The nature of true spirituality

The following is adapted  from one of Anthony de Mello’s stories.....  

A monk was walking by the river considering the nature of true holiness.

He was a devout man who kept his faith with a passion, and considered it his duty to address those frailties he detected in himself and others. He studied and prayed very hard so that he should become as Christ like as possible. 

As he walked by the river, saying his prayers, he heard floating across the river the holiest of the prayers of his order. But the prayer disturbed the holy man. Whoever was saying these prayers had failed to learn them correctly. The words were in the wrong order.

At this opportunity to serve a misguided worshipper the monk hired a rowing boat and set out across the river to find the man who was mangling such holy and beautiful words. As he was paddling across the lapping wavelets and negotiating the currents his mind wandered to a curious phenomenon of holiness that he himself had never had the opportunity to witness. He considered that one would have to reach a very high level of holiness indeed to achieve the art of walking across water as Jesus had. Perhaps if he were to attain greater holiness and perform acts similar to the one he was even now engaging in, to wit the correction of a misguided individual who had not taken sufficient trouble to learn his prayers correctly, he might some day reach a level of faith sufficient to traverse the waves on foot. 

The mangled opening of the prayer broke through once again into his consciousness, disturbing his meditations on holiness and its higher manifestations. The sound was coming from an island in the middle of the river. He drew up to a small jetty and moored his boat, and walked up a short gravel path. Inside a small and simple cave he was much surprised to find another monk of his order praying.

 “Brother,” said the perspiring rower, “I have taken the trouble to row all the way across the river to draw your attention to the fact that you are mis-saying your prayers.” 

“Thank you,” said the monk, “I was afraid that might be the case and am most grateful to you for the trouble you have gone to in order to correct me. Would you repeat once again the correct form so that I may follow the more perfect path? ” The monk offered again the correct version and then returned to his boat.

As he paddled back across the river he reflected on his duty to restore order to a misguided world. Acts such as this were indeed a sign that he was on the true path to godliness. 

He was much surprised to be disturbed in his meditations on holiness by a voice calling to him. “Wait a moment good sir,” came the voice across the waves. Looking up he saw his brother monk walking rapidly across the water towards him.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you again, but I’m afraid my memory is not all it used to be. Could you remind me one more time how the prayer should be said.”

Numbly, the rower repeated the prayer in its correct version. 

“Thank you so much. May your good deed be richly rewarded.” And so saying the monk turned and walked lightly back across the water to his island in the river.

John