Nine People and a Goat this Thanksgiving?

I love a good story, and rabbis (teachers of Judaism) often have some of the best because they usually have a little twist in telling the truth, like the one about the nine men and a goat. 

In his book How to be Decadent, journalist George Mikes has this version: a man comes to a wise rabbi in Budapest and complains, “Life is unbearable. There are nine of us living in one room. What can I do?”

The rabbi answers, “Take your goat into the room with you.”  The man is skeptical, but the rabbi insists. “Do as I say and come back in a week.”

A week later, the man returns looking more troubled than before. “We cannot stand it,” he tells the rabbi. “The goat is filthy.” 

The rabbi tells him, “Go home and let the goat out. And come back in a week.”  

The man returns to the rabbi a week later, exclaiming, “Life is beautiful. We enjoy every minute now that there’s no goat — only the nine of us.”

Being grateful is a matter of perspective. We can wake up in a mood as foul as a smelly goat, put on our eyeglasses smudged with cynicism, and pour our morning coffee cup to the brim with negativity before we ever step out the door. 

Everything appears worse when we live under the circumstances: appearance becomes our reality. Our days grow into affirmations of what we watched on the news the night before. The world is going to hell, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. We are Eeyore, “The sky has fallen. Always knew it would.”

It is possible to reverse that image. Before our feet hit the floor, we have the incredible privilege of choice. We can choose to find the good, even in the bad. It doesn’t mean we pretend the bad is good, evil is pure, the guilty are innocent, or we don’t flee danger when necessary. It only means that we still search for meaning in the pain, misery, and loss that is so much a part of this imperfect life.

Even when all seems lost, we can recall that God is still in the messiest of messes, whether we made the mess or someone else did it for us. The psalmist wrote, “My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever” (Psalm 73:6). 

Whether the author of that Psalm made wrong choices that hastened his ill health or his sickness was unrelated to anything he had done, he is nonetheless grateful that God is in it with him.

I don’t feel like going as I pack to travel to Oklahoma this week; I’m not looking forward to this trip. It’s no fun seeing my once healthy and vibrant older brother now confined to a wheelchair, suffering from ALS.

But I have a choice: I can complain about the early morning flight to Oklahoma, the two-hour-and-a-half drive to my brother’s, and the more pleasurable time I imagine I could have had if I had stayed home.

Or, I can thank God that I have a flight reserved, a loving wife who will travel with me, a car to drive once I arrive, and most of all, the possibility of precious moments with my brother.

Tears sting my eyes at the thought of another loved one dying, tempting me with fear because I don’t want to suffer another loss. And that very thought carries the guilt of even entertaining such feelings amidst others’ seemingly insurmountable pain.

But I can thank the Lord that this Thanksgiving season, I have an opportunity to sit with someone who is hurting; I can be grateful for my health; and I can praise God that my family and work that I love are waiting for me when I return.

It sounds trite, but it’s true: gratitude begins with attitude. 

If you don’t believe me, ask the guy living with nine people and a goat.