MOUSE

Once upon a time there lived a great king who was sad because he had no God to believe in. After much thought he issued a decree. In it he commanded that on a certain day all the men of faith who lived in his kingdom were to bring before him the Gods they worshiped. On that day he would decide which God was the greatest of all, and this would be the one he would believe in. In due course that day finally came.

The king erected a pavilion on the main road which ran through his capitol and there sat on his throne while men of faith paraded their Gods before him. And what a fantastic parade it was! Huge idols of gold and silver on gigantic carts were wheeled by. The trumpets blew, soldiers, slaves, citizens and priests marched by, each in turn singing a brighter and more inspiring hymn. Yet as the parade progressed, the king seemed to tire of it. How, he thought, would he ever be able to choose a single God from this magnificent procession?

Finally, as evening began to fall, the last man of faith walked by. Yet how different this man's God was from all the rest! He seemed to be a humble man of pleasant, yet average disposition, dressed in a simple robe. In his hands he carried a satin pillow upon which rested the tarnished likeness of a mouse.

Confused and intrigued, the king called for the man to come before him. "What means this?" He asked the man. "When all the other Gods are so vast and splendid that you would consider as equal to them this tiny trinket?"

To this the man replied:

"Many years ago, some of my ancestors were out hunting and discovered a giant statue of a dragon, made of wax. They put it on a sledge, hauled it back to our village and housed it in a temple, where they worshiped it night and day. But after time, the wax began to soften. Curious, the most daring of my ancestors peeled away the wax and discovered beneath it the statue of a lion, made of wood. This lion we worshipped for many years, but after time, the wood began to rot. Some of my ancestors then tore away the wood and found beneath it the statue of an ancient sage, made of clay. For a while we worshipped the sage, but after time the clay began to crack Then, some of my ancestors chipped away the clay and found this mouse. It is not as terrifying as a dragon, nor as strong as a lion, nor as wise as a sage, but it is made of something which neither softens, nor rots nor cracks. And even though it is small indeed it is eternal. So that is why we worship it now, and always will."

I should like to end this story happily. Then I could say the king instantly decided on the mouse and fell to his knees. But we all know this is not the way men are, be they kings or paupers, masters or slaves. Men look for shelter in the shadows of grand and regal monuments. And truth by itself is not glorious until it is made larger by the impermanent arts of men, with clay, wax, wood and words. In that way men come to worship a God who may decide what is true, when it fact it is truth itself which decides who may be God.

So the king chose another God and the man returned to his village, beyond the boundaries of which Gods come and go, but inside of which truth never dies.