The Philosopher

Two Jewish ‘knights of the road’ were trudging wearily to the next town where they hoped to schnor something to eat. Suddenly they came upon a loaf of fresh bread which had apparently dropped from a baker’s delivery truck.

The starved pilgrims pounced upon the precious find like two birds of prey. “Break it in half and let’s start eating,” said one impatiently. The other, however, was somewhat of a philosopher, and being of an aesthetic turn of mind, protested vigorously against the unseemly haste of his colleague.

“How can you be so greedy?” he scolded. “Before we consume this heaven-sent loaf, let us feast our eyes upon it and gratify our visual and spiritual senses. Let us take note of its beauty and revel in its fragrance.”

“Bread is bread,” grumbled the pragmatic partner. “Let’s eat, I’m famished.”

“Ah, but bread is not simply bread, my uncouth friend,” replied the other. “Every object in this great universe is not single but double.”

“What’s double about this bread?”

“It has both a spiritual and a material element; a tangible and intangible aspect; the precept and the concept. So you see, we have really found not one but two loaves of bread.”

“Well, if you’re through with your speech,” said the other curtly, let’s eat.”

“Eat your share now if you wish,” suggested the aesthete, “but I’ll first take a short nap. When I’ve rested, I will then ask G-d’s blessing and enjoy my food like a civilized man.”

But when the philosopher awoke, he was astonished to find not a single crumb remaining.

“Where is my portion of the bread?” cried the good man indignantly.

“Oh, it’s around somewhere,” answered the simpleton, waving his hand airily. “You said the bread was double, so I ate mine and left the other for you.”