Dr. Robert Crilley

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Francis Dorff tells the beautiful story of a monastery which had fallen on hard times. In years past, the abbey had housed many young monks eager to follow God, the sanctuary had resounded with anthems, and each Sunday villagers traveled from the surrounding countryside to be nourished in prayer and praise. Now only a handful of monks remained. The sanctuary—once filled with worshipers—was practically empty each Sunday morning. And those few visitors who ventured to the abbey came more out of curiosity than conviction.

On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a small hut. From time to time, he would go there to fast and study Scripture. No one ever talked to him, but whenever he appeared, the word quickly passed from monk to monk: “The rabbi walks again in the woods.” And, for as long as he resided there, they would feel sustained by his presence.

One day the abbot decided to visit the rabbi and open his heart to him. “I wanted to express my gratitude,” the abbot confided. “We have felt the strength of your prayers at the monastery.”

The old rabbi nodded. “I know that your ministry has not been an easy one. But if you’ll permit me, I want to give you a teaching which has been revealed to me. However, you can only repeat it once. After that, no one must mention it aloud again.”

The abbot agreed. With a low voice, the rabbi whispered, “The Messiah lives among you.”

“What do you mean?” the abbot started to ask. But the rabbi shook his head, “That’s all I can tell you. You must go now.”

Still puzzled by the statement, the abbot reluctantly got up and left without a word.

The next morning he gathered the monks together. “I have received a teaching from the rabbi who walks in the woods,” the abbot explained, “but you must promise never to speak of it again. The rabbi told me that one of us is the Messiah!”

A startled hush fell over the room, as the monks looked questioningly at one another. In accordance with the rabbi’s wishes, though, nothing more was said concerning the matter. But secretly, the monks wondered to themselves: “Can it possibly be true? The Messiah is one of us? Who might it be? Is it Brother John? Or maybe Thomas?”

Nobody knew for sure. However, as time went on, the monks began to treat each other with a very special reverence. There was a gentle, warmhearted quality about their life together, which, while difficult to describe, was easy enough to notice. Indeed, occasional visitors found themselves deeply moved by the evident love they saw exhibited at the monastery. Gradually, people started to worship there again on Sunday mornings to be nourished in prayer. The sanctuary resounded once more with anthems of praise. And countless young men, eager to follow God, asked to become a part of the abbey.

In a sense, each and every Christmas, we whisper the same truth to one another—“The Messiah lives among us!” In fact, if you wish to catch the real spirit of this season, my suggestion would be to start treating everyone you encounter as if they were Christ himself.

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