Hardboiled Eggs
The world is loaded with anger because of quick and unfounded judgments reached by flimsy or circumstantial evidence. What we see is not always what we get..
The world is loaded with anger because of quick and unfounded judgments reached by flimsy or circumstantial evidence. What we see is not always what we get, and often, reality is the opposite of the superficial facts that meet the eye.
The previous two chapters showed us how to make peace with God. This chapter shows how to make peace with our fellow man. By making peace, we uproot anger and neutralize the turbulence in our lives.
Imagine an innocent person unfairly tried in a kangaroo court of some tyrannical regime for a crime that he or she didn't commit. Isn't that upsetting? Often, when we hear news about an evil dictator who executes people without a fair trial, we clench our fists in frustration. We ask ourselves how such heartless individuals are allowed to walk the face of the earth.
We readily see the despotic tendencies of others. Seeing ourselves is a trickier task. During my first year in rabbinical seminary, my faculty counselor pulled a trick on me. He asked, "Lazer, would you like to see what a tyrant looks like?" I answered in the affirmative. He removed a small leather wallet from vest pocket, and said, "Look here."
I thought that my counselor was going to show me a photograph. Instead, he flashed a little passport-photo sized mirror in front of my face. I saw my own astonished image and asked, "Am I really a tyrant?"
"Of course not, Lazer, but your anger comes from tyrannical tendencies." The counselor's point went straight to my heart. From that moment on, I decided to redouble my efforts to eradicate any traces of anger in my life.
The Five Similarities between Angry People and Tyrants
While working on my own soul searching, I found five basic similarities between a tyrannical kangaroo court and a person who harbors anger against his or her fellow human.
This chapter illustrates the five points of similarity, as follows:
1. Angry people and tyrants base their judgments on superficial or circumstantial evidence.
2. Angry people and tyrants violate the principle of innocence until proven guilty. They never grant the benefit of the doubt, and therefore consider the accused party guilty until proven innocent.
3. Angry people and tyrants make judgments on the basis of insignificant or incomplete evidence. Often, they fail to consider a key fact that could completely overturn their verdicts against the accused.
4. Angry people and tyrants base their judgments on stereotypes and preconceptions, and often reach conclusions before examining the evidence.
5. Angry people and tyrants frequently project their own weaknesses, insecurity, and character flaws on others, and then arrive at mistaken conclusions accordingly.
With the help of the above five points, we arrive at a single significant conclusion: We harbor anger against our neighbors, because we fail to judge them fairly. If we were to judge our fellow man with the same understanding and lenience that we judge ourselves, all of our anger would dissipate like chaff in an October wind.
By ridding ourselves of tyrannical tendencies, we give others a fair trial in the courtroom of our mind, and thereby avoid the pitfalls of potential anger against them. Nothing improves the quality of life like an anger-free heart.
Let's take a closer look at each of the five points.
Point One: Anger based on superficial or circumstantial evidence
Hardboiled Eggs
Less than eight miles as the crow flies from Old Isaac's inn, is a little hamlet by the name of Purity Springs. Downtown Purity Springs is a two-hundred-foot-long cobblestone street with clapboard sidewalks on both sides. A small post office, a farmers' supply store, and a camping goods store are on one side of the street, and the forest ranger's office, the general store, and a skiing lodge are located on the other side. If you ever ride through Purity Springs on a fast horse or on a trail bike – and you blink – you'll miss seeing the town.
Willy Weatherbee owns and operates the general store. He is an amicable, stout little fellow in his early sixties, with a shiny bald head, wire-framed bifocals, a pencil behind his ear, and a clean white starched grocer's apron around his waist. Folks never saw Mr. Weatherbee with anything other than a pleasant smile; that is, until his fresh eggs started to disappear.
Mr. Weatherbee has a small homestead on the outskirts of the hamlet, and like many others in the area, raises chickens and grows fruit trees. He takes special pride in his laying hens, which lay a conglomerate of one hundred twenty eggs daily. Willy displays his fresh eggs on the sidewalk in front of the store, in open paper-mache cartons of a dozen eggs each.
Willy is a stickler for detail. His store is spotless, and the cans on his shelves stand at attention with the precision of a Marine Corps honor guard. At any given moment, he can quote his exact inventory, from nuts and bolts to ketchup and mayonnaise. A missing fresh egg could therefore cause him an acute case of insomnia.
By tradition, the stores in Purity Springs close down for a lunch break and siesta from one p.m. to three p.m. each afternoon. The owners don't bother to lock up, for there's never been a case of theft in the history of the hamlet. If you ever need something urgently during lunch break, just walk in the store, take what you want, and leave a signed IOU or cash payment by the cash register. Willy doesn't mind at all.
One day, Willy came back to the store after lunch break, at his usual two minutes before three o'clock. Before siesta, he had five crates of eggs left in stock. Now, the upper crate of the egg display was empty. He rushed inside the store to see if anyone left him payment for the twelve eggs, but found nothing by the cash register. His pulse quickened and his face flushed with concern – what happened to the twelve eggs? The mystery of the missing dozen eggs monopolized Willy's thoughts for the remainder of the day.
Later that evening, Mrs. Weatherbee sensed a change in her husband's usually pleasant disposition. Willy's favorite dinner of hot biscuits, chicken and dumplings, and apple delight failed to improve his somber mood. He seemed detached; his thoughts were elsewhere, certainly not at the dinner table. His fork toyed with his dinner, but he had no appetite. "What's the matter, Willy? You haven't touched a morsel!"
Willy stammered, and then looked at his wife with a Presidential state-of-emergency gravity, and declared, "Somebody stole twelve eggs today, during lunch break."
"There must be some mistake. I can't believe a thief would come to Purity Springs," his wife commented.
"I'm certainly not mistaken about a dozen disappearing eggs. Maybe the thief didn't come to Purity Springs; maybe he's here among us!"
Nothing Mrs. Weatherbee said calmed or consoled her distraught husband. Willy spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning from side to side. Not even a hot cup of his wife's lovingly prepared warm milk and honey eased his fraying nerves.
The next morning, a red-eyed Willy Weatherbee defiantly displayed a fresh ten dozen of his farm-famous eggs. As a matter of principle and tradition, he refused to lock up for lunch break, and left the display of eggs on the wooden walkway in front of the store as usual. Sure enough, when he returned at two minutes before three, another twelve eggs were missing, with no sign of either a promissory note or payment by the cash register.
Willy was furious. He began a mental survey of his neighbors. It can't be Kirk Mitchell the forest ranger, he thought, because at this time of the day, he patrols the Deer Haven area. Harvey Clarington, the postal clerk, is one of the most respectable folks I ever met, thought Willy, and an honest public servant whom I've known for forty years; it can't be him. Roger Smith, owner of the farmer supply store, has twice the hens that I do; he doesn't need my eggs. Randy Willis, owner of the camping goods store, doesn't eat any animal protein. He also doesn't sell foodstuff, so it can't be him.
One name remained on Willy's list – Dwayne Hodges. Dwayne was a relative newcomer to Purity Springs. Three short years ago, he bought the skiing lodge and the slope franchise from Bernie Beadle. Hodges, a Phys-Ed graduate from the University of Montana in Missoula, was a former member of the US Olympic skiing team. Willy never seemed to have much in common with the newcomer. Hodges, a good thirty years younger than him, was a longhaired, earring-donning product of a new generation that Willy didn't understand.
"It's definitely Hodges", huffed Weatherbee, pounding his plump pinkish fist on his oak butcher block. "The newcomer probably is serving hot fresh omelettes at the lodge, on my expense!"
Later that afternoon, Hodges entered the general store with a long list of needed supplies. Willy's adrenalin level reached dam-breaking proportions. He couldn't even look at Hodges, much less greet him with a minimal "howdy" or "good afternoon."
Hodges spent three hundred dollars on groceries and supplies; at the cash register, Willy debated whether to charge him for the missing eggs or not. He decided not to – this Hodges fellow looked leathery tough, and Willy was afraid of a violent reaction, thinking that if a person can steal, he can commit assault and battery, too. Hodges paid cash, and returned to the lodge.
For the third day in a row, another dozen eggs disappeared during lunch break. Willy was flabbergasted, and on the verge of an emotional meltdown. As Divine Providence would have it, Jerry Miller went to Purity Springs that same afternoon, to purchase some hardware articles from the general store.
At five after three, Jerry pulled up on one of his quarter horses in front of the general store. Mr. Weatherbee was outside on the store's front veranda, counting the eggs. Jerry dismounted, and smiled warmly, "Howdy, Mr. Weatherbee! It's been a while since I've seen you. How are you feeling?"
"Don't ask," he grunted over his shoulder. All of a sudden, he turned around, and his sullen countenance made an about-face. A bright look of hope lit up his eyes. "Hey, Jerry – didn't Old Isaac tell me that you were a Green Beret in Vietnam? Weren't you trained in shooting and in hand-to-hand combat?"
Jerry blushed. He never talked about his military background. Nevertheless, he answered politely, "Guilty on all three counts, Mr. Weatherbee, but a lot of water has flowed down the Mississippi River since then."
"Listen, Jerry: I'm willing to pay any amount you ask…"
Jerry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Kind Mr. Weatherbee from the Purity Springs general store wanted to put out a contract on Dwayne Hodges, the suspected thief! Jerry mumbled, "You're trying to hire me as a hit man? Has the world gone bananas? Is this Mount Patience, 1996, or the south side of Chicago, 1932? Have I been hit on the head? Are you all right, Mr. Weatherbee?"
In a gush of uncontrollable emotion, Willy poured out his troubled heart, and told Jerry all about the missing eggs and his suspicions.
"Listen carefully, Mr. Weatherbee", Jerry said as patiently as he could, "I'm not a soldier any more; I'm a simple horse farmer that loves both animals and humanity. My goal in life is to help others, not to harm them, Heaven forbid. I won't step on an ant; much less harm a fellow human. Even as a soldier, I never used force unless I was attacked or unless my life was endangered. Try to calm down. I'll testify for Dwayne Hodges. I give you a million percent guarantee that he's not a thief. Champion amateur athletes live by an honor code. Hodges wouldn't sell his honor for a dozen eggs."
"Then how do you account for my missing eggs?"
"There's got to be some other explanation. I'll tell you what – if you'll let me to use your telephone, I'll call Old Isaac and fill him in. Better yet, why don't you call him? I'm sure he'll have some good advice for you," Jerry suggested.
"Why didn't I think of that?" Willy raced to the phone by the cash register.
Willy Weatherbee phoned Isaac and told him the whole story. Isaac replied, "Listen Willy – let's try fooling the thief. When you go home tonight, boil a dozen eggs until they're good and hard, and make sure the shells aren't cracked. Tomorrow, before you go home for lunch, place the carton of the twelve hardboiled eggs on the top of the display. I promise you that we'll catch the thief within twenty four hours."
Willy was thrilled – Isaac never broke a promise to anyone. He did exactly as Isaac told him to do. That evening, he prepared twelve perfectly hardboiled eggs, and packed them in a regular egg carton. The next day, shortly before siesta time, he placed the hardboiled eggs on the top of the egg display, and skipped home for lunch with the glee of a second grader eating Crackerjacks. Like everyone else in the valley and around the mountain, Willy had complete trust in Old Isaac.
Isaac's twenty-four hour promise was fulfilled within a mere two hours. When Willy returned to the general store after lunch, at his usual two minutes before three, he found a tremendous five-foot long blacksnake, lying lifeless by the egg display. The snake, a passionate connoisseur of fresh eggs, was responsible for the previous days' theft. Once more, he swallowed the eggs whole, but this time, they were hardboiled. The snake choked to death.
Thrilled, Willy called the inn to inform Old Isaac of the good tidings. "How did you know the thief was a snake, Isaac?"
"Willy, people around here are honest, and they certainly don't need to steal eggs. Furthermore," replied Isaac with his characteristic modesty, "The Almighty solves mysteries, and He enlightens my thinking. A human thief would have taken the eggs with the carton in one fell swoop. An egg-loving animal, like a raccoon or a weasel, would have toppled the entire stack of eggs, and then eat three or four of them. Only a big snake could've swallowed whole eggs without damaging the rest of the stack, while leaving the carton behind."
Isaac was a lot less joyous than Willy was. "I'm sorry the snake had to die. Blacksnakes are beneficial to the environment. They eat rodents, and as long as a blacksnake is in the vicinity, poisonous snakes stay away." Isaac sighed, "Better a dead snake than an angry Willy, especially when the victim of your anger did you no harm."
Willy Weatherbee learned his lesson from Isaac's quiet admonition. He felt sorry for the blacksnake and even worse about his false accusations against Dwayne Hodges. Willy was thoroughly ashamed. Imagine – he was actually willing to pay money to have Hodges executed!
* * *
Moral of the Hardboiled Eggs story:
The world is loaded with anger because of quick and unfounded judgments reached by flimsy or circumstantial evidence. What we see is not always what we get, and often, reality is the opposite of the superficial facts that meet the eye.
If Willy hadn't reached a hasty conclusion, he would have seen how illogical his suspicions against Dwayne were, especially since Dwayne made an expensive cash purchase on the day of the second theft. Once people make snap judgments, they close their minds to the truth. The missing eggs could have developed into a feud that would have destroyed the wonderful tranquil atmosphere of Purity Springs. Most of the anger in the world is based on such quick, circumstantial decisions.
Willy should have called Isaac from the beginning of the stolen-egg episode. Likewise, a person who has suspicions against someone else should delay coming to mistaken conclusions, and try his best to uncover the truth. When in doubt, one should seek advice from a wise person with good discretion. A wise person knows how to judge others fairly, and can often shed light on sides of an issue that the angry individual never considers.
Once we discard our superficial and circumstantial judgments against others, we rid ourselves of anger against our fellow man. Anger is the prime barrier to inner peace. So, once we judge others fairly, we take a major stride forward on our personal trail to tranquility.
By judging others fairly, we create an environment of justice and truth, thereby making this world a much better place to live. As such, every individual has a mind-boggling potential to improve the human condition on earth.
Think about it.
To be continued . . .
(The Trail to Tranquility is available in the Breslev Store.)
Tell us what you think!
Thank you for your comment!
It will be published after approval by the Editor.