Another wonderful book is The Way of Man, Jewish philosopher Martin Buber's insights about Hasidic teachings and stories. I like it so much I keep a copy on my nightstand, and sometimes just flip to a random page before I go to bed. I actually have this little version with "The Ten Rungs," another collection of Hasidic sayings. In both of these, the religiosity is not too overpowering, or I've been able to ignore what doesn't work for me and listen to what does.
Either way, I do like the stories. Buber is a philosopher, and not as much of a storyteller as Wiesel, so the book is not as entertaining. It has some great wisdom, though, and that's what I take away. I know I would not be welcomed in any Hasidic community, nor would it be a path I'm interested in, but wisdom is wisdom. Stories are stories and parables are parables. My imagination responds.
Here's what a little of what I opened to last night, and it's a favorite:
I will close this chapter with an old
jest as retold by a zaddik. Rabbi Hanokh told this story:
There was once a man who was very stupid. When he got up in
the morning it was so hard for him to find his clothes
that at night he almost hesitated to go to bed for thinking of
the trouble he would have on waking. One evening he finally
made a great effort, took paper and pencil and as he
undressed noted down exactly where he put everything he had
on. The next morning, very well pleased with
himself, he took the slip of paper in his hand and read: “cap”
“pants” — there it was, he set it on his head; there they lay, he
got into them; and so it went until he was fully dressed.
“That’s all very well, but now where am I myself?” he asked in
great consternation. “Where in the world am I?” He looked
and looked, but it was a vain search; he could not find
himself. “And that is how it is with us,” said the rabbi.
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