Idols

A Parable

Two men sat in the fiery sunset of a dying day and watched it burn starry embers into the smoke black sky. One had a face full of wrinkled time and wisdom, the other, a face still smooth with youthful passion.

The young man asked his elder; “Why don’t we cut down the largest of the trees in the forest? Some worship them as gods, but if they were destroyed, people would once again return to the true God.”

After a moment of thought, the elder replied; “But then they would worship the hills.”

“Then we should level the hills!” cried the young man.

An owl hooted in the forest nearby, a feathered shadow gliding through the dusk. The elder’s hearing was still sharp, and he heard the tiny squeak of a field mouse as the owl caught its prey. “If you level the hills,” the old man said. “Then the people would worship the birds and beasts and all the creeping things.”

“Then let us hunt them all,” pressed the young man. “They are nothing compared to the true God.”

The sun sank slowly under the horizon, leaving a coolness with its departure. A cricket chirped as it saw the moon rise above the treeline, exalting like birds do at daybreak. The old man smiled and looked up at the night sky.

“Oh, dear boy. You have forgotten there are still the stars.”

But the young man was unbeaten. “Then let us fly to the heavens and extinguish every one!” he cried passionately.

His elder sat quietly for a moment in the growing darkness.

“No trees, birds, beasts, or hills?” he said slowly. “And no stars? How are people to know there is a God at all?”