|
|
September 26, 2003
New Year's tale of Chelm
There once was a king who did not believe in God....
MARK BINDER SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
Doodle ran breathlessly into the rabbi's study: "Rabbi Kibbitz,
Rabbi Kibbitz!" The old man looked up from his reading.
"What is it, Doodle?"
"I don't believe in God."
Rabbi Kibbitz, the senior rabbi of Chelm blinked. "Why don't
you come right to the point."
Doodle looked puzzled.
The rabbi waved his hand. "Never mind. What brings you here?"
"We were learning about the creation of the world and I told
the school teacher Rabbi Abrahms that I don't believe in the Almighty.
He gasped and fell. After that, we brought him back to consciousness...."
"He passed out?"
"Cold. Right in front of the whole class."
"How did you revive him?
"By throwing a bucket of water on him."
Rabbi Kibbitz nodded and, behind his hand, smiled at the thought
of his young associate waking up so suddenly drenched. "So
then...."
"So then he told me to come right away and see you."
"All right, you've seen me." The rabbi waved his hand
in dismissal and then returned to his reading.
Doodle stood in front of the gigantic desk. He was confused. Should
he leave? "Umm...."
The rabbi peered up. "Are you still here?"
Doodle nodded. "I think so."
"Why?"
"I still don't believe in God."
"Hmm." The rabbi tugged at his long grey beard. "Are
you sure?"
Doodle looked up at the ceiling, as if he were staring up into the
sky. "I think so."
"So, you think you don't believe in God?"
The boy nodded.
"And who are you?"
"I'm Doodle. I don't have any parents. No one seems to know
where I came from."
"You think you came from God?"
The boy shook his head vigorously. "No. I know I had parents
somewhere. Maybe they're alive. Maybe they're dead."
"It's difficult not knowing," the rabbi said.
Doodle shrugged. "But that's not why I don't believe in God."
"Are you sure?"
Again the boy thought for a moment and again he nodded. "We
were discussing the first commandment and I told the rabbi that
I didn't believe in God. He found this upsetting."
"Naturally. Rabbi Abrahms' whole life is devoted to the Almighty.
He is a very good man."
"Well, what do you think?" Doodle asked.
"Does it matter what I think?" Rabbi Kibbitz said.
"It might."
The rabbi looked thoughtful. "Let's make some tea."
They sat at the small table beside the rabbi's desk, holding their
glasses carefully with two fingers.
Doodle felt so proud. This was the first time that he had been in
Rabbi Kibbitz's study by himself without any other children or teachers.
His bar mitzvah would be coming soon and he wondered whether this
was what it was like to be a grown-up. Two men, just talking.
"If I told you that I believe in God," Rabbi Kibbitz said,
as if he hadn't been interrupted, "would it change your mind?
Or...." He held up a finger, asking Doodle to wait before answering.
"If I said that I did not believe in God, would it reinforce
your belief that you don't believe?"
Doodle's mouth dropped open. "You don't believe in God?"
"I didn't say that." Rabbi Kibbitz smiled. "I said,
'If.' "
"How could you not believe in God? You're a rabbi!"
"You think all rabbis believe in God?"
"It's your job!"
"Maybe," Rabbi Kibbitz laughed. "Maybe. Listen, Doodle,
what if God didn't believe in you?"
Doodle's mouth dropped open. "That would be horrible."
"Why? If you don't believe in God, what difference would it
make?"
"If God didn't believe in me, then I wouldn't exist."
Rabbi Kibbitz nodded, "And yet you are still here."
The boy heistated.
"Let me ask you another question," the rabbi said.
"That's all you're doing," Doodle said, "is asking
me questions. How come I can't get an answer?"
"You came to me with an answer," Rabbi Kibbitz said.
"I did?"
The rabbi nodded. "You said you didn't believe in God. That's
an answer. I assumed you needed some questions."
Doodle scratched an itch on the back of his neck. The rabbi took
a sip of tea and waited.
At last Doodle asked, "Rabbi, is there a God?"
"Ahh," Rabbi Kibbitz said, "Let me tell you a story...."
Long ago, there was a king who did not believe in God. He summoned
the rabbi who lived in the capital city and told him, "You
have one day to prove to me that there is a God. If you can do this,
then you will live."
To himself, the rabbi thought, "How wonderful that the king
cares so much about God that he would risk my life in the quest."
But he kept his tongue silent and went home. There, he took a pen
and ink and sat at his desk with a piece of parchment, drawing.
He drew a picture of the flower garden around his house and the
house itself. His wife and children, they rushed in, worried.
"How can you draw at a time like this?"
The rabbi asked them to stand still so that he could add them to
the picture. His friends and students came to visit and say good-bye.
They, too, were added to the drawing. The next morning, he hugged
everyone, and he went to the king. His family and friends and students
waited outside the house for word from the palace.
"Here, your majesty, is the proof. " And he presented
the king with the drawing.
"This?" The king was puzzled. "It's a beautiful picture.
I didn't know you were such an artist."
"Oh, I didn't draw this," the rabbi said. "The ink
bottle spilled and it just came out that way."
"Nonsense." The king scowled. "That's impossible.
How could an ink splash create such a beautiful picture?"
"Come here," the rabbi said. He led the king to the window.
"Look down there. You see my house and my garden? Look at the
people standing there. You think this was created by some random
chance? You won't believe that an ink splash created a simple drawing.
Look at all this. An ink splash or an artist?"
The king laughed. He shook the rabbi's hand and gave him a bag of
gold for his trouble, and for the drawing. The rabbi went home to
his family, friends and students. The king hung the drawing on the
wall to remember the artist of everything.
"So, Doodle," Rabbi Kibbitz said. "What do you think
now?"
Doodle smiled, "That's a good story."
"And you're still here?"
Now Doodle grinned. "Yes."
"So, go back to class already. And Doodle?"
The boy was already at the door. "Yes, rabbi?"
"Tell Rabbi Abrahms I suggest that its less dangerous if he
sits down when he teaches."
Mark Binder is an author and storyteller. His tapes, CDs
and books are available at www.markbinder.com.
^TOP
|
|
