Monday, November 06, 2006
LIFE'S FRAGMENT
F O O D F O R T H O U G H T |
Subscribe Unsubscribe Change E-mail View Archive LIFE'S FRAGMENT Sent by Junard Aragones Nov 6, 2006 |
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although
poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse.
Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been
seen before.
People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always
refused. "This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It
is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a
possession. How could you sell a friend?"
The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the
horse. One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable.
All the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we
told you that someone would steal your horse. You are so poor. How
could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have
been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price
you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is
gone, and you've been cursed with misfortune."
The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the
horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is
judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you
judge?"
The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be
philos- ophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact
that your horse is gone is a curse."
The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty,
and the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse
or a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can
say what will come next?" The people of the village laughed. They
thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a
fool; if he wasn't, he would have sold the horse and lived off the
money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still
cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it.
He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven
that he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he
had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had
brought a dozen wild horses with him.
Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and
spoke. 'Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought
was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us."
The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the
horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but
don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see
only a fragment.
Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only
one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one
word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?
'Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one
word. All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing.
No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by
what I don't."
'Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said
little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a
blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a
little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold
for much money.
The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the
wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and
broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old
man and cast their judgments.
"You were right," they said. "You proved you were right. The dozen
horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has
broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help
you. Now you are poorer than ever."
The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging.
Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if
it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment.
Life comes in fragments." It so happened that a few weeks later the
country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young
men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of
the old man was excluded, because he was injured.
Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and
screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance
that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a
losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.
"You were right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right.
This proves it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be
broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."
The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You
always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had
to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or
a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."
The old man was right. We only have a fragment. Life's mishaps and
dis- appointments are only a page out of a grand book. We must be
slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on life's
storms until we know the whole story.
PRAYER
"Eternal God, who are the light of the minds that know you, the joy of the hearts that love you, and the strength of the wills that serve you; grant us so to know you, that we may truly love you, and so to love you that we may fully serve you, whom to serve is perfect freedom, in Jesus our Lord." (Prayer of Saint Augustine)
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