A well-known rabbi was scheduled to deliver a speech at the local school auditorium one evening. A bad snow storm hit the area earlier in the day and most of the expected audience were trapped at home. One couple, who lived next to the school, managed to make it. They were surprised when the rabbi showed up and proceed to give his talk. Not only did he deliver the entire address, he brought it home with passion and with animation with each story he told.
At the end, the couple went up to thank him and said how much they appreciated how he brought the message home with such enthusiasm, even for just the two of them.
- (after an attendee thanked him for bringing so much energy, passion for only the two of them) The rabbi laughed and said, “I wasn’t speak only to you two. I was speaking to your friends, ….
"Oh," asked the rabbi, "Did you think this was only for you?"
"No, no, no," he went on with the same fiery passion, "this was not for you."
"This was for your children, your grandchildren, your families, your friends, colleagues and other you have not met yet."
"They are the ones for whom I spoke."
So words matter, they have a life of their own that is passed on with each telling.
- the timelessness of the meaning
- his embrace of nonlocal payback/reward
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Von's comments from 7/11/17:
Just a couple notes on how I heard the story:
- a couple lines of yours (below) exclude the two people who showed up, but the rabbi includes them in his audience (he just broadened his audience through them).
- this was not for you.”
- "They are the ones for whom I spoke."
- As I heard it—
- (after an attendee thanked him for bringing so much energy, passion for only the two of them) The rabbi laughed and said, “I wasn’t speak only to you two. I was speaking to your friends, ….
- As told to me, the rabbi’s list also included “your children, your grandchildren,” which for me, really drove home 2 things:
- the timelessness of the meaning
- his embrace of nonlocal payback/reward
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