“It is told: In the city of Satanov there was a learned man, whose thinking and brooding took him deeper and deeper into the question why what is, is, and why anything is at all. One Friday he stayed in the House of Study after prayer to go on thinking, for he was snared in his thoughts and tried to untangle them and could not.
“The holy Baal Shem Tov (“Master of the Good Name”) felt this from afar, got into his carriage and, by dint of his miraculous power which made the road leap to meet him, he reached the House of Study in Satanov in only an instant.
“There sat the learned man in his predicament. The Baal Shem said to him, ‘You are brooding on whether God is; I am a fool and believe.’
“The fact that there was a human being who knew of his secret, stirred the doubter’s heart and it opened to the Great Secret.”
This anecdote belongs to a group of stories collected in two volumes by the famous Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. Called Tales of the Hasidim, these books are full of brief narratives that breathe religion and spirituality.
The stories center on religious figures of 17th century eastern Europe who were leaders of Jewish communities. Most of the tales are set in Poland or Russia and reflect the sufferings imposed on the Hasidic people of that time and place.
Not only are the stories charming and graceful in structure; they breathe a piety that is grounded in a deep faith and love of God. Often certain details require explanation but the incidents narrated here speak across the centuries.
This particular story strikes a familiar theme – – the inadequacy of mere human knowledge for grasping the divine being. Personal study about the mysteries of the universe, no matter how profound, can carry a person only so far. In fact such investigation frequently causes a person confusion. The role of the rabbi is to release the thinker from this confusion and lead him to the release of faith.
In this instance the great rabbi known as the Baal Shem Tov calls himself a fool but a fool who, through his belief, has been given access to knowledge not possessed by deep thinkers. This theme, celebrating the sublime foolishness of faith, has also loomed large in Christianity, especially in the writings of Saint Paul.
Miracles also figure prominently in these stories and add to their spiritual charm. In this instance, the rabbi reaches his destination faster than any modern jet airplane could transport him. The rabbi also can read the human heart at a distance and, without being told, is aware of the philosopher’s problem. And it is this special knowledge of the problem that solves it, that releases the man from his doubts.
The issue itself is expressed with simple monosyllables – – “why what is, is, and why anything is at all.” These are the questions that greet the person who breaks with routine and takes the trouble to wonder about the origin of ourselves and everything around us.
The answer given to the doubter in the story is described only as “the Great Secret.” Listeners are not given a definition but are left to ponder what the phrase means. Clearly we are meant to understand this title as the central mystery of God, the author of all that exists.
The simplicity of the rabbi’s response to the problem has great power. This power flows, not from the clarity of rational explanation, but rather from the teacher’s ability to read the man’s interior.
Also the man is cured of his doubt, not by argument, but because his heart is stirred. The rabbi’s ability to see into his problem and his concern for the doubter’s spiritual well-being clearly touch the man where he lives.
Time and place are important for full appreciation of the story. But the tale itself transcends these circumstances and speaks to the spiritual seeker of every era. The central issues remain the same; their solution leads in the same direction.
We, too, find ourselves often perplexed by the most important questions. Maybe, at times, we doubt the value of the spiritual enterprise. But the Great Secret, in all its power and fascination, remains.
Richard Griffin