In the previous post, I described and summarized the Katha Upanishad – an ancient Sanskrit text that imparts the “facts of life” via a conversation between a precocious lad named Nachiketas and Yama, the God of Death. This time I’d like to summarize another conversation with Death – a very different conversation, but one that I greatly cherish. The author? None other than Leo Tolstoy. The story? What Men Live By. In brief, it runs as follows:
Simon was a shoemaker. A man of humble means, he lived with his wife and children in a peasant’s hut and earned his living by his craft. They were so poor that they had one sheepskin winter coat that had to be shared between him and his wife. Late one autumn he was able to cobble together a few rubles and proceeded to go to the village to collect some money owed by a few of his customers in order to buy the sheepskins for a new coat. Unfortunately, Simon was unable to collect all the money owed to him and the sheepskin seller refused to sell the skins on credit.
Crestfallen, Simon bought some vodka, drank it, and started his way back home, no longer feeling the cold, and talked to himself about how hard money is to come by.
At a bend in the road there was a small shrine. As he approached it, Simon saw something whitish in colour behind the shrine. It was now dusk and Simon could not clearly make out what it was. “There was no white stone there before,” he said to himself, “nor is in an ox. It seems to have the head of a man, but it is too white – besides, what would a man be doing there?”
As he approached the shrine, Simon could see that, indeed, it was a man, naked and leaning against the shrine. But the man was not moving: was he alive or dead? The shoemaker’s first reaction was fear, thinking that a man has been killed and stripped naked, and if he were to linger, he may be accused of the crime.
Simon turned and continued his way home. He passed in front of the shrine so that he could not see the naked man. After walking some distance, Simon looked back: the man was no longer leaning against the shrine, but was looking towards him. This made the shoemaker even more frightened and he hurried on his way – that was, until his conscience smote him.
“What are you doing, Simon?” he asked himself. “This man may be dying of want, but you slip past afraid. Have you grown so rich as to be afraid of robbers? Ah, Simon, shame on you!”
So, Simon turned back and went to the man by the shrine. As he approached the stranger, he saw that he was a young man, physically fit, with no bruises or cuts on his body, but clearly freezing and frightened. The man did not raise his head or look at Simon. But when Simon approached him, the man opened his eyes and looked into Simon’s face – that look was enough for Simon to desire to help him. Taking off his cloth coat, Simon put it around the strange man’s shoulders and helped him put his arms into the sleeves and tied the sash around his waist. He also put felt boots, which had been given him to repair, on the stranger’s feet.
The man looked kindly at Simon but did not say a word. They started walking together. Simon started up a conversation with the stranger.
“Where did you come from?”
“I’m not from these parts.”
“I thought as much; I know everyone in the area. But how did you come to be there by the shrine?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Has someone been ill-treating you?”
“No one has ill-treated me. God has punished me.”
“Of course, God rules all. Still, you need to find food and shelter somewhere. Where do you want to go?”
“It is all the same to me.”
Simon was amazed by these responses, but he gave the man the benefit of the doubt. He said to the stranger, “Well, then, come home with me and at least warm yourself awhile.”
As soon as Simon got home with the stranger, his wife, Matrëna, was very suspicious and upset. Simon tried his best to explain the strange situation to her, but she was angry. Harsh words rose to Matrëna’s lips, but she looked at the stranger and was silent. He sat on the edge of the bench, motionless, hands on his knees, head drooping on his breast and his eyes closed with a look of pain on his brows. Matrëna was silent; Simon said to her, “Matrëna, have you no love of God?”
As soon as Matrëna heard these words, and she looked again at the stranger, her heart softened towards him. She served soup and bread to Simon and the stranger. She looked intently at him and began to feel fond of him. At once, the stranger’s face lit up, and he raised his eyes to her and smiled.
After dinner, Matrëna gave the stranger an old shirt and a pair of trousers and directed him to the loft to sleep in.
In the morning, when Simon woke up, he saw that the strange man was already awake, sitting on the bench and looking upwards. He started up a conversation with the stranger.
“Well, friend, the belly wants bread and the naked body needs clothes. One has to work for a living. What work do you know?”
“I do not know any.”
“Men who want to learn can learn anything.”
“Men work and I will work also.”
“What is your name?”
“Michael.”
“Well, Michael, if you will work as I tell you, I will give you food and shelter.”
“May God reward you! I will learn. Show me what to do.”
And so, Simon taught Michael the art and science of shoe making. Michael learned very quickly and within three days he worked as if he had made boots all his life. He worked without stopping and ate little. Whenever he finished his work, Michael would sit silently, looking upwards. The man spoke only when necessary, and neither joked nor laughed. He also never smiled – except for the one time when he smiled at Matrëna when she offered him dinner.
A year passed by. Simon’s customers were impressed by the flawless work of his apprentice, Michael, and their fame spread quickly.
One winter day, their hut was visited by a rich gentleman. The man was huge and exceptionally healthy and fit. As he entered the hut, the gentleman’s head nearly reached the ceiling.
“Which one of you is the master bootmaker?” the gentleman asked.
“I am, your Excellency,” replied Simon.
The gentleman asked his servant to bring a package in and unwrap it. Inside was the finest leather that Simon had ever set eyes on. The gentleman then asked Simon if he will make boots out of the leather under the condition that they will neither lose shape nor come unsewn for a year – and if these conditions are not met, he will get Simon thrown into jail. Simon hesitated to reply, but looked over at Michael, who nodded as if to say “yes.”
They took the measure of the gentleman’s feet and calves.
“Whom have you there?” asked the gentleman, looking at Michael.
“That is my workman. He will sew the boots.”
“Mind you,” said the gentleman to Michael, “remember to make them so that they will last me a year.”
Michael was not looking at the gentleman but was gazing into the corner of the room behind the gentleman, as if he saw someone there. Michael kept on looking, and then he suddenly smiled, his face becoming brighter.
The gentleman took his leave, put on his fur coat and went to the door. But he forgot to stoop and struck his head on the lintel. The gentleman swore and rubbed his head. He then sat in his carriage and drove away.
The next day, Michael set to work, cutting the fine leather and sewing it without break. When Simon rose for dinner, he inspected Michael’s work but was shocked to see that instead of making boots, Michael had made slippers!
He said to Michael, “What are you doing, friend? You have ruined me! You know the gentleman ordered high boots but see what you have made!”
A moment later, there was a rapping on the door of the hut. Simon opened the door, and there stood the gentleman’s servant, who had come on a horse. He explained that he had been sent by his mistress as the gentleman had died in the carriage on the way home the previous day and she was requesting that the leather be used to make slippers for the corpse rather than high boots. Simon gathered the finished slippers and the remaining leather and handed it all to the surprised servant, who took his leave.
Years passed; Michael was now in his sixth year living with Simon. Like before, Michael worked hard, spoke only when necessary, and did not go anywhere. He still had smiled only twice in all his time living with Simon and his family. One day a new customer visited them: a woman accompanied by two girls who looked identical – except that one had a twisted left leg. After being invited in and sat down, the woman said that she wanted leather shoes to be made for both girls for the spring. When praising Michael’s work, Simon looked over at Michael and was surprised to see that instead of being focused on his work at hand, Michael was sitting with his eyes transfixed on the two girls. Simon found this to be very odd.
While measuring the girls’ feet, Simon struck up a conversation with the woman.
“How is it one of the girls is lame? Was she born this way?”
“No, her mother crushed her leg,” was the reply.
Curious, Matrëna, then joined in the conversation. “Are you not their mother, then?”
“No, my good woman; I am not their mother, I adopted them.”
“They are not your children and yet you are so fond of them?”
“How can I not be fond of them? I fed both of them at my own breasts. I had a child of my own, but God took him.”
“Then whose children are they?”
The woman then told the story of the girls. Six years ago, when they were infants, both their parents died within days of each other: the father three days before they were born, and the mother died giving them birth. When dying, the mother had rolled over and crushed the leg of one of the newborns. Nearby peasants decided that the one woman who was nursing a baby at the time adopt the two girls – and I was that woman. And so, it came to be.
On hearing this, Matrëna said, “The proverb is true that says, ‘One may live without father or mother, but one cannot live without God.’”
As they were talking, suddenly the whole hut lit up as if by summer sunshine from where Michael was sitting. Everybody looked towards him and saw him sitting, his hands folded on his knees, gazing upwards and smiling.
As soon as the lady left with the two girls, Michael rose from the bench, put down his work and took off his apron. Bowing low to Simon and his wife, Michael said, “Farewell, masters. God has forgiven me. I ask for your forgiveness, too, for anything that I have done amiss.”
Seeing the light shining from Michael, Simon rose, bowed down to him, and said, “I see, Michael, that you are no common man, and I can neither keep you nor question you. Only please tell me this: how is it that when I found you and brought you home, you were gloomy, and when my wife gave you food you smiled at her and became brighter? Then when the rich gentleman came to order the boots, you smiled and became brighter still? And now, when this woman brought the little girls, you smiled a third time and have become as bright as day? Tell me, Michael, why does your face shine so and why did you smile those three times?”
Michael replied, “Light shines from me because I had been punished, but now God has pardoned me. And I smiled three times because God sent me to learn three truths – and I have learned them.
Simon asked, “What did God punish you for?”
Michael replied, “God punished me for disobeying Him. I was an angel in Heaven. God sent me to fetch a woman’s soul. I flew to Earth and saw a sick woman lying alone who had just given birth to twin girls. When she saw me, she understood that God had sent me for her soul; she wept and said, “Angel of God! My husband has just been buried, killed by a falling tree. I have neither sister, nor aunt, nor mother: no one is there to care for my babies. Do not take my soul! Let me nurse my babes, feed them, and set them on their feet before I die. Children cannot live without mother or father.” And I hearkened to her. I placed one child at her breast and gave the other into her arms and returned to the Lord in Heaven.
“I flew to the Lord and said, ‘I could not take the soul of the mother. Her husband was killed by a tree; the woman has twins and prayed that her soul may not be taken.’ And God said, ‘Go and take the woman’s soul and learn three truths: learn what dwells in man; learn what is not given to man, and learn what men live by. When you have learned these things, you shall return to Heaven.’” So, I flew again to Earth and took the mother’s soul. As she died, the woman rolled over on the bed and crushed one babe, twisting its leg. I rose above the village, wishing to take her soul to God, but a wind seized me and my wings dropped off. Her soul rose alone to God, while I fell to Earth by the roadside.”
Simon and Matrëna now understood who it was that had lived with them and whom they had clothed and fed. And they wept with awe and joy.
Michael continued, “I tell you now that I have learned the three truths that I was commanded to; and when I learned each one, I smiled. The first truth I learned when your wife pitied me and that is why I smiled. The second truth I learned when the rich man ordered the boots, and then I smiled again. And now, when I saw those little girls, I learned the third and last truth and I smiled the third time.
“When I was first brought home, the wife wished to drive me out into the cold – and I knew that if she did so she would die. But suddenly the husband spoke to her of God, and the woman changed at once. And when she brought me food and looked at me, I glanced at her and saw that death no longer dwelt in her; she had become alive, and in her too I saw God. Then I remembered the first lesson that I was to learn: what dwells in man – and I understood that what dwells in man is love!
“A year later, when the rich gentleman came to order the boots, I looked at him and saw, behind his shoulder, my comrade – the Angel of Death. Only I saw him, but I knew that before the sun will set, he would take that rich man’s soul. And I remembered God’s second saying – learn what is not given to man. I realized that it is not given to man to know his own needs. I smiled for the second time, having seen my comrade angel and glad that God had revealed to me the second truth.
“In the sixth year came the girl-twins and the woman; I recognized the girls and heard how they had been kept alive. And when the woman showed her love for the adopted children and wept over them, I saw in her the living God, I understood what men live by. And I knew that God had revealed to me the last lesson – what men live by – and had forgiven my sin. And then I smiled for the third time.”
At this point the angel Michael’s body was bared, and he was clothed in light so bright that the eye could not look on him; and his voice grew louder, as though it came not from him but from Heaven above.
The angel said, “I have learned that all men live not by care for themselves, but by love. It was not given to the mother to know what her children needed for their lives. Nor was it given to the rich gentleman to know what he himself needed. Nor is it given to any man to know whether, when evening comes, he will need boots for his body or slippers for his corpse.
“I remained alive when I was a man, not by care of myself but because love was present in a passer-by, and because he and his wife pitied and loved me. The orphans remained alive not because of their mother’s care, but because there was love in the heart of a woman – a stranger to them – who pitied and loved them. And all men live not by the thought they spend on their own welfare, but because love exists in man.
“I already knew that God gave life to men and that He desires that they should live; now I understood more than that. I understood that God does not wish men to live apart, and therefore He does not reveal to them what each one needs for himself; but he wishes them to live united and therefore reveals to each of them what is necessary for all.
“I have now understood that though it seems to men that they live by care for themselves, in truth it is love alone by which they live. He who has love, is in God; and God is in him, for God is love.”
Then the angel sang praise of God, so that the hut trembled at his voice. The roof opened up and a column of fire rose from Earth to Heaven. Simon and his wife and children fell to the ground. Wings appeared upon the angel’s shoulders, and he rose into the heavens.
And when Simon came to himself the hut stood as before and there was no one in it but his own family.
As usual, Tolstoy anchors this short story with scripture. The verse which inspired this wonderful story is: We know that we have passed out of death until life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not abideth in death. (1 Epistle St. John, iii, 14)
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degringolade
Welcome to Frugal First Friday! T
We are now well into the fifth year of these open posts. When I first posted 
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I'm very pleased to announce that the fourth Ariel Moravec occult detective novel, The House of the Crows, is now available for preorder.
We are now into the fifth year of these open posts. When I first posted 
