Heaven and Hell
-- author unknown to webmaster
The old monk sat by the side of the road.
With his eyes closed, his legs crossed and
his hands folded in his lap, he sat.
In deep meditation, he sat.
Suddenly his zazen was interrupted by the harsh
and demanding voice of a samurai warrior.
"Old man! Teach me about heaven and hell!"
At first, as though he had not heard,
there was no perceptible response from the monk.
But gradually he began to open his eyes,
the faintest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his
mouth as the samurai stood there, waiting impatiently, growing
more and more agitated with each passing second.
"You wish to know the secrets of heaven and hell?"
replied the monk at last.
"You who are so unkempt.
You whose hands and feet are covered with dirt.
You whose hair is uncombed, whose breath is foul,
whose sword is all rusty and neglected.
You who are ugly and whose mother dresses you funny.
You would ask me of heaven and hell?"
The samurai uttered a vile curse.
He drew his sword and raised it high above his head.
His face turned to crimson and the veins on his neck
stood out in bold relief as he prepared to sever the
monk's head from its shoulders.
"That is hell," said the old monk gently,
just as the sword began its descent.
In that fraction of a second, the samurai was overcome with
amazement, awe, compassion and love for this gentle being
who had dared to risk his very life to give him such a
teaching.
He stopped his sword in mid-flight and his eyes filled with grateful tears.
"And that," said the monk, "is heaven."
The Cracked Pot
-- author unknown to webmaster
A water bearer in India had two large pots,
each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck.
One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect
and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk
from the stream to the masters house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering
only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection,
and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half
of what it had been made to do.
After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure,
it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
"I have been able, for these past two years,
to deliver only half my load because this crack in my
side causes water to leak out all the way back to your
master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of
this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot,
and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house,
I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice
of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path,
and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt
bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot
apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were
flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other
pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw,
and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side
of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream,
you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these
beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being
just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots.
But if we will allow it, our flaws will be used to grace His Father's table.
In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste. Don't be afraid of your flaws.
Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty.
Know that in our weakness we find our strength.
This page was created on May 3, 2000