In a book titled Tales of Tzaddikim (vol 1) (A Tzaddik is Hebrew for a sage. Tzaddikim is the plural), there is a story titled “The King’s Command” (it’s supposed to be a true story). It is about Shimshon Werthheimer, the finance minister of Emperor Leopold of Austria. This happened about two hundred years ago. Werthheimer was a Jew. His advice was highly valued by the Emperor. Also, the Emperor had great trust in him. However, there was a Catholic priest who hated Werthheimer passionately. He was jealous of the great influence Werthheimer had on the Emperor. He hatched a plot to have Werthheimer executed. He told the Emperor that although he, the Emperor, had great trust in Werthheimer, he had proof that Werthheimer was actually stealing from the treasury. He said he had been able to bribe Werthheimer’s bookkeeper and had gotten hold of his books. He said, “His books indicated that his worth was such and such. Why don’t you ask him his worth? If he gives this number, you know he’s an honest man. If he gives a number much lower, you know he’s stealing from the treasury. I have such confidence that he’s actually a thief that I think you should have the furnaces ready for his execution, assuming I am proved right.” The Emperor had great trust in Werthheimer but had been taken in by the priest’s lies and saw no harm in putting Werthheimer to this test.
This priest was similar to Salieri, the priest portrayed in the movie Amadeus. Salieri was consumed by jealousy toward Mozart and did what he could to be an obstacle in Mozart’s life. Similar, but this priest was much worse.
The Emperor was furious when he heard what Werthheimer said his net worth was. He didn’t show it, but told Werthheimer to go to the furnaces and check if his command had been carried out. After he left, he sent a message to the furnace operators to throw into the furnace a person who came and asked if his command had been carried out.
On Werthheimer’s way to the furnaces, a friend accosted him and asked if he would perform a bris (a circumcision) right away. It was the 8th day since the son’s birth, and he was desperate. The Emperor did not say it was urgent, so he agreed and performed it. Then he was overcome with drowsiness and went to sleep for the night.
Meanwhile, that afternoon, the priest was gloating that his plan had worked. In order to fully enjoy the death of his enemy, he went to the furnaces and asked if the Emperor’s command had been carried out. He was immediately thrown into the furnace despite his loud protests. “You’ve got the wrong man!!” What poetic justice.
Werthheimer went to the furnaces the next morning and was assured that the priest was thrown in. He then reports this to the Emperor, who is amazed to see him. He says, “You must be very dear to God.” He asked to see his books, which proved that what the priest had said was a lie. The Emperor told the whole story and expressed incredible remorse that he doubted him. To make amends, he built a synagogue in Vienna called the Shimshon Synagogue.
I may have been that priest in a prior life, and I learned an important lesson. I was told by Ted Kopf (pronounced cough), a member of the group Agni Yoga, under Ralph Houston in the 70’s, that when one is getting close to the goal of Realization, karma fructifies very quickly. Most of the time, people have no idea why they are suffering a particular misfortune, but when one is getting close, it is quite clear. That priest had probably done much spiritual practice, but was still dogged by the demon, Jealousy. From jealousy sprouts anger, and anger clouds the mind, leading us to do unrighteous things such as bearing false witness and plotting someone’s death.
Meher Baba, in his Discourses (vol 3), says that in the interval between lives, one looks back on one’s last life and thinks about what can be learned from it. Here are my probable thoughts (the priest’s thoughts) after my (his) death in the furnace:
Lord, why did You let them kill me? Why? Why? [By God’s grace, understanding dawns] Oh, I see, out of Your love for me, You did not let me incur the sin of murder. That sin would have been on my head if my plot had succeeded. Better I should die than incur that sin. In the morning, I committed the sin of false witness. And a few hours later, the very death I was hoping to inflict on that Jew came to me. Can I truthfully say I didn’t deserve it? Of course, I deserved it. I wanted to get away with murder. Where was my faith in You, O God, and Your justice? And, all because I was consumed by jealousy of that man. I forgot the tenth commandment: ‘Thou shalt not covet what others have.’ Without a drop of self-awareness, I was allowing myself to covet the esteem in which the Emperor held Werthheimer for myself. I’m a priest. I’m supposed to be a model of humility. Instead, I wanted to be able to strut around, proud that I was the Emperor’s favorite. In truth, it’s a blessing that I -- such a fallen priest -- was removed from the face of the earth. I now understand that I will be born again. In my next life, I will try hard to never be jealous, to never tell lies, and to never wish to harm another person. This was a painful lesson, but crystal clear and totally worth it. Now that I see that death is not the end, it was good that this past life was cut short. Just think what other atrocities I would be committing if this plot had been successful. I was already a plague on the earth, and You, O God, put a stop to it. Thank you, Lord. You did right. I’m grateful. Very grateful. I want to be Your servant, not Your human plague.
Indeed, more quickly, for one approaching realization, one understands why one suffers, and it does become a covenant between the spiritual aspirant and the Lord, one which, people looking at the surface of a life, cannot understand or appreciate.