Once there was a monastery that had fallen upon hard times. Some of the younger monks had left in dissatisfaction, and no new men were joining. There were but a handful of monks and their leader, the Abbot, remaining. They began to fight among themselves, each blaming the hard times on the faults and failing of the other.
One day a traveling Rabbi stopped at the monastery for a night's rest. The abbot greeted him with great respect and they talked for many hours about deep things.
The Abbot shared the monastery's sad state of affairs with the Rabbi, and as he was about to leave he said: "Tell me my friend. You are a very wise man. Perhaps you can give me a piece of advice that could help save my monastery?"
"No, I'm sorry," said the rabbi. "The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you."
When the Rabbi left, the Abbot gathered his monks together and told them that he had asked the Rabbi for advice. "Well what did he say?" asked the monks.
"He couldn't help," the Abbot answered. "He only said something rather strange. He said 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 the Rabbi's words:
The Messiah is one of us? One of the monks here at the monastery? Then who?! Perhaps he meant the Abbot. Oh yes, if anybody is the Messiah it would have to be the leader of our community, the Abbot. But perhaps He meant Brother Thomas. Brother Thomas is so very devout.
He could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred is so irritable at times, although come to think of it, Elred is very clever and he often finds answers to problems that arise. It couldn't be Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then mysteriously he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. Perhaps he 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 perhaps he did mean me? As they contemplated the matter, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them was the Messiah.
It so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its' tiny lawn, and to wander along some of its paths. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the old monks, radiating from them and permeating the atmosphere of the place.
There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about the monastery. People returned more frequently to picnic, play, and pray. They began to bring their friends too. And then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another.
Within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order, thanks to the Rabbi's gift. It became a vibrant centre of light and spirituality in the realm, a place which was forever to be distinguished and known by its' shinning aura of extraordinary respect.
What does it mean to truly respect ourselves and others? What would it mean to live with extraordinary respect for all who surround us, feeling their respect for us, feeling this inward and outward respect permeate our very being?
Our story opens with a scene that in some variation or other, is familiar to us all. Things are not working out! We all know the feeling of being disappointed, at a loss, helpless, or ready to blame someone or something for things not being as we hoped.
Often when we find ourselves in such situations, we also look outwardly for some kind of salvation. Like the Abbot of the monastery who asks the Rabbi for advice, we too, often seek out some reputedly wise person, maybe a therapist, astrologer, or seer. We may wish for some form of Messiah who will wondrously redeem us from the predicament we are in.
Does such a Messiah truly exist?
The wise Rabbi points the finger back to the Abbot, uttering the somewhat cryptic and startling statement, "the Messiah is one of you!"
While pondering the Rabbi's words, the monks start observing each other with fresh eyes. Where as before they only saw one another's faults and failings, they now begin waking up to each other's attributes and gifts as each and every monk suddenly appears to the others as a potential Messiah, and with this freshness of view and the extraordinary respect it begins generating, a precious and beautiful magic starts unfolding in the monastery.
We all are familiar with the term 'respect.' But may we note that the story refers to 'extraordinary' respect, for this is no ordinary respect the monks are showing each other and themselves, as indeed the word Messiah is no ordinary word.
The monks are recognizing in each other and within themselves, a quality of divine beauty that has in its power to redeem and change the world.
What would it be like, to view all our fellow beings in such light? Can we take a moment to sense the tender, precious, divine soul of the person standing next to us, a person whom perhaps we never gave an extra thought about till today? Can we take a moment to look into the divine being of the person who so irritated us yesterday? Can we deepen our view to perceive his or her gifts and special qualities, respecting not only the fullness of the person that he or she is, but also the unique situation and circumstances that brought us both together? Can we bring this quality of extraordinary respect to ourselves, to the precious, unique, multi-layered being that is us? Do we not deserve it?
I believe that when extraordinary respect becomes a guiding principle in our lives, deep healing can occur and major changes start taking place. Perhaps, instead of waiting for a savior to redeem us, we can look around and recognize the wide variety of 'Messiahs' that are populating our premises at this very moment. Perhaps if we look into our own heart with tender recognition, we may just see… that actually… the Messiah, like peace, might very well 'begin within me.'