Once upon a time there lived a fabulously rich man. Even though he had everything his heart wanted, he was unhappy. Doctors found him completely healthy and could not understand the cause of his persistent depression. He tried a lot to become at least a little happier: travel, music, sports, hobbies, dancing, meditation - nothing helped, he still felt unhappy.
He went to the rabbi for advice.
“The problem is,” said the wise rabbi, “that you did not share your wealth and luck with anyone, you never even gave alms.” If you want to be happy, help others.
This was something new! “After all,” the man thought, “you can donate money to charity to get better.” But he soon realized that it was not so simple. He was not used to parting with money without any benefit, and did not even know where to start. Yes, many people really seemed poor, but who knows, maybe they were pretending? On the other hand, people who were truly in need could hide their poverty out of pride. No, you can’t give money to just anyone - it can end up with unworthy people who will use it for some evil.
He suffered for so long that he almost went crazy. There must be a way to identify truly deserving but needy people! And one day it dawned on him. We need to give money to people who have lost all hope. This will be true poverty.
The man began to visit different prisons, hospitals, shelters, orphanages, but, alas, without success. He met people who were sick, lonely, broke, unemployed, but none of them lost hope. The rich man fell into despair: his own hope for a cure was fading.
One day, while walking down the street, he heard a drawn-out groan coming from the ruins of an old house, and rushed there. There, in a pile of garbage, sat a man in tattered clothes, covered with sores and wounds, and moaned.
-What happened to you? he asked.
“Oh, don’t ask,” the tramp swayed with grief, clasped his hands and tore out the remnants of his hair, “I lost everything: my job, money, family, friends!” And now he’s also covered in sores.
“Tell me,” asked the rich man, “do you have hope?”
- Of course, I hope so. As long as I am on the earth, and not the earth above me, I have hope. Only those who are already in the cemetery have no hope!
“Cemetery?..” thought the rich man. If only those in the cemetery have no hope, then we need to give money to those in the grave! It is unknown whether this will help cure, and it is not exactly charity, but why not try? But you can be sure that the money will not fall into the wrong hands.
On a dark night, a man went out into the street with a bag of money and headed to the cemetery. At midnight he dug up the first grave he came across and buried the bag there. And then he felt better, as if a stone had been lifted from his soul. It worked, and that's the most important thing.
Many years passed, and the man forgot about the money buried in the cemetery. Perhaps he would never have remembered them if luck had not turned his back on him. First small losses, then large ones, and finally bankruptcy. The man was completely ruined. And then he remembered the money buried in the grave.
This was the last hope! On a dark night, he headed to the cemetery, holding a shovel and a new bag in his hands, in case the old one was rotten. I found the very grave where I hid the money and began to dig in the light of the moon as silently and quickly as I could. He wanted to get out of this grave as quickly as possible.
- Hands up! — suddenly a sharp voice came from behind. - Police!
The man trembled and almost died of fear.
- Do you rob the dead? - asked the policeman.
The poor guy tried unsuccessfully to explain something, but mumbled and stuttered. The policeman took him to jail.
A week later he stood before a judge, once a prosperous rich man, now a penniless prisoner. The only words of consolation that he repeated to himself were the words he heard from a ragamuffin covered with sores: “As long as I am on the earth, and not the earth above me, I have hope.”
The policeman testified:
- Your Honor, I caught this man red-handed. He brought a large shovel to the cemetery and used it to dig up the grave in order to steal possibly gold teeth or things from the dead person.
- What can you say in your defense? — the judge gave the floor to the accused.
“Your Honor, it wasn’t like that.” Many years ago I buried money in this grave because I was looking for someone who had no hope at all. Because the rabbi advised me to donate money to charity, but I could not find a person who had lost hope. And then I met one man in the ruins, covered with sores, and he told me that only those in the cemetery have no hope. And I buried the money in the grave. But now I needed them.
“Excuse me, your honor,” the policeman intervened, “do you believe him?” I've never heard anything more absurd.
“Yes, I believe him,” the judge looked sympathetically. - This man is telling the truth. Let him go. He's innocent.
Once on the street, he no longer thought about his troubles, he breathed deeply, enjoying freedom.
- What a blessing that the judge believed me! By the way, he had a very familiar face, where could I have seen him before?
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru