In the years before World War II, in a little Polish village, a learned rabbi used to teach his students, “Life is like the ocean.” And they would nod and respond, “Yes, life is like the ocean.”
One young student was particularly taken with this philosophy, and he carried it with him through the long years of the war, which he barely survived.
Later becoming a rabbi in his own right, he moved to Philadelphia, and taught all his eager young students, “Life is like the ocean.”
Year after year, “Life is like the ocean.” And they would nod and respond, “Yes, life is like the ocean.”
One year, though, a student asked, “But Rabbi, why is life like the ocean?” And the rabbi had no answer.
Why is life like the ocean? The question haunted him. It plagued him so much that eventually he returned to his home village, hoping against hope to find his teacher still alive.
Incredibly, the rabbi had survived the war, though now was quite old and in fact lay on his death bed when the young man arrived. He knelt by the old rabbi’s side and entreated, “Rabbi, Rabbi, why is life like the ocean?”
The old man looked at him through watery eyes and replied, “Okay, so life isn’t like the ocean.”
