Borrowed Breath

There was a man who heard of a rabbi whose teaching carried weight and authority far surpassing the other teachers of the day. The man was intrigued by the growing reputation of this carpenter turned itinerant teacher. The first-hand stories of miracles and rumors of provocative teachings piqued his interest. And so he set out to find this rabbi.

In town, he saw a crowd gathered around the rabbi. So he approached and listened to him speaking of the kingdom of heaven. He spoke of giving food to the hungry, and of giving water to the thirsty, and of taking the stranger into one’s home, and of providing clothes for those who have none, and of visiting those in prison. And then this rabbi made a profound statement. He declared that those who do these things are actually doing them to God. And those who overlook these people groups are ignoring God Himself. He said that, in the day of judgment, God will declare, “If you have done these things to the least of these, you have done it to me.”

This intense teaching stuck with the man for some time. He couldn’t shake these words, for he knew that he often overlooked those around him who were in need. The phrase “the least of these” bounced around in his mind and heart until he decided to try to follow through on the teaching he heard.

So each morning, he would pray, “God, show me ‘the least of these.’”

And each day, God would answer his prayer and direct his steps to those who were ignored or overlooked by society. He knelt next to the homeless man and listened to his story and was amazed at its similarity to his own. He played with a mentally disabled child in the park and looked deep into the eyes of this beautiful human being and saw hope. He made a point to speak with the young lady at work who was shunned due to her awkward behavior, and found she had a delightfully dark and witty sense of humor. But he also discovered that many to whom he reached out rejected his attention. Some did so quietly. But others lashed out in anger, trying to defend their dignity. His heart broke for these most of all, for they misinterpreted his motives and missed out on the blessing of his friendship.

Weeks later, he saw the rabbi sitting on a curb in a dark alley behind a run-down bar speaking with a crying woman with rats and cockroaches as the only audience. As he approached, he heard him sharing words of love and peace to this soul who was rejected and abused by everyone else. And the man wept with the hope he witnessed in this hopeless scene.

He waited until the rabbi arose to move from this sacred place. He caught him by the elbow and told of his many experiences since he first heard the teaching on “the least of these.” The rabbi listened and smiled at the stories of reconciliation and restoration. And as the man told of those who rejected his love, an understanding tear formed in the corner of the rabbi’s eye, rolled down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. He hugged the man, and he felt a warm, assuring love flood his body. Though the hug was long, it was in no way awkward. The rabbi released him and then asked, “If you could, in one sentence, tell of your experience, what would it be?”

The man thought for a moment, and then replied, “The beauty of reaching out to ‘the least of these’ is that I discovered God does not view them as such.”

The rabbi smiled and nodded and declared, “This is the kingdom of heaven.”