Once upon a time, maybe even today, there was a place called
Musser. Musser was a picturesque town surrounded by lakes and
mountains and boasted a modern city center where most of its
inhabitants worked and small neighborhoods around it where
most of its inhabitants inhabited. The people of the town
were civil to one another, often friendly, but most of them
kept to themselves except, of course, when they were telling
others what they were doing wrong and how to change for the
better.
To their merit, they had learned long ago how to prevent
discord. They just nodded their heads sagely and accepted the
rebuke until they met up with someone else to whom they
offered constructive suggestions. Any topic was ripe for
discussion so long, of course, as it was lesheim
Shomayim and, of course, it always was.
Unfortunately, no rabbi had survived Musser for more than a
few months. He was supposed to be their spiritual leader but
instead, he found himself the subject of contention and
loshon hora. None of the townspeople understood why
they couldn't find a decent rabbi worthy of the post.
Actually, that was the one thing all the citizens agreed upon
wholeheartedly.
The inhabitants of Musser unfortunately had developed some
psychological and physical symptoms of late. Some people
tended to be very guarded, constantly looking over their
shoulders and askance. Others behaved defensively and seemed
ready to justify themselves if someone so much as wished them
a "Good morning!" Still others had developed obsessive
compulsive disorder. Physical malaise soon followed.
Hypertension, high blood pressure, ulcers and all sorts of
stomach problems manifested themselves. The people feared an
epidemic. The town's doctor was stumped. He decided to call
in a specialist from the big city, a friend of his from
medical school. He invited him to combine it with a vacation
in the relaxing ambience and beautiful scenery of the
town.
His friend, Professor Moach, wondered to himself, when he
received the letter, how relaxing the town could be if
everyone there was demonstrating signs of stress, but he
missed his old friend and decided he'd go for a couple of
days. Maybe he would get a paper for publication out of
it.
And so, on a bright spring morning, the doctor set out. He
arrived at lunchtime and the two friends sat down to catch up
over a pleasant meal. When both men were sated and the
Professor had rested, his friend asked, "So, when will you be
ready to start receiving patients?"
"Perhaps tomorrow," he answered. "I want to look around a
bit."
And so the good Professor changed into some casual clothes
and began strolling around the town. Indeed, the scenery was
breathtaking and the air seemed... tense actually. There was
something in the atmosphere besides the smell of pine trees
which aroused in him a feeling of anxiety.
He frowned and wandered over to where a couple of people were
having a conversation. Actually, it was less like a
conversation and more like one lecturing the other. As he
approached, they turned to look at him. He smiled. They
smiled back but it wasn't a welcoming smile. it was more of a
polite, appraising smile.
He turned to continue on his way and as he did, he thought he
heard them remarking to each other on his strange clothes and
inappropriate behavior. He decided he'd buy a newspaper. As
he sat down to read on a bench, he was surprised that instead
of the usual politcal scandals and banal news and
advertisements, there were a lot of notices which clearly
constituted loshon hora. There was some fine print
that stated that since this was for the benefit of the
greater good, so that people wouldn't stumble, it was
leto'eles and would surely have had the approval of
the town's rabbi, had there been one.
Professor Moach folded the paper and decided he'd do some
shopping. He looked around and entered a gift shop. The
shopkeeper was a lot friendlier than the people on the
street. That might be because she wanted customers.
"Hello," said the professor. "I'm here visiting a friend and
I thought I'd buy some gifts for the family."
She began making suggestions and Professor Moach chose a few
items. By way of conversation, she asked, "Whom are you
visiting?"
"Dr. Morrison."
"Oh," she said, her smile fading.
"Is something wrong?"
"Well, I'm not one to judge but you know, there's been a near
epidemic in this town and he hasn't been able to do anything
about it. I, myself, suffer from frequent headaches."
"Oh," said the doctor, non-commitally.
"Well, you know what I think?"
The professor was sure he was about to find out.
"I think Dr. Morrison has been unsuccessful because of the
company he keeps. I've seen him socializing with types that
are, well, not really acceptable in our circles, if you know
what I mean."
He was beginning to. "And what exactly does this have to do
with diagnosing patients?" he asked, trying to keep his voice
even.
"Well," she whispered conspiratorily, "everyone knows that
the power to heal really comes from Hashem. Do you really
think He would give that power to someone who is behaving
unacceptably?" She wrapped the last package and added, "Will
that be all?"
"Quite enough," he answered briskly.
Professor Moach walked down the street, deep in thought,
feeling just ready for some afternoon tea. Only, along with
the hunger pangs, he was also feeling a tightness in his
stomach and a queasiness, besides.
"Right!" he suddenly said to himself aloud, which caused a
few passersby to turn and stare and whisper to one
another.
"Well, I've made my diagnosis," he announced as he entered
his friend's home.
"But you haven't even seen any patients."
"Oh, yes, I have seen quite a number and you were right, it
is, indeed, an epidemic."
"R-r-really?" sputtered the doctor. "So... so what is it?"
"Every single one of the residents in this town," he said
confidentially, "seems to be in the advanced stages of self-
righteousness, which, when it comes into contact with others,
causes one to present symptoms of distress which, if left
untreated, can develop into a number of psychosomatic
illnesses."
"Well, what's the antidote?" asked Dr. Morrison warily.
At this, the professor sighed, shrugged, and sat down heavily
in a chair.
"Humility, perhaps. But that isn't something one can buy in a
drugstore."
"No, I suppose it isn't," agreed his colleague.
The two doctors passed the evening companionably and after a
restless night, Dr. Moach bid his friend farewell and
returned home, glad to get away from the unpleasant town.
The very next day, Dr. Morrison called a meeting at the town
hall, said the Rambam's Physician's Prayer with heartfelt
sincerity, and told all those who had gathered the diagnosis
of the Professor who had, unbeknown to them, examined
them.
There was a deafening silence that greeted his remarks. After
a moment, it erupted into a roar of indignation. A week
later, Dr. Morrison left the town in disgrace to join his
friend in the city.
Once upon a time, maybe even today, there was a town called
Musser.
