My cow, my cow!
Desperately trying to preserve my attention span, today I started reading a long novel: War and Peace. One part of the introduction caught my attention:
Poète et non honnête homme, wrote Pascal, meaning that a poet cannot be an honest man. Tolstoy fully agreed with Pascal…[but] found that the truth could not be approached directly, that every attempt at direct expression became a simplification and therefore a lie, and that the “shortest way to sense” was rather long and indirect.
Rav Yehuda Amital told great stories. Great stories Show rather than Tell, arriving at the truth indirectly. Here is one of my favorite:
Some words speak; others send a message. There are times when words denote nothing more than their plain sense; but there are also times when words send out a message that tells us much more than what was actually stated. A person must be sensitive enough to hear what lies behind the words.
I often tell the chassidic tale about Rabbi Moshe of Kobrin, who every now and then would visit rabbis and tzaddikim in order to see how they served God. Rabbi Moshe arrived one Friday afternoon in the town of Ador Rabbi Yisrael of Apta, and he went to see how Rabbi Yisrael would prepare himself for Shabbat. When everything was ready, Rabbi Yisrael went into the beit midrash and began to read Shir Ha-shirim with great enthusiasm. Rabbi Moshe was beside himself, greatly impressed by what he had witnessed. All of a sudden, the door opened, and a barnyard stench permeated the beit midrash. A Jewish cowherd approached the Admor, and cried out: "Rebbe, my cow, my cow."
Rabbi Yisrael interrupted his reading of Shir Ha-shirim, and asked what was wrong. The cowherd explained that his cow, which was ready to calve, was experiencing difficulties in the birthing process, and were the cow to die, he would lose his livelihood, God forbid. The Admor calmed him down, sent him to a veterinarian, and even blessed the cow that it should survive the birth whole and healthy.
Rabbi Moshe of Kobrin, who had witnessed the entire incident, was very troubled by what he had seen. Simple-minded Jews must be brought near to religion, but surely if all books of the Bible are holy, then the Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies! How could Rabbi Yisrael interrupt his recitation of Shir Ha-shirim for a cow? Rabbi Moshe waited until after the Shabbat meal and tisch, and then asked: Is there no limit to the way in which one must relate to simple-minded Jews?
The Rebbe answered him: "Did you hear the Jew's cry?" "Certainly," responded Rabbi Moshe, "he cried out, 'My cow, my cow!'" The Admor said to him: "If so, you weren't listening well. The Jew was crying: 'Rebbe, I am nothing, please draw me close to you!'"
This may not have been what the cowherd said, but this is the message he sent out. The simple Jew sought the Rebbe's closeness, but what could he talk to him about? The only possibility he had of creating a connection with the Rebbe was by way of his everyday needs. His words sent out a message that went far beyond what was actually stated.