Elie Wiesel recalls that the great Rabbi Israel Shem Tov, when he saw that the Jews were being mistreated, went into the forest, lit a holy fire, and said a special prayer, asking God to protect his people.
And God sent him a miracle.
Later, his disciple Maggid de Mezritch, would go to the same part of the forest and say:
“Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the holy fire, but I do know the special prayer; hear me, please!”
The miracle always came about.
A generation passed, and Rabbi Moshe-leib of Sasov, during some dire times, went to the forest, saying:
“I don’t know how to light the holy fire, nor do I know the special prayer, but I still remember the place. Help us, Lord!”
And the Lord helped.
Fifty years later, Rabbi Israel de Rizhin, in his wheelchair, spoke to God:
“I don’t know how to light the holy fire, nor the prayer, and I can’t even find the place in the forest. All I can do is tell this story, and hope God hears me.”
And the Lord helped. ‘”
That’s why I adore storytelling; stories are how we learn. The progenitors of the world’s religions understood this, handing down our great myths and legends from generation to generation
As someone said: “The universe is made of stories, not atoms.”