December has approached us, with its chill and humid air in this part of the world, and its multi-dimensionalities against all odds, the entire humanity. December, for different people, for different cultures, conveys different meanings. But the most important aspect of December is immersed within the sweet word—Christmas. Well, things get sweeter with the New Year celebrations. I, certainly, am aware that you have opinions that occupy a drastically shifted space than the one explained here, or some times you are one who agrees with it as well. So I do not want to give you an impression that I am attempting an essay on Christmas and/or New Year Celebrations.
It doesn’t matter who you are or what your Faith is. Here, in The Indian Commentator, you are in the celebration of reading. And in this month of December, I have something special for you, my reader. Although, I began the month with a couple of new poems, the celebration I intent is to be with stories. But why stories? There is a reason. I read the following story in Paulo Coelho’s blog some days back, which reminded me of the significance of telling stories. I am quoting that story with his permission here. You can read it below.
The great Rabbi Israel Shem Tov, when he saw that the people in his village were being mistreated, went into the forest, lit a holy fire, and said a special prayer, asking God to protect his people.
And God sent him a miracle.
Later, his disciple Maggid de Mezritch, following in his master’s footsteps, would go to the same part of the forest and say:
“Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the holy fire, but I do know the special prayer; hear me, please!”
The miracle always came about.
A generation passed, and Rabbi Moshe-leib of Sasov, when he saw the war approaching, went to the forest, saying:
“I don’t know how to light the holy fire, nor do I know the special prayer, but I still remember the place. Help us, Lord!”
And the Lord helped.
Fifty years later, Rabbi Israel de Rizhin, in his wheelchair, spoke to God:
“I don’t know how to light the holy fire, nor the prayer, and I can’t even find the place in the forest. All I can do is tell this story, and hope God hears me.”
And telling the story was enough for the danger to pass.
And I will add:Tell your stories. Your neighbors may not understand you, but they will understand your soul. Stories are the last bridge left to allow different cultures to communicate among each other.
Courtesy: Paulo Coelho.
Courtesy: Paulo Coelho.
So let us spend this December with stories. The stories will start from the next post onwards. You can call them, December stories or if you don’t mind, Christmas stories, because the stories will be about December, and life in December. May, Jesus be with all of us. Happy reading!