Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published Sunday April 7, 2024
A holy man was addressing a group of religious teenagers, but one of the young people was troubled. The teachings seemed ungodly, so he raised his hand. Where in the Scriptures is this found? It is there; it is the will of God. But where? It is there; it is the will of God. But where is it in the Scripture? There was no answer because the teaching was not in Scripture. The young man, the future Imam Abdullah Antepli, had studied the Koran and knew that this teaching was not in the Koran—neither Surah nor Hadith.
Though set in a Muslim context, this story could have easily taken place in a Christian, or Hindu, or Buddhist, or Jewish setting—and unfortunately, it often does. Sometimes religious people think something so strongly that they think it is Scriptural when it is not.
This is nothing new. In fact, religions around the world know about this tendency, and they all have stories reminding the pious to be humble—and not to put their thoughts into God’s mouth. Here is the way the story goes. A faithful disciple says or does something and thinks that it will please his/her master. To the disciple’s surprise, the master is disappointed and redirects the thinking to a different and more important principle. The story is ubiquitous—in Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, Confucianism, Shintoism, Christianity, Islam, Taoism, Baha’ism, and the many native religious cultures. The disciple thinks he/she knows the truth and comes to the Master—Hassidic Rebbe, Sufi Master, Mother Superior, Zen Master, etc., thinking that this truth stated or performed will bring approval. The problem is that, in the zeal of religious fervor, the disciple gets it wrong.
In Judaism’s stories of the Baal Shem Tov, there is the case of Reb Yechiel Michel of Zlotchev who reports on a harsh punishment he has given a student for violating one of the Sabbath laws. The principle is ritual correctness, and the harsh punishment was intended to help the student remember the error of his ways. The Baal Shem Tov listens without comment and then sends Reb Yechiel Michel on a distant errand. The problem is that the errand necessitates traveling after the Sabbath begins—a sin. When he returns, Yechiel Michel is remorseful and perplexed. He has pleased his master, but he has broken the Sabbath. When he reports to the Baal Shem Tov, he expects a punishment as harsh as the one he gave his student, but the Baal Shem Tov is more interested in how he feels. This remorse, the Baal Shem Tov teaches, is punishment enough. That is how one remembers not to violate the Sabbath. The pious Reb Yechiel Michel thought he knew how to be a rebbe, but he needed correction.
Another example is the Christian Parable of the Prodigal Son—where the good son takes the place of the disciple who gets it wrong. The older and good brother sees the evil of his younger, greedy, and wasteful brother and knows that he does not deserve blessing. The master’s role is played by the father who, while acknowledging the younger son’s misbehavior, still loves him. While righteousness and respect are clearly important, the love of the father for his errant son is more important. Though the good son (and the reader!) thinks he knows the religious answer, the human father (and Jesus!) provides correction.
Why are such stories universal? I suspect it is because we religious types have a tendency to get carried away with our righteousness and piety—and to take them too far. We are certain we understand God’s will, but we may not be right. We “hear” the Voice of God ringing in our ears, but we may not be listening to all that the Lord has to say. Whether in ignorance or tunnel vision or active manipulation, there are those who claim to speak for God but who really speak from the evil in their hearts. As we love God and submit to the Divine, let us beware. Let us be humble. Let us listen harder.