“I have no way to repay you,” Jeff whimpered as a tear streaked his face. Poverty swallowed him whole, like the whale gulped Jonah. Jeff prayed aloud, “I wish I had a way to thank you. You led me in the right direction.”
Dr. Gray accepted this kind display of emotion with heartfelt grace and leaned forward in his chair. “It’s my pleasure to sit across from you and exchange ideas. Don’t think of this as therapy. Think of it as your soul’s liberation—the movement from darkness to light.”
“Does that make you Moses or Muhammad…?” Jeff replied. In unison, they said, “…peace be upon him.”
“Does that make me Jewish or Muslim?” Jeff continued.
Dr. Gray asked, “Is there much difference? Jews and Muslims fast and pray. They worship one God and keep kosher or eat halal food. They’re both descendants of Abraham.”
This sparked a discussion about the land of Israel and temple worship versus prostrating in a mosque. Two men in an office in the heart of DC painted a picture of warring sides coming together as equals instead of clashing in armed conflict. In reality, we have much in common, but historical shifts limit us, separate us, and make us face each other only as opposition; when in fact, we are family. The question we each have to answer is who we are in the struggle.
Certain questions, you have to answer yourself. No amount of dialogue can interfere. Deep within us are the answers to questions of identity. We may all be reading from the same book, but we play different roles. Life has a way of humbling us and helping us reach our goals.
Jeff had a dilemma. His finances were not in order, but he countered this with his countless strengths, like fine art. After his sessions with Dr. Gray ended, he went to work painting on canvas an image he had seen on the internet of a young Jewish boy with his arm around his Muslim friend, who returned the gesture. The kippah and kufiyah represented their different cultures. Their backs were to the camera. They were not putting on a show. They were living life to the fullest as friends facing the sun.
Jeff felt that he and Dr. Gray had become friends. When Dr. Gray received this beautiful gift, he was touched. He stood up. His eyes brimming with tears, he poured out his faith in Jeff. “Your gift is more than repayment. It is inspiration. Not since Chagall have I seen the power of emotional context fully expressed with a hint of imperfection and mood in this magnitude.”
They both laughed. Jeff was no Chagall. Maybe more like an internet trend, Humans of the Real World. The world created in the arts complements real life. We learn to see each other on a soul-level. When we move beyond the ego, the self and stuff, we attain higher levels of existence. We enter into spiritual existence. That’s where comfort is, where rivers flow, and where we cross stepping stones. Truly, God is an ever-present help whether we feel alone or find ourselves in good company, whether we are wealthy or we run out of money. God provides for us all sustenance (rizq)—a smile, a prayer, a hand to hold, a place to stay. With courage, we too can claim, “Either I will find a way or I will make one.”
You, too, can inspire nations.
Best,
Yeru
Yerusalem Work’s “Sustenance” is a beautiful short story about a therapist and his poor client Jeff who had no way to pay his therapist; however, Jeff gave the therapist something that was more valued than money, a painting that Jeff created which was very much appreciated by his therapist. The painting was not only a valued creation as a personal gift, but its image reflected a Jewish and Muslim boy walking in embrace with arms around each other as friends. To me the story’s message was that Jews and Muslims can and should get along, because they have many beliefs and practices in common. The story also symbolizes that some gifts from the heart, the painting, are more valued than…