God has provided us the Holy Spirit to guide, comfort, correct, and lead us through our worldly life as we work toward profiting God’s kingdom and preparing ourselves to inherit God’s kingdom. Recently I have found the Holy Spirit spending more time than usual correcting my attitude. I am not sure why my attitude has been slipping lately but I am so thankful to have the Holy Spirit to instantly call my attention to it so that I can control it. Perhaps all of the uncertainty about my chemotherapy schedule is pulling me down some and affecting my attitude. It’s tough to endure and shine when your attitude about it all is in the dumps.
Galatians 5:16-26 -- Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy,* drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. The Fruit of the Spirit. By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.
The following story does a pretty good job of tying the power of the Holy Spirit to our attitudes and how that affects our lives and the lives of those around us.
The Rabbi’s Gift
Once upon a time, there was a monastery that had fallen on hard times. Although once a great order, all of its branch houses were now closed and it had become reduced to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order.
In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years of prayer and contemplation the old monks had become a bit psychic, so they could always sense when the rabbi was in hermitage. “The rabbi is in the woods, the rabbi is in the woods again,” they would whisper to each other. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot at one such time to visit the hermitage and ask the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.
The rabbi welcomed the abbot into his hermitage. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know what you mean,” he said. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old abbot and the rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. The time came for the abbot to leave. They embraced. “It has been a wonderful thing that we should met after all these years,” the abbot said, “but I have still failed in my purpose for coming. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that will help me save my dying order?”
“No, I am sorry,” the rabbi answered. “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”
When the abbot returned to his fellow monks, they gathered around and asked, “Well, what did the rabbi say?”
“He couldn’t help,” the abbot answered. “We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving – it was something quite strange – was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”
In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi’s words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that’s the case, which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Philip. Philip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He magically appears by your side. Maybe Philip is the Messiah. Of course the rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn’t be that much for you, could I?
As each of the monks contemplated in this manner, they began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Because the forest around the monastery was beautiful, it so happened that people would occasionally come to visit to picnic on the tiny lawn, or wander along some of the paths, or even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed now to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to comeback to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.
Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm. Anonymous, adapted from M. Scott Peck, MD
With just six little words, “The Messiah is one of you” the Rabbi was able to re-ignite the Holy Spirit in the Monastery, completely change the attitudes of each of the Monks, and as a result placed the Monastery in a perfect position to once again profit God’s Kingdom.
Listen to the Holy Spirit. Recognize that the Spirit is always there to guide, correct and comfort you.
Oh powerful and merciful Lord. Thank you for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Provide me the insight to continue to listen to the Spirit and follow his direction and correction.
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A beautiful story...keep them coming.
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