I meant to blog this a while ago. I found my lost file!
It was hiding in a second 'My Documents' that had been cloned on to the system where I had obviously saved it by mistake.
The Kingdom of God is like this. A man had all his other files accounted for, but had lost one. He hunted high and low for it, and then he found it. He said to his (desk) neighbours 'Truly it is time for rejoicing, for I thought this file was irretrievably lost, but I have found it! Come celebrate with me.'
So they had a cup of tea.
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Saturday, December 04, 2010
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
The parable of the 100 Euro Note
A Lesson in Economics, sent to me by a friend.
It is the month of August, on the shores of the Black Sea. It is raining, and the little town looks totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.
Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town. He enters the only hotel, lays a 100 Euro note on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to choose one.
The hotel proprietor takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the butcher.
The butcher takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the pig farmer.
The pig farmer takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of pig-feed and tractor fuel.
The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the town prostitute who, in these hard times, gave her "services" on credit.
The prostitute runs to the hotel, and gives the 100 Euro note to the hotel proprietor to pay her debt for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there.
The hotel proprietor then lays the 100 Euro note back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.
At that moment, the tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes his 100 Euro note, after saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town.
No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism...
It is the month of August, on the shores of the Black Sea. It is raining, and the little town looks totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.
Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town. He enters the only hotel, lays a 100 Euro note on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to choose one.
The hotel proprietor takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the butcher.
The butcher takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the pig farmer.
The pig farmer takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of pig-feed and tractor fuel.
The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the town prostitute who, in these hard times, gave her "services" on credit.
The prostitute runs to the hotel, and gives the 100 Euro note to the hotel proprietor to pay her debt for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there.
The hotel proprietor then lays the 100 Euro note back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.
At that moment, the tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes his 100 Euro note, after saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town.
No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism...
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Fable/Parable about Power
Once a small group of powerful men ruled over a kingdom. They determined what the people should say to outsiders, and how the people should present themselves. And the people chafed under the authority and the control of the rulers.
Then the people were set free. The ruling party were removed from office and were told "Now, you will serve us, and no longer tell us what we can wear, and how we can act, and what words we can use." And the former rulers had to accept the decision of the people.
But before long, the people began to realise they had no understanding of fashion, or of decorous language, and they realised that the outside world was large and sophisticated, and unless they spoke a certain way, or dressed in appropriate attire, they would be dismissed as ignorant peasants from a backwoods country.
So they began to ask their former rulers for advice on how to speak, and how to dress, and where to travel, and who to address in the outside world. And the former rulers advised them on all these things to the point where it appeared indeed that the word of the rulers still ruled, except now they ruled because the people demanded their words and paid close heed to them.
Then the people were set free. The ruling party were removed from office and were told "Now, you will serve us, and no longer tell us what we can wear, and how we can act, and what words we can use." And the former rulers had to accept the decision of the people.
But before long, the people began to realise they had no understanding of fashion, or of decorous language, and they realised that the outside world was large and sophisticated, and unless they spoke a certain way, or dressed in appropriate attire, they would be dismissed as ignorant peasants from a backwoods country.
So they began to ask their former rulers for advice on how to speak, and how to dress, and where to travel, and who to address in the outside world. And the former rulers advised them on all these things to the point where it appeared indeed that the word of the rulers still ruled, except now they ruled because the people demanded their words and paid close heed to them.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Guidance seeker
A Parable
A man was in a drinking establishment with a friend complaining about his job. He said: "I'm fed up. No one has any respect for the work I do. I've poured my energy into every project I'm given, but when they moved my department round I got ranked below everyone else. The atmosphere has changed recently too. We used to be a team, pulling together; now everyone feels nervous and edgy with each other. I've seen friends who were shown the door after years of loyal service and I wonder if I'm going to be next. I know I could earn more money somewhere else and be just as happy, or at least no more miserable. I feel like I'm wasting my life and all my achievements add up to nothing..."
His friend nodded, then said: "Well, why don't you look for another job then?"
The man shrugged and said: "Well, you know, it's not that easy. I'm a god-fearer and I really can't just change my job without guidance from above."
His friend looked puzzled for a moment: "Guidance from above?" he asked.
"Yes," said the man. "Some kind of sign that I'm in the wrong place and I ought to move on."
There was a long pause and they both sipped at their drinks. Eventually the man's friend said: "I guess you're right to wait for a sign. Just because you're unappreciated, undervalued, underpaid, unhappy, and you're worried about the future and whether you'll ever make your mark in the world doesn't mean you should take matters into your own hands. But just out of interest, what kind of sign are you looking for?"
A man was in a drinking establishment with a friend complaining about his job. He said: "I'm fed up. No one has any respect for the work I do. I've poured my energy into every project I'm given, but when they moved my department round I got ranked below everyone else. The atmosphere has changed recently too. We used to be a team, pulling together; now everyone feels nervous and edgy with each other. I've seen friends who were shown the door after years of loyal service and I wonder if I'm going to be next. I know I could earn more money somewhere else and be just as happy, or at least no more miserable. I feel like I'm wasting my life and all my achievements add up to nothing..."
His friend nodded, then said: "Well, why don't you look for another job then?"
The man shrugged and said: "Well, you know, it's not that easy. I'm a god-fearer and I really can't just change my job without guidance from above."
His friend looked puzzled for a moment: "Guidance from above?" he asked.
"Yes," said the man. "Some kind of sign that I'm in the wrong place and I ought to move on."
There was a long pause and they both sipped at their drinks. Eventually the man's friend said: "I guess you're right to wait for a sign. Just because you're unappreciated, undervalued, underpaid, unhappy, and you're worried about the future and whether you'll ever make your mark in the world doesn't mean you should take matters into your own hands. But just out of interest, what kind of sign are you looking for?"
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The parable of the bridge
In the depths of the valley, the tribe of little people lived under the bridge.
It was comfortable under there – nice and dry, with water nearby. Everybody pretty much agreed life under the bridge was almost perfect. In fact, no one could imagine what life was like away from the safety and the shelter of the bridge.
One or two members of the tribe had wandered out. The ones who came back said it was horrible out there. They’d felt lost and alone, ended up dirty and worn out, and so had come back to the safety of life under the bridge. Now they could wash themselves clean, rest, and recover from their ordeals in the loving company of their tribe family.
Some little people who wandered away never came back. The elders of the tribe muttered darkly that the wanderers had died, or gotten so lost they could never return. They issued dire warnings to anyone who even thought about leaving the safety of the bridge. “Be careful!” they said. “The bridge is what we know. The bridge is the only place where you can be safe. The bridge is the perfect place for us to live.”
Generations passed and, with each new generation, the younger members of the tribe would grow accustomed to the warnings of the elders, and start to wander out from under the bridge in curiosity. The elders’ warnings grew direr. They spoke of hideous monsters waiting to devour any who ventured away from the safety of the bridge. They spoke of torments and ravenings, of the madness and misery that awaited any who ventured away from the safety of the bridge.
The tribe of little people grew afraid to even think of leaving the safety of the bridge. If any thought such an unthinkable thing, they were loath to admit to it, and the very few who admitted to it were hushed by their family and clan members. Soon it was taboo to even admit there was a world other than under the bridge.
But there was one young member of the tribe, called Sprog. He wasn’t the tallest warrior, or fastest runner, or the cleverest artisan. His teachers used to call him the daydreamer, because he always seemed to be thinking about something he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
One day Sprog went to see the elders. Standing in their Circle he addressed his supplication to Vinder, the wisest and most wizened of the tribal elders. “Excuse me, elder,” said Sprog politely. It took Vinder a while to realise Sprog was talking to him because he was profoundly deaf. Eventually he said ‘Eh? What d’you want, lad?”
“I want to ask a question,” said Sprog.
“Go ahead,” said Vinder.
“We live under this bridge,” began Sprog. “And you elders tell us this is all we know, and this is the place where we’re safe and so we must never leave it…”
“Yes,” said Vinder.
“But, I’ve been thinking. When we build a bridge across one of the little streams, we walk across it. So, if this is a bridge like our bridges, it wasn’t built for living under, it was built for walking across.”
The elders were silent for a very long time.
It was comfortable under there – nice and dry, with water nearby. Everybody pretty much agreed life under the bridge was almost perfect. In fact, no one could imagine what life was like away from the safety and the shelter of the bridge.
One or two members of the tribe had wandered out. The ones who came back said it was horrible out there. They’d felt lost and alone, ended up dirty and worn out, and so had come back to the safety of life under the bridge. Now they could wash themselves clean, rest, and recover from their ordeals in the loving company of their tribe family.
Some little people who wandered away never came back. The elders of the tribe muttered darkly that the wanderers had died, or gotten so lost they could never return. They issued dire warnings to anyone who even thought about leaving the safety of the bridge. “Be careful!” they said. “The bridge is what we know. The bridge is the only place where you can be safe. The bridge is the perfect place for us to live.”
Generations passed and, with each new generation, the younger members of the tribe would grow accustomed to the warnings of the elders, and start to wander out from under the bridge in curiosity. The elders’ warnings grew direr. They spoke of hideous monsters waiting to devour any who ventured away from the safety of the bridge. They spoke of torments and ravenings, of the madness and misery that awaited any who ventured away from the safety of the bridge.
The tribe of little people grew afraid to even think of leaving the safety of the bridge. If any thought such an unthinkable thing, they were loath to admit to it, and the very few who admitted to it were hushed by their family and clan members. Soon it was taboo to even admit there was a world other than under the bridge.
But there was one young member of the tribe, called Sprog. He wasn’t the tallest warrior, or fastest runner, or the cleverest artisan. His teachers used to call him the daydreamer, because he always seemed to be thinking about something he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
One day Sprog went to see the elders. Standing in their Circle he addressed his supplication to Vinder, the wisest and most wizened of the tribal elders. “Excuse me, elder,” said Sprog politely. It took Vinder a while to realise Sprog was talking to him because he was profoundly deaf. Eventually he said ‘Eh? What d’you want, lad?”
“I want to ask a question,” said Sprog.
“Go ahead,” said Vinder.
“We live under this bridge,” began Sprog. “And you elders tell us this is all we know, and this is the place where we’re safe and so we must never leave it…”
“Yes,” said Vinder.
“But, I’ve been thinking. When we build a bridge across one of the little streams, we walk across it. So, if this is a bridge like our bridges, it wasn’t built for living under, it was built for walking across.”
The elders were silent for a very long time.
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