It happened once upon a time, in a certain humble synagogue, that an elderly rabbi whose name has not been recorded in history had a glimpse of the infinite majesty of God. The Divine Hand only served him a small thimbleful, but the wine from that vineyard is so powerful that the rabbi was overwhelmed. Falling to his knees in awe, with tears streaming down his furrowed cheeks, he could only repeat over and over in a broken voice, “Lord of the Turning Heavens, Sovereign of the Angels—I am nothing…I am nothing…”

The rabbi was not alone at this moment. Also present were the cantor and the man who, for a couple of coins a week, came and swept the synagogue.

The cantor was a well-fed and pious man who respected his rabbi, though he was not, perhaps, of a mystical nature. Seeing the rabbi in such a state, he came and knelt beside him, and after watching him for a moment, began to repeat, “I am nothing…I am nothing…”—davening* as he did so to add some authenticity to his words.

The sweeper, seeing the two men kneeling in this way, dropped his broom and ran to kneel as well and repeat in a loud voice, “I am nothing! I am nothing!”

At that the cantor nudged the rabbi and said, “So—look who thinks he nothing!”

*=to move or sway gently during prayer