The Inheritance--The Greatest Gift

Yesterday I shared that my father often lent or gave me (and others) books. To be honest, there are some books I know were gifts, but others I suspect were lent...and I just conveniently forgot (and Dad never requested them back).

As I have received the thoughts and prayers of so many, but particularly my clergy and conference colleagues in recent days--and especially as I saw the clergy process in to Dad's service yesterday (the one moment I was most powerfully brought to tears) I was reminded of a story from one of those books Dad either gave or lent me. The book is entitled Stories for Telling, by William R. White (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1986). The story is "The Inheritance." This is one that had stuck in my mind though I haven't pulled the book out for perhaps years. When I pulled it off my office shelves this morning, I found this was the only story book marked in the book. God thing. :-)

The story (said to come from Jewish folklore) goes something like this: There once was a man with ten children who promised to give all his kids 100 gold coins on the day of his death. When the promise was made, he had great wealth and this was not an incredible commitment. However, in his last days, he fell on difficult times and he discovered he would not be able to keep that promise. 

In the day of the man's death, he called his children to him one by one, beginning with the oldest. To each he gave one bag of 100 gold coins, as promised. However, when he came to his youngest son, he was only able to give 20 coins. He explained this to the son, who asked why the father had not, then, made adjustments to the amounts for all the children. the father told the son it was better to keep the promise to as many as possible, but that in addition to those 20 coins, he would give that son his greatest treasure--his ten closest friends. The father explained these were worth more than any gold, and asked his son to be kind to them.

The father died, and the family mourned. When the time of mourning had passed, the older nine left to spend their inheritance. The youngest remained home, saddened by his situation. Though he felt little desire to do so, he decided to honor his father's wishes and reach out to those ten friends. He spent all of his inheritance to invite the friends to dinner.

The friends were impressed with the son's kindness, reflecting that he was the only child who had reached out to them. So the day after the dinner, they each sent gifts of cattle and money. The friends also helped the son care for the cattle and invest the money. Very soon, the youngest son had greater wealth than all the other siblings. Above his desk, he wrote the words, "Friendship is of more value than gold."

Now, ours has never been a family of wealth or inheritance, but it struck me, as I have been so supported and encouraged by my colleagues, that my father gave me (and my siblings) this greatest gift--the gift of friendship and of being part of an annual conference (and for me, and soon my brother Dan, the Order of Elders, and the friendship of the cool folks in the Order of Deacons). This has, and remains the greatest gift. Thank you all.