Writings from Rabbi Glickman

Recently, the convergence of two great stories taught me an important lesson about the interplay of truth and legend.

The first had to do with my grandfather. Grandpa was born in 1900, and was a lifelong resident of Cleveland, Ohio. He often told us this story from his childhood:

“I was walking down the street with my boy scout troop when a big black automobile pulled up and an old man got out. He gave us each a dime, told us to spend it wisely, and left. The scout leader said ‘Boys, do you know who that was? That was John D. Rockefeller!’ I’d never heard of Rockefeller before, but back then, a dime was a lot of money, so I was excited anyway!”

My grandfather grew to become a respected attorney who, during the Depression, often represented people even when they couldn’t pay. A pious man, Grandpa attended his synagogue regularly, and always prayed a quiet prayer before eating. Certainly, his memory of the day he got a dime and some wisdom from John D. Rockefeller helped inspire him to become such an exemplary person.

You can imagine, then, how delighted I was recently when I received a thick biography of Rockefeller for my birthday - story number two. I dove into it, eagerly working toward the time of Grandpa’s “Rockefeller Encounter,” probably between 1908 and 1912.

You can also imagine my dismay when I discovered that Rockefeller had moved away from Cleveland long before Grandpa ever became a boy scout. He later returned for a couple of short visits, but it seems unlikely that the episode really unfolded the way my grandfather told it.

Was Grandpa lying? I just can’t imagine him doing so. Could it have been some other wealthy Clevelander who gave him that dime? Perhaps. Maybe a childhood fantasy somehow became a reality to Grandpa over the years. Alas, my grandfather died in the mid-80s, so I’ll probably never know.

Of course, we were all raised on fictional stories tales told to us as truths. It wasn’t until we became older that we learned that Paul Bunyan didn’t really dig the Great Lakes, that George Washington didn’t really ‘fess-up to chopping down a cherry tree, and that contrary to what Dorothy saw, the truth is that there’s really no place like Oz.

Religion, too, is replete with stories of events that probably never happened. It wasn’t until I had stopped being a kid that I learned that the evidence of the Exodus of 2 million or so Israelites from Egypt is scanty at best, that Jacob may not have actually wrestled through the night with a nameless mystery man, and that the fossil record doesn’t say a thing about Adam and Eve. Indeed, many religions are based on stories of events that simply didn’t happen that way.

Should we just dismiss these stories as fakes? Of course not! For although many of them make very poor history, they are often profoundly true anyway. Truth, you see, comes in many varieties - historical truth is only one of them. The legends of Paul Bunyan, George Washington, and the Wizard of Oz all teach us great lessons. Those lessons can be true, even if the details of the stories are not. They can impart great wisdom, and we dare not reject them as mere fluff.

Similarly, those great religious legends we have inherited from our forbears are rich in wisdom and truth. Exodus tells the epic tale of human redemption, and gives us hope for tomorrow. The story of Jacob wrestling through the night with an unnamed adversary - and then limping off into the dawn - is a universal story of human growth. That we all descend from Adam and Eve reminds us of what we share with our fellow human beings.

Some stories can be true, notes author Elie Weisel, even if they never happened. I would add that some of the truest wisdom I ever learned, I learned from fiction.

The night I realized that my grandfather and John D. Rockefeller probably never met, I closed the book with a sigh, turned out the light, and drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of my grandfather that night. We were taking a walk in the park near his home. I told him of all that has happened in my life since I last saw him, and he helped me make some sense of it. It was great to talk with him again.

Finally, I said, “Grandpa, remember that time you met John D. Rockefeller when you were a kid? Would you mind telling me that story again? It’s one of my favorites.”

He retells the tale; I embrace its truth; my life is enriched as a result.

I thank God for the wisdom that emanates from the mists of history and memory. And I thank my Grandpa, too!

[back to top]