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We need to read stories like this to jolt us and push us to strive to be better before it's too late. Read on -
The Whore and the Priest
A Hindu priest lived across the street from a prostitute. Each day as he was going in to do his prayers and meditation, he would see men coming and going from the prostitute’s room. He would see the woman herself greeting them or bidding them farewell. Each day the priest would imagine and ponder shameful acts that were committed in the whore’s room, and his heart would fill with strong disapproval of the woman’s immorality.
Each day, the prostitute would see the priest at his spiritual practices. She would think how beautiful it must be to be so pure, to spend one’s time in prayer and meditation. “But,” she would sigh, “it is my lot to be a whore. My mother was a whore, and my daughter will be one too. Such are the ways of this land.”
The priest and the whore died on the same day and stood before Judgment together. Much to his astonishment, the priest was condemned for his wickedness.
“But,” he protested, “my life has been one of purity. I have spent my days in prayer and meditation.”
“Yes,” said Judgment, “but while your body was engaged in those holy actions, your heart was consumed with vicious judgments and your soul was ravaged by your lustful imagination.”
The whore was commended for her purity.
“I do not understand,” she said. “For all my life, I have sold my body to every man who has had the price.”
“You life’s circumstances placed you in a whorehouse. You were born there, and it was beyond your strength to do otherwise. But while your body was performing unworthy acts, your heart was always pure and forever fixed in contemplation on the purity of the holy man’s prayers and meditation.
