is says your own: There is something you cannot find anywhere in the world, not even at the zaddik's, and there is, nevertheless, a place where you can find it."

It has been suggested that the moral of this story is not simply that one must look within one’s own heart to find truth, or God, or whatever “treasure” is sought. For clearly, it has been remarked, Reb Eisik would not have discovered where his own treasure lay hid had he not journeyed far away to a foreign land where he was given “directions” from a stranger. The late Jewish indologist Heinrich Zimmer, for one, read this as a tale quite applicable to his own life and chosen life’s work:



"Now the real treasure…is never far away; it lies buried in the inner most recess of our own home; that is to say, our own being...but there is the odd and persistent fact...that the one who reveals to us the meaning of our cryptic inner message must be a stranger, of another creed and a foreign race."

On that note, let us turn now to Dr. Zimmer’s retelling of the Hasidic version of the story just presented.
b. The Hidden Treasure: Zimmer’s Retelling of Buber’s Version
As I have already suggested, Zimmer’s reading of Buber’s Hasidic tale was no doubt at least somewhat autobiographical. As Wendy Doniger, referring to both herself and Zimmer, noted,
On some deep level, I think, all truly creative scholarship in the humanities is autobiographical, but it is particularly true that people who traffic in foreign myths are caught up in them, volens nolens. The great Indologist Henirich Zimmer retold a well- known Hasidic tale told by Martin Buber, a version of the story of the Jew among Others.

The autobiographical slant of Zimmer’s retelling will become clearer after we look at it closely:

It is a brief story, told of the Rabbi Eisik, son of Rabbi Jekel, who lived in the ghetto of Cracow, the capital of Poland. He had remained unbroken in his faith, through years of affliction, and was a pious servant of the Lord his God.
One night, as this pious and faithful Rabbi Eisik, Slept, he had a dream; the dream enjoined him to proceed, afar, to the Bohemian capital, Prague, where he should discover a hidden treasure, buried beneath the principal bridge leading to the castle of the Bohemian kings. The Rabbi was surprised, and put off his going. But the dream recurred twice again. After the third call, he bravely girded his loins and set forth on the quest.
Arriving at the city of his destiny, Rabbi Eisik discovered sentries at the bride, and these guarded it day and night; so that he did not venture to dig. He only returned every morning and loitered around until dusk, looking at the bridge, watching the sentries, studying unostentatiously the masonry and soil. At length, the captain of the guards, struck by the old man's persistence, approached, and gently inquired whether he had lost something or perhaps was waiting for someone to arrive. Rabbi Eisik recounted, simply and confidently, the dream that he had had, and the officer stood back and laughed.
"Really, you poor fellow!" the captain said: "Have you worn your shoes out wandering all this way only because of a dream? What sensible person would trust a dream? Why look, if I had been one to go trusting dreams, I should this very minute be doing just the opposite. I should have made such a pilgrimage as this silly one of yours, only in the opposite direction, but no doubt with the same result. Let me tell you my dream. "
He was a sympathetic officer, for all of his fierce mustache, and the Rabbi felt his heart warm to him. "I dreamt of a voice," said the Bohemian, Christian officer of the guard, "and it spoke to me of Cracow, commanding me to go thither and to search there for a great treasure in the house of a Jewish rabbi whose name would be Eisik son of Jekel. The treasure was to have been discovered buried in the dirty corner behind the stove. Eisik son of Jekel!" the captain laughed again, with brilliant eyes. "Fancy going to Cracow and pulling down the walls of every house in the ghetto, where half of the men are called Eisik and other half Jekel! Eisik son of Jekel, indeed!" And he laughed, and he laughed again at the wonderful joke.
The unostentatious Rabbi listened eagerly, and then, having bowed deeply and thanked his stranger-friend, he hurried straightway back to his distant home, dug in the neglected corner of his house and discovered the treasure which put an end to all his misery. With a portion of the money, he erected a prayer house that bears his name to this day.

There is really not much difference between Zimmer and Buber’s version of the story. Zimmer’s retelling merely brings out certain points that Buber’s version did not make explicit: that Eisik is a pious man, that the captain of the guard is a sympathetic man, that Eisik takes to the captain and considers him to be a kind of unknowing benefactor. All of these points could have been gleaned by a careful reading of Buber’s
tale. Zimmer does make Eisik a rabbi in his version, which is perhaps a significant change, especially if the famous indologist indeed saw something of himself in Eisik. Perhaps the most significant alteration Zimmer makes, however, is in his emphasis on how far and foreign a place this Prague is, and yet the degree to which by the end of the story Rabbi Eisik considers the captain to be his “stranger-friend.” Despite these differences, though, again there is more that is alike in the two stories than dissimilar. Especially as compared with the parallel stories from the Islamic and Hindu traditions that we will look at next, there is much more akin in the Jewish versions of these stories than to those of these other traditions. Let us turn now to them.
c. The Hidden Treasure --A Muslim Version

It is probable that the Jewish version of the “Hidden Treasure” was borrowed from medieval Arabic literature, in particular The Arabian Nights. What follows is one translation of the story that appears in that compendium of tales.

There once lived in Baghdad a rich merchant who lost all his money by spending it unwisely. He became so poor that he could love only by doing the hardest work for very little pay. One night he lay down to sleep with a heavy heart, and as he slept he heard a voice saying, 'Your fortune lies in Cairo. Go and seek it there.'
The very next morning he set out for Cairo and, after traveling many weeks and enduring much hardship on the way, arrived in that city. Night had fallen, and as he could not afford to stay at an inn, he lay down to sleep in the courtyard of a mosque.
Now, as chance would have it, a band of robbers entered the mosque and from there broke into an adjoining house. Awakened by the noise, the owners raised the alarm and shouted for help, whereupon the thieves mace off. Presently the chief of police and his men arrived on the scene and entered the mosque. Finding the merchant from Baghdad in the courtyard, they seized him and beat him with their clubs until he was nearly dead. Then they threw him into prison. Three days later, the chief of police ordered his men to bring the stranger before him.
'Where do you come from?' asked the chief . 'From Baghdad.'
' And what has brought you to Cairo ?' I heard a voice in my sleep saying, "Your fortune lies in Cairo. Go and seek it there." But when I came to Cairo, the fortune I was promised proved to the beating I received at the hands of your men.'
When he heard this, the chief of police burst out laughing. 'Know then, you fool,' he cried, 'that I, too, have heard a voice in my sleep, not just once but on three occasions. The voice said, "Go to Baghdad, and in a cobbled street lined with palm trees you will find a three-story house, with a courtyard of green marble; at the far end of the garden there is a fountain of white marble. Under the fountain a large sum of money lies buried. Go there and dig it up." But did I go? Of course not. Yet, fool that you are, you have come all the way to Cairo on the strength of a silly dream.
Then the chief of police gave the merchant some money. 'Here,' he said, 'take this. It will help you on the way back to your own country.' From the policeman's description, the merchant realized at once that the house and garden were his own. He took the money and set out promptly on his homeward journey.








As soon as he reached his house he went into the garden, dug beneath the fountain, and uncovered a great treasure of gold and silver .
Thus the words of the dream were wondrously fulfilled, and Allah made the ruined merchant rich again.
This version is not very much different from the Hasidic one that we have already reviewed. The protagonist here is not a rabbi or peasant, but a formerly wealthy merchant who has become impoverished. Nonetheless, like Eisik, the merchant (who remains nameless) is a God-fearing man, which we understand from his hard work for little pay, heeding the word of God in his dream, sleeping in the mosque’s courtyard, etc. The chief of police, too, though at first seeming to be a hard, cruel man who mockingly laughs at the poor merchant, is actually kind (again, as in the Hasidic version) and even gives the merchant money to travel back home. The main difference is that this version makes a point to say that it was through Allah’s will and grace that this happened. Perhaps there is also the suggestion that were it not for the man’s submissiveness to the divine will, he would not have regained his fortune.
c. The Hidden Treasure--A Hindu Version (Adapted from Arabian Nights )
The following version is a retelling by a contemporary Hindu Swami, Swami Jyotirmayananda. You will note that his version adheres closely to the tale from the Arabian Nights just presented, but it is more homiletical in tone and emphasis.
Away from the din and bustle of the cities, there lived a poor farmer. In spite of all his earnest efforts to improve his economic conditions, he remained in a state of poverty. In spite of the bitterness of the circumstances, in spite of the ridicules of men, he continued to enrich his soul through devotion and faith. A man judges another by his looks -by his wealth and possessions; but God judges man by his feelings, by his inner virtues. The poor farmer had to face many bitter treatments at the hands of his own fellow men. But he found strength from his inner life to face the external troubles. The creeper of faith yielded flowers of excellent virtues.
One day, when he was viewing his sad state, he passed into a state of dream, and he heard a divine being saying to him, "You, man, go to Benares where you will find a vast treasure."
Our man was unaccustomed to city life and was ignorant of the city laws. The police found him wandering in the city, and they brought him to their Chief. The Chief scolded the poor man and asked him his purpose for coming to the city. The farmer explained that he had a dream in which he was told to go to Benares to find a vast treasure. He had merely acted according to the command of the dream.
The Chief of Police laughed and said, "You foolish man, I had similar dreams many times. I dreamt of such and such a village, where there is such and such a thatched hut. A stream runs by the front side of the hut. I was told that there was a vast treasure buried in front of the hut by the side of the stream. I never believed my dreams. I never went out looking for treasure. Therefore, go back to your home and give up these imaginary dreams."
The descriptions that the Chief had given of the place, the hut and the stream tallied with his own residence. He hastened back to his home and dug deep in front of his own hut, and to his great surprise, he found the treasure right within the limits of this property. He understood the significance of the dream message. Soon he became very rich. When his neighbors knew of his wealth, they became very amiable and friendly. But the farmer knew their deeper nature and was not beguiled by them. He continued to live happily.









Moral: The treasure of the Self lies by the stream of feeling right in your own heart. When purity grows, you develop an aspiration for finding the treasure. You consider the Self to be something objective. But with the help of Guru and the guidance of scriptures, you realize the reassure to be right within your heart. Thus having understood, you withdraw your mind and senses through enquiry of "Who am I?" and you develop the feeling of divine love. Thus you attain Self-realization and are unaffected by the lures of the lower self.

Moreso than any of the other versions we have seen, Swami Jyotirmayaananda emphasizes that the protagonist is a pious man, adding that the man’s piety and purity led him to hear divine call to become a seeker after treasure – spiritual treasure. In fact, on the Swami’s reading, the whole story becomes an allegory for the soul’s journey to the realization of the Self (Brahman). He even adds a section about the man’s covetous neighbors, then proceeds to interpret that symbolically as well.
The Swami’s reading is reminiscent of the “neo-advaita” philosophy which has grown in popularity recently, due in part to the teachings and Western students of the late H.L Poona. Poona’s principal advice to the seeker had been: stop seeking. One of his students, the western born Gangaji, says that when she let go of being a seeker after truth (with the aid of “Poonjaji”), she finally realized that she had always already been there. Here is an excerpt from one of her audio discourses.

What is realized in a moment of perfect realization is what has always been present. This is the Great Laugh that is a part of realization: That which one has been furiously, desperately, relentlessly, with great frustration searching for has always been present exactly where one is, is always present, is present Now in you, an can be revealed to you now as your own self. And that’s the power of this question, “Who are you?”

IV. THE BELOVED KNOCKS


I was asleep, but my heart was wakeful. Hark, my beloved knocks!
Let me in, my own, my darling, my faultless dove!…
I opened the door for my beloved, but my beloved had turned and gone.
-- Song of Songs, 5:2-6


The story which I here refer to as “The Beloved Knocks” appears to be a staple of sacred world literature, turning up most prominently in mystical writings. Buber, who I will quote at length presently, was one of the first to do a cross-cultural analysis of these seemingly parallel tales. Buber was of the opinion that in the case of this story, as well as others where there seems to be a close resemblance between tales found in two distinct traditions, the resemblance can be deceptive and lure the superficial reader into a false sense of what I will refer to as “spiritual equivalence.” In other words, a reader who reads one of the several Hasidic versions of this tale (Buber himself retold one), and then one of the several Sufi versions (such as Rumi’s famous retelling) might be tempted to feel that mystics in general, regardless of tradition or historical moment, were all after, or getting at, the same thing. Buber, who may have felt this way in his earlier years but who later backed away from this stance, cautions against jumping to such facile conclusions. Before we continue, let us consider some of Buber’s thoughts on the matter, particularly as they apply to the story theme at hand (i.e. “The Beloved Knocks”). I quote Buber at length because he also includes a few version of the tale in addition to the ones I present afterward.

For the critical elucidation of the task I begin with a tale through which one can show quite clearly how a certain theme is common to various religious realms, but through which we must at the same time recognize that the establishing of this common factor by itself means no great advance. The story is told of Rabbi Aaron of Karlin, a favorite disciple of the Maggid of Mezritch, who died young. A fellow disciple on his way home from Mezritch came to Karlin about midnight and desired to greet his friend. He went at once to his house and knocked on the lighted window. "Who are you?" asked a voice from within, and, certain that Aaron would recognize him by his voice, he answered, "I." No reply came, and the door did not open even though he knocked again and again. Finally he cried," Aaron, why do you not open to me?" then he heard from within, "Who is it who presumes to say 'I,' as it is fitting for God alone to do!" He said in his heart, "I see then that I have not yet finished learning," and returned immediately to the Magggid.
We know this story, and indeed in a fuller version, from the literature of the Sufi sect of Islam, namely, from the first part of the collection of mystical parables "Masnawi" of the Persian poet Jalal-ud-din Rumi. Here no great Sufi is named, rather everything remains anonymous. A man knocks on the door of his friend. The latter asks, "Who is it?" He answers, "I." He sends him away. For a whole year the sorrow of separation burns in him, then he comes again and knocks once more. To the question of his friend, "Who is it?" he replies, "Thou. " And at once the room is opened to him in which there is not room for two "I"s, that of God (of the "friend") and that of man. Doubtless this story does not originate with Rumi. In the View of Massignon and Paul Kraus his source is a saying of the mystical martyr al-Hallaj, quoted by Solami. There God rejects the faithful one who answers, "It is I," but receives him when he returns and now gives the answer, "No, it is thou, my Lord!" And in that moment his longing for God becomes God's longing for him. It is quite possible that the presence of the motif in Hasidism --in fragmentary form - -is to be traced to Sufi influence, perhaps through Turkey in the Sabbatian era. So far as I know it cannot be proved. For us the question is unimportant here. For we do not have before us an inner Ink between Sufism and Hasidism alone that would testify to an especial closeness between them. We find parallels not only in the Indian Bhakti mysticism and in the Rhenish monastic mysticism of the Middle Ages, but also in a mystical system that in contrast to them bears no theistic stamp, the Chinese Zen Buddhism with which we will be occupied further. There it is told how a monk from another Buddhist sect, following the advice of a Zen monk, becomes absorbed in inner contemplation in the latter's monastery. In the gray of morning he hears a flute playing, falls into ecstasy, runs to the cell of the Zen monk and knocks on the door. To the question, 'Who is it?,' he answers, 'I.' Then the other lets fly at him, 'Why do you get drunk and snort away the whole night on the street?' The next day the man attains the 'right attitude' and expresses it in these verses: 'Now I no longer have an idle dream on my pillow, I let the fluteplayer blow in whatever way he wills.' In the symbolic language of Zen this means that he no longer opposes the I to the Being but experiences the Unity."
I am but dust and ashes.
-- Genesis 18.27

b. The Beloved Knocks –Buber’s Version


A disciple of the Great Maggid had received instruction
from him for several years and was now starting on his journey home. On the way, he decided to stop in Karlin to visit Rabbi Aaron, who for a time had been his companion in the maggid' s House of Study. It was nearly midnight when he reached the city , but his desire to see his friend was so great that he at once went to his house and knocked at the lit window. He heard the dear, familiar voice ask, "Who is it?" and -- certain that his own voice would be recognized -- he answered nothing but the word: "I!" But the window remained closed and no other sound came form within, though he knocked again and again. At last he cried out in distress: "Aaron, why don't you open for me?"
Then his friend replied, but his voice was so grave and solemn
that it sounded almost strange to him: "Who is it that dares call himself "I" as befits only God HimseIf!" When the disciple heard this, e said to himself: "I have not learned nearly enough," and without delaying he returned to Mezritch.
b. The Beloved Knocks – Another Jewish (Hasidic) Version




The Leveler Rebbe said to Rav Yisrael (Baba Sali):

There was once a Rebbe called Reb Mordechai of Lechvitch who had a Chassid named Reb Nuchum. Reb Nuchum once knocked at the Rebbe’s door.
“Who is it?” called the Rebbe.
“It is I,” answered the Chassid.
“Who but G-d Himself can answer, “I” [Hb. “anokhi”]?’ asked the Lechvitcher Rebbe…
Immediately, Reb Nuchum returned home, saying that he had learned his lesson for the day, and it was enough.”