Well, here we are. I have thought for a very long time about writing a blog and sharing my journey through thoughts and stories with everyone. One thing, about me, that is certain, is that I love stories of all kinds. Perhaps that is one reason that I am so drawn to the Holy Scriptures for they are the stories of life which lead to salvation. As I have begun the process of preparing for this Sunday’s sermon, I ran across this very old Hasidic story. I know that it has also been published in Max Lucado’s book, In the Eye of the Storm, but I am unaware of who the original author might have been. I pray that this story has meaning in your life as it has in mine.
The Old Man and the White Horse
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor,
he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the
king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen
before such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength. People
offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused.
"This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a
person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a
possession. How could you sell a friend?"
The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the
horse. One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All
the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told
you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would
be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such
a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You
could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have
been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you 've been cursed with
misfortune."
The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the
horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is
judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you
judge?"
The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be
philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact
that your horse is gone is a curse."
The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and
the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse or
a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say
what will come next?"
The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was
crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn't, he would
have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a
poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out
of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of
poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he had
run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a
dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered
around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right and we were
wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive
us."
The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the
horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but
don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see
only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge?
You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You
read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?
"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word.
All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing. No
one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what
I don't."
"Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said
little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a
blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a
little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold
for much money.
Now the old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break
the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and
broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man
and cast their judgments. "You were right," they said. "You proved
you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a
curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you
have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."
The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging.
Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if
it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment.
Life comes in fragments."
It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war
against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were
required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded,
because he was injured.
Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and
screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance
that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a
losing struggle. They would never see their sons again. "You were
right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves
it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but
at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."
The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You
always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had
to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or
a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."
What a lesson this story has for our life! How quick we are to judge whether something is good or bad, old or young, strong or weak, worthy or unworthy? May we always remember that we serve a loving and gracious God.
But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Psalm 86:15
The Old Man and the White Horse
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor,
he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the
king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen
before such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength. People
offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused.
"This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a
person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a
possession. How could you sell a friend?"
The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the
horse. One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All
the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told
you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would
be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such
a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You
could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have
been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you 've been cursed with
misfortune."
The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the
horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is
judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you
judge?"
The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be
philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact
that your horse is gone is a curse."
The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and
the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse or
a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say
what will come next?"
The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was
crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn't, he would
have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a
poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out
of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of
poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he had
run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a
dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered
around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right and we were
wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive
us."
The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the
horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but
don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see
only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge?
You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You
read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?
"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word.
All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing. No
one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what
I don't."
"Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said
little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a
blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a
little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold
for much money.
Now the old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break
the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and
broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man
and cast their judgments. "You were right," they said. "You proved
you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a
curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you
have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."
The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging.
Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if
it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment.
Life comes in fragments."
It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war
against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were
required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded,
because he was injured.
Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and
screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance
that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a
losing struggle. They would never see their sons again. "You were
right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves
it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but
at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."
The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You
always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had
to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or
a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."
What a lesson this story has for our life! How quick we are to judge whether something is good or bad, old or young, strong or weak, worthy or unworthy? May we always remember that we serve a loving and gracious God.
But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Psalm 86:15
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