One day, a Jew came before the Baal Shem Tov with a heavy heart.
"Rabbi! Many troubles have come upon me. I was a great merchant, but now my trade has collapsed and I'm bankrupt. To save my business I borrowed much money and now the money lenders are after me. I have no where to run to. In a few days the rest of my property will be confiscated and even my house will be taken from me."
The Baal Shem Tov looked upon the man with kind eyes, and a smile lit his face.
"Rabbi, you are smiling, and my heart is breaking. Who will help me in my distress? My wife is ill and my only daughter is sad and depressed."
The Baal Shem Tov caressed the man with his gaze, and put an arm across his shoulder. He said, "Indeed your plight is a difficult one. I feel your great sorrow and see that your words come from a broken heart. But don't let your spirit fall. The world is beautiful. It is full of light and grace, and the aid of God can come like the flick of an eye lid."
"Rabbi. You speak of the beauty and light of the world, but my world is dark. There is not one ray of light for me, not one shred of hope."
The Baal Shem Tov hugged the weeping man and then took his arm and led him outside. Bright light blinded their eyes. The day was beautiful. The sky was blue without a wisp of cloud, and the sun sent down dancing rays of light that played with colorful butterflies and stroked the tops of bushes and lawns.
Said the Baal Shem Tov to the Jew: "Feast your eyes. See how beautiful and majestic the world is." The Jew lifted his head, but his face continued to be dark and cloudy.
"And now," said the Baal Shem Tov. "Place your hand before your eyes."
The Jew placed his hand on his eyes and did not say a word.
"Do you see the shining sun?" asked the Baal Shem Tov
"No! How could I see the sun when my hand hides the entire world?"
The Baal Shem Tov laughed.
"That's what I told you, my good friend!"
The Jew didn't understand.
"The small palm of your hand hides from you the great big sun and the great vast world with all its beauty! You are crying with a broken heart over all your troubles and you do not see the beauty of the world, the grace of the trees, the song of the birds, and the light of the sky that God created."
"What should I do, Rabbi?" asked the Jew uncomprehendingly.
"Remove the veil that hides the world from you. If you see the beauty of the world, if you listen to its song, you will remember he who created all of this, you will recognize the greatness, the power, and the infinite kindness of the creator. Then your sorrow will lift, the beauty will enter your heart and will fill you with faith in the redeeming powers of the one who made all this."
How often, like the Jew in this story, do we find ourselves immersed in our troubles, wrapped in the worries and woes of our life, unable to see beyond the immediate circumstances of our present pain and distress?
Certainly in times when we are undergoing some severe trial, it seems almost impossible to remember that there is a whole humming and buzzing world out there, vibrant with life and light, with song and with sunshine.
Indeed it is not only in times of stress and difficulty that we tend to forget. We most often walk around in a bubble of sorts, viewing the world through the veil of our thoughts, views, and immediate concerns, failing to notice the rich hues of color on the ground, the soft murmur of sounds that underlie the sharp and obvious ones, the movement of air on our skin as we move through our day.
As the Jew shuts the light of the sun out with his palm, so do we veil our perception of the world with continuous self-absorption.
And yet, palm over the eyes or no palm, dark as the world may seem at times we may rest assured that the sun never stops shining.
"Remove the veil from your eyes" says the Baal Shem Tov to the broken hearted Jew.
Indeed it not an easy move to make. To strip the veil from our being, to dare release the curtain of self concern we are wrapped in, to open into something much wider and vaster then our own personal sorrow and stress, can actually appear painful at first. It can even arouse frustration and reluctance.
We do not have to negate our sorrow. It is not about suppressing what we feel or keeping a stiff upper lip. It is about acknowledging what ever we are going through as inseparable from the infinitely mysterious and beautiful movement of creation.
It is about opening our eyes to the greatness of existence, even as our heart breaks and personal grief wracks our being.
It is about listening deeply to the song that is singing existence into being moment by moment, surrendering to the great powers that enable that song to come forth, and trusting, as the Baal Shem Tov says, in the redeeming powers of the one who made all this.
As the Jew in our story removes his palm from his eyes, may we remove the veil from our being, allowing the beauty of the world to fill us with power and with faith in the mysteries and miracles that are singing their song through us.