Once there was on old woman who lived in a little village in the mountains. She was not wealthy, but neither was she entirely destitute. Her most cherished possession was the wedding tunic of her husband, who had passed away some years previously. He had come originally from Lebanon,and his wedding tunic was an inheritance from his grandfather. It was of the finest green silk that had found its way to Lebanon along the Silk Road, embroidered in gold thread and red rubies that flashed in the sun. Amongst her humble possessions, it was easily the most valuable, and certainly the one she treasured most of all.
Now, her husband being dead, the old woman had little enough reason to bring the tunic out, except sometimes to look at it and think back to younger, and in many ways happier, days. But it just so happened that her youngest son had recently taken a bride, and she had insisted that he wear his father's wedding garment for the ceremony. This he did, and after the wedding he returned it to his mother, who had tears in her eyes - for her son was the very image ofhis father.
When she returned to her village, straightaway the old woman went out into her garden to clean the garment in the old wooden washtub that sat in the shade beside her cottage. She washed it with the utmost care, and when she had finished, hung it out to dry on the line she had strung between her gutter and the sycamore that grew facing the lane that passed by. Then she went inside to take her afternoon nap.
Traffic in the lane was never congested, and this afternoon only three people passed by the old woman's house. The first,a young man with dark hair, saw the green silk flashing like the leaves of the sycamore as he passed by, and he felt a sudden desire to have that lovely tunic for himself. Scanning the lane, he saw that no one was about – the old woman was sleeping, and the street was deserted. If he wanted, all he had to do was lean over the garden wall, and there would be no witnesses...
All of a sudden he caught himself."No," he said to himself, "that would be wicked of me. I don't know who lives here, but if it were me, I certainly wouldn't want anybody to steal from me. I should only do to others as I would have them do tome, as the Bible says." And he went on her way, smiling that he had overcome temptation.
Next came another young man, this one with fair hair. He saw the gold embroidery, shining like so many gold coins,and felt a sudden desire to have that lovely tunic for himself. Scanning the lane, he saw that no one was about – the old woman was still asleep, and the dark-haired young man had already turned out of the street. If he wanted, all he had to do was lean over the garden wall, and there would be no witnesses...
All of a sudden he caught himself. "No," he said to himself, "nobody would leave such a valuable object hanging there unattended. There must be some sort of trick; the owner is probably watching from the windows, to call the police the minute I take it off the line." And he went on his way, wiping his brow that he had escaped from the trap.
Finally there came a young woman carrying her own laundry. She saw the red gems, flashing like fire in the sun, but she felt no desire to have the tunic for herself, it being a man's garment. She scanned the lane and saw that no one was about – the old woman was still asleep, and the light-haired young man had already turned out of the street. Then she put her hands on her hips in indignant surprise.
"Doesn't the owner of this tunic know that just anyone could come along and steal it?" she said to herself. "This is a wicked world, full of wicked people. One shouldn't be so careless! Whoever's tunic this is, I think I'll teach him a lesson in caution..."And with that she leaned over the garden wall, removed the tunic from the line, and wrapped it surreptitiously in her own laundry. "I will return it in a few days, after the owner has had time to reflect on his foolishness." and went on her way.
The young woman had no sooner returned to her own cottage and set her washing down on the table that than she heard a knock on the door. Answering it, she found herself face-to-face with the old woman.
"Can I help you, grandmother?" the young woman asked.
"I believe you have taken something that belongs to me," her elderly counterpart said. Her voice was firm, but not angry.
Caught in the act, the young woman replied in a level voice, "I don't know what you could be talking about, grandmother." But she threw a nervous glance toward the pile of clothes on the table. Following her gaze, the old woman (who was not, of course, actually the girl's grandmother, but who she called that on account of respect for her age) did not wait for another word, but strode into the cottage and retrieved her husband's tunic from its hiding place.
"That belongs to you?" the girl asked in surprise, for it was after all a man's garment.
"It belonged to my husband," the widow answered matter-of-factly. "And you stole it from me."
The youth blushed at her neighbor's use of the past tense "belonged". "Alright, maybe I did," she said defensively, "but it was only to teach you a lesson! I was going to return it in a couple of days. You shouldn't leave valuable things like that sitting out where just anybody could up and walk away with them! This is a wicked world, full of wicked people – you, of all people, should know that by now!"
The old woman did not answer immediately, but fixed the girl with a penetrating glance. When she spoke, her voice was once again forceful, but without anger. "Perhaps," she said coolly, "if people were less concerned about teaching other people lessons and more concerned with doing the right thing, there would be less wickedness in the world." And with that she took her husband's tunic and exited the cottage without another word, leaving the young woman standing puzzled and ashamed in her wake.
