Max, a sixty-year-old tailor, follows a routine that hasn't changed in forty-five years. Every day, he puts on the same threadbare clothes and sets off for his shop. Along the way, he stops in at the synagogue to pray. After working hard all day, he returns home and hands over his earnings to his wife.
Max has only one little vice. Every day, he spends a dollar on a single lottery ticket.
One day, Max comes up with a winning ticket. He arrives home with a check for a million dollars. As usual, Max hands the check to his wife. The next morning, he gets up, puts on his threadbare clothes as always, and gets ready to go to work.
His wife stops him. "Max, you've worked so hard all your life and now you have the opportunity to enjoy yourself. Go get a new suit and a massage. Take care of yourself!"
Ever-dutiful Max does exactly what his wife suggests. He gets a massage and a facial, and then spends hundreds of dollars on a beautiful new outfit. It's a complete transformation. Who would ever believe this is the same Max?
He crosses the street with his shoulders back and chest out. Just then, a car barrels down the street and runs over poor Max.
Because he has been so good throughout the years, Max takes the express lane to heaven. He gets to talk to God directly: "God, I only have one question. I have been such a good person my whole life. Always, I'm the same Max, living the same way. Finally I get to be a different kind of
guy, and you take everything away. Why?"
God pauses for a moment and says "Max, to tell you the truth, I didn't recognize you."
Many of us live our lives as though we would be happy with ourselves if . . . (just fill in the blank: More money? Obedient children? A perfect spouse? Better looks?). I know I did. As a matter of fact, this was one of my first observations about being human.
All my life, I never felt that I was good enough. My school performance, as I've mentioned, was not very good, and because of that I felt shame. And not only that, I was the younger brother of an extremely bright, attractive, popular older sister. Though I was popular enough, I always thought I was too short compared to other guys— and that bothered me. As for my shortcomings as a student, adults around me said that I was just lazy. I secretly thought that I must not be very bright—either that, or there was just something defective in me. So I never felt that I fit in with my super sister or my high-achieving friends. I secretly told myself that if I were taller, stronger, or smarter, I would be okay.
Later on, when I first began working, I told myself that if I received a great deal of professional acclaim, earned a respectable income, or married a beautiful woman,
then I would fit in. Yet after I did all of these things, I still felt I didn't fit. So I worked even harder.
After I broke my neck—when I realized that
no matter what, I would never feel like I fit in—I began to watch those people who appeared to fit in, as well as those who didn't. In my despair and loneliness, like a desperate child looking for his family, I hoped that I wasn't the only one who experienced life in the way I did.
What I observed was this: Most people appeared to be doing the same thing I had been doing—working terribly hard to become different or better.
Continued on page 2: 'When we try to change ourselves, the focus of our worldview becomes narrower.' »
