A shepherd once pastured his sheep in a field outside the city of Cordoba. He did not know how to read or write, nor could he say any prayers; no one had ever taught him. But that did not stop him from praying. The shepherd so loved God that he simply made up his own prayers out of whatever thoughts came to mind. This is how he prayed:
“God, if You had sheep, I would take care of them as if they were my own. And I would charge You only half what I charge everybody else for looking after them. And if You didn't have any money, I would take care of them for free. That's how much I love You.”
And at other times he would pray:
“God, if You were hungry and I had radishes, I would give You half my radishes. And if You were still hungry, I would give You all of them. That's how much I love You.”
He would go on like that, day or night, shouting out prayers as his heart moved him. One day a famous scholar passed by the field on his way to attend the High Holiday service at the Cordoba synagogue and chanced to overhear the shepherd saying his prayers.
“God, if You had sheep, I would take care of them as if they were my own. And I would charge You only half what I charge everybody else for looking after them. And if You didn't have any money, I would take care of them for free. That's how much I love You.”
And at other times he would pray:
“God, if You were hungry and I had radishes, I would give You half my radishes. And if You were still hungry, I would give You all of them. That's how much I love You.”
He would go on like that, day or night, shouting out prayers as his heart moved him. One day a famous scholar passed by the field on his way to attend the High Holiday service at the Cordoba synagogue and chanced to overhear the shepherd saying his prayers.
“God, if it was raining and You didn't have a hat, I’d lend You mine. And if my hat wasn't big enough to keep You dry, I'd lend You my cloak. And if that wasn't enough, I'd stand over You and let the rain fall on me. That's how much I love You. ”
“What nonsense is this!” the scholar scolded the shepherd. “Do you think that The One Who Made the heavens and the earth needs you to keep the rain off Him?”
The embarrassed shepherd did not know how to reply. “Forgive me, Rabbi. I meant no harm. I was only saying my prayers.”
“You call that idiotic twaddle ‘prayer’? What an ignoramus! Has no one ever taught you to pray properly?”
The shepherd shook his head.
“What nonsense is this!” the scholar scolded the shepherd. “Do you think that The One Who Made the heavens and the earth needs you to keep the rain off Him?”
The embarrassed shepherd did not know how to reply. “Forgive me, Rabbi. I meant no harm. I was only saying my prayers.”
“You call that idiotic twaddle ‘prayer’? What an ignoramus! Has no one ever taught you to pray properly?”
The shepherd shook his head.
“Come over to the fence. I will teach you.” The shepherd left his sheep and came over to where the scholar stood. The learned man then delivered a long lecture about the different prayers, their origin and meaning, and the prescribed order of the service. “From now on, either pray properly or don't pray at all!” he warned the shepherd. Then he continued on his way to the city.
The shepherd now faced a terrible dilemma. He had not understood a word of the scholar's lecture. Nor could he remember any of the prayers the scholar tried to teach him. Yet he was ashamed to go back to his own way of praying because he thought it was wrong. The shepherd did not know what to do, so, bewildered, he stopped praying entirely.
God's Throne stands on the highest pinnacle of heaven. Yet if a single downy feather falls from the breast of the smallest bird, God is aware of it. God hears spiders spinning their webs in dark corners, listens to bees buzzing among summer flowers and hears the gnat's whine at evening – the sounds of the world form a vast symphony whose every note God hears. Thus God knew immediately that something was missing. The shepherd who pastured his sheep outside the city of Cordoba had ceased to pray.
God summoned an angel. “My beloved servant, the shepherd of Cordoba, no longer says his beautiful prayers. He has lost his way. Go down and help him.”
The angel went down and found the shepherd in the field, sitting sadly among his sheep. “Shepherd,” the angel said, “The Holy One no longer hears your voice. Why do you no longer pray?”
The shepherd lowered his eyes. “My prayers are no good.”
The shepherd now faced a terrible dilemma. He had not understood a word of the scholar's lecture. Nor could he remember any of the prayers the scholar tried to teach him. Yet he was ashamed to go back to his own way of praying because he thought it was wrong. The shepherd did not know what to do, so, bewildered, he stopped praying entirely.
God's Throne stands on the highest pinnacle of heaven. Yet if a single downy feather falls from the breast of the smallest bird, God is aware of it. God hears spiders spinning their webs in dark corners, listens to bees buzzing among summer flowers and hears the gnat's whine at evening – the sounds of the world form a vast symphony whose every note God hears. Thus God knew immediately that something was missing. The shepherd who pastured his sheep outside the city of Cordoba had ceased to pray.
God summoned an angel. “My beloved servant, the shepherd of Cordoba, no longer says his beautiful prayers. He has lost his way. Go down and help him.”
The angel went down and found the shepherd in the field, sitting sadly among his sheep. “Shepherd,” the angel said, “The Holy One no longer hears your voice. Why do you no longer pray?”
The shepherd lowered his eyes. “My prayers are no good.”
“Who told you that?”
“A learned rabbi. He called them ‘idiotic twaddle.’”
“He is wrong. He does not know. He has never heard the Hosts of Heaven.”
“How do they pray?” the shepherd asked.
“A learned rabbi. He called them ‘idiotic twaddle.’”
“He is wrong. He does not know. He has never heard the Hosts of Heaven.”
“How do they pray?” the shepherd asked.
“I’ll show you,” the angel said. Enfolded in the angel's wings, the shepherd rose into the air. High above the clouds he flew, past the moon and stars, until he came before the Eternal Throne where choirs of angels – Ophanim, Seraphim, Cherubim – poured out choruses of prayer like waves of silver light.
“If You had sheep …” sang the Cherubim.
“If You were hungry ... “ the Ophanim replied.
And the Seraphim answered, “I'd stand over You and let the rain fall on me.”
The shepherd listened, astonished. “The Hosts of Heaven pray just like me!” he exclaimed.
“That is because, like you, they pray with a pure heart. That is the way you should pray. Always.”
The angel carried the shepherd back to his pasture. Once more the shepherd lifted his voice in joyous prayer:
“God, if You were hungry and I had radishes, I would give You all of them.”
And the Hosts of Heaven answered, “That's how much I love you.”
“If You had sheep …” sang the Cherubim.
“If You were hungry ... “ the Ophanim replied.
And the Seraphim answered, “I'd stand over You and let the rain fall on me.”
The shepherd listened, astonished. “The Hosts of Heaven pray just like me!” he exclaimed.
“That is because, like you, they pray with a pure heart. That is the way you should pray. Always.”
The angel carried the shepherd back to his pasture. Once more the shepherd lifted his voice in joyous prayer:
“God, if You were hungry and I had radishes, I would give You all of them.”
And the Hosts of Heaven answered, “That's how much I love you.”
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