the parable of christ and the coal-man
I've been reading about mountaintop removal bomb-and-bury mining lately, and it's got me right het up. I figured there aren't enough people preaching about it. I'm no church fellow, but maybe the following could be useful to them what are...A Parable
A man returned to his hometown one summer after failed ventures in the city. He reached his brother's doorstep without a clue as to where he would get his next meal, where he would lay his head.
His brother met him with open arms. "Fear not," said the man's brother, "As it happens, I must go away for a spell. You are welcome to stay in my house and eke a living from my lands until you find a place of your own. Everything is provided for you. The crops are laden, the larder stocked, and every room comfortably furnished."
The man thanked his brother and regretted that they could not spend more time together. As promised, the brother packed up his car the next morning and left.
For a time, the man was mindful of his brother's graces. He tended the fields and harvested enough from the garden to replace what he took from the larder. He tidied the house, kept up with the bills, and maintained good relations with the neighbors.
One day at the grocery store, he heard some fellow patrons gossiping about his brother. "And did you hear," the one told the other, "He's got quite a stash tucked away beneath that house." "That's what they tell me," nodded the other, "Some say it's pieces of silver. That's his business, though, and he treats folks right so it don't bother me none."
The man tried to put this out of his mind at first. But curiosity soon got the better of him. Despite the adequacy of his provisions and the ease of his life, he would catch himself fantasizing about what he might buy if he had that silver. One night when he couldn't sleep, he got a light and began to snoop around the house. He looked first around the bedroom, in the drawers, under the bed, in curio boxes, to no avail. He shrugged and went to bed then, but slept fitfully.
Over the next few days, the thought nagged at his mind, pulled his sleeve when he meant to concentrate on a task. At times, he would leave the garden, telling himself it was only to fetch a glass of water, and poke around another room. Before long, he had searched every room. When he ventured into the basement, he hunted on his hands and knees until he saw a dull glint. He rooted around until he dug out from the dust an old silver coin. He chuckled to himself and thought, Well, some treasure!
But his mind would not let it be. What if there was more? Would a single coin really have inflamed such a rumor? His survey moved beyond the house now. He gathered tools - a spade, a mattock, a cart for dirt - and began to scrape at the corner of the garden where the broccoli was bolting anyway. In his fervor, he tilled under the broccoli. At the end of the patch, he found an arrowhead, a shiny button, and a vintage quarter, but no silver yet. He turned now to the eggplants and the basil. By the time he reached the corn, he cared not whether he trampled or uprooted: his own brother had made him a prisoner, he muttered to himself, doing his gardening while all the while he hoarded the means to economic rescue beneath the soil.
As the sun set, the man wiped his brow and looked up. Cornstalks reeled and vines threw up their leaves in surrender, but most of the plants now lay beneath clods of dirt. Full, ripe vegetables now lay hacked and scattered, leaching their juices into the furrows. The man didn't care. He spat, turned his back, and retired into the house to bathe. Oh, he had found another couple coins beneath the rhubarb, just when he had begun to doubt his labors.
With the garden in a shambles and the house turned upside down, there was only one other place the man could fathom. His brother must have buried the treasure beneath the house. The man placed a call and hired some fellows from town to come out later that day.
When the fellows came, their machines were as tall as the house. The bulldozer coughed a heavy gray smoke, and the front-end loader thundered. The fellows balked at first when they saw the place. "Say," one said to the man, "Isn't this your brother's house? Are you sure he's okay with what you're doing? I'm not too sure about this." But the man assured them that his brother had given him the house and let him do whatever he wanted. To dispel any lingering hesitation, the man gave each of the fellows a silver coin as incentive.
The bulldozer had just lit into the foundation when a car pulled up the drive. Out stepped the man's brother, eyes flashing in a rage.
The man stood his ground and let his brother walk up to him. "Why did you not tell me," began the man, "You said you'd give me this ground and everything on it to keep, but you wouldn't trust me with your money! You could've just helped me out with some cash to fix me up in a new place, but you went and kept me here to do your farming for you!"
The brother fixed the man with a stern eye. "Woe," he admonished, and his voice was so fearful that the man almost fell upon his knees. "Many years I have labored to create this that I may share with my brothers when they are in need. Think you that the land can be created in seven days? No, seven years must one sow and plant, weed and water, husband and harvest. In no season was the harvest so perfect as this. Why did you not gather the fruits and sell them, if gain was so important? The fruits of the field will rise again with judicious tending, but the ground that is rent asunder can fain be healed.
"To harvest meager coins, so cheaply bartered, you would cast aside a fortune that is given to you? Truly, you have accounted for your stewardship and come up short. Begone from my sight, for no more are you worthy of my gifts."
The man stormed off, though his gut ached with a strange emptiness. He left behind him a cloud of dust, the rapacious roar of machines, and the crash of a house collapsing on its foundation. Suddenly, he remembered why he had visited his brother in the first place. In that moment, he ran back to his brother and knelt before him, weeping. "Forgive me," cried the man, "I am unworthy of your grace. You offered your home and land to me, and I destroyed all that you had worked for. I see now that I have torn apart my own home, and with it all hope of finding a home beyond, for I have slapped away my brother's love."
The man stood, kissed his brother, and walked away again. The dozer crew drove off, coins in hand. The brother was forced to rent an apartment in the city.
To this day, the house lies still in ruins, the former garden in spindly weeds, the land fallow and flat.
A man returned to his hometown one summer after failed ventures in the city. He reached his brother's doorstep without a clue as to where he would get his next meal, where he would lay his head.
His brother met him with open arms. "Fear not," said the man's brother, "As it happens, I must go away for a spell. You are welcome to stay in my house and eke a living from my lands until you find a place of your own. Everything is provided for you. The crops are laden, the larder stocked, and every room comfortably furnished."
The man thanked his brother and regretted that they could not spend more time together. As promised, the brother packed up his car the next morning and left.
For a time, the man was mindful of his brother's graces. He tended the fields and harvested enough from the garden to replace what he took from the larder. He tidied the house, kept up with the bills, and maintained good relations with the neighbors.
One day at the grocery store, he heard some fellow patrons gossiping about his brother. "And did you hear," the one told the other, "He's got quite a stash tucked away beneath that house." "That's what they tell me," nodded the other, "Some say it's pieces of silver. That's his business, though, and he treats folks right so it don't bother me none."
The man tried to put this out of his mind at first. But curiosity soon got the better of him. Despite the adequacy of his provisions and the ease of his life, he would catch himself fantasizing about what he might buy if he had that silver. One night when he couldn't sleep, he got a light and began to snoop around the house. He looked first around the bedroom, in the drawers, under the bed, in curio boxes, to no avail. He shrugged and went to bed then, but slept fitfully.
Over the next few days, the thought nagged at his mind, pulled his sleeve when he meant to concentrate on a task. At times, he would leave the garden, telling himself it was only to fetch a glass of water, and poke around another room. Before long, he had searched every room. When he ventured into the basement, he hunted on his hands and knees until he saw a dull glint. He rooted around until he dug out from the dust an old silver coin. He chuckled to himself and thought, Well, some treasure!
But his mind would not let it be. What if there was more? Would a single coin really have inflamed such a rumor? His survey moved beyond the house now. He gathered tools - a spade, a mattock, a cart for dirt - and began to scrape at the corner of the garden where the broccoli was bolting anyway. In his fervor, he tilled under the broccoli. At the end of the patch, he found an arrowhead, a shiny button, and a vintage quarter, but no silver yet. He turned now to the eggplants and the basil. By the time he reached the corn, he cared not whether he trampled or uprooted: his own brother had made him a prisoner, he muttered to himself, doing his gardening while all the while he hoarded the means to economic rescue beneath the soil.
As the sun set, the man wiped his brow and looked up. Cornstalks reeled and vines threw up their leaves in surrender, but most of the plants now lay beneath clods of dirt. Full, ripe vegetables now lay hacked and scattered, leaching their juices into the furrows. The man didn't care. He spat, turned his back, and retired into the house to bathe. Oh, he had found another couple coins beneath the rhubarb, just when he had begun to doubt his labors.
With the garden in a shambles and the house turned upside down, there was only one other place the man could fathom. His brother must have buried the treasure beneath the house. The man placed a call and hired some fellows from town to come out later that day.
When the fellows came, their machines were as tall as the house. The bulldozer coughed a heavy gray smoke, and the front-end loader thundered. The fellows balked at first when they saw the place. "Say," one said to the man, "Isn't this your brother's house? Are you sure he's okay with what you're doing? I'm not too sure about this." But the man assured them that his brother had given him the house and let him do whatever he wanted. To dispel any lingering hesitation, the man gave each of the fellows a silver coin as incentive.
The bulldozer had just lit into the foundation when a car pulled up the drive. Out stepped the man's brother, eyes flashing in a rage.
The man stood his ground and let his brother walk up to him. "Why did you not tell me," began the man, "You said you'd give me this ground and everything on it to keep, but you wouldn't trust me with your money! You could've just helped me out with some cash to fix me up in a new place, but you went and kept me here to do your farming for you!"
The brother fixed the man with a stern eye. "Woe," he admonished, and his voice was so fearful that the man almost fell upon his knees. "Many years I have labored to create this that I may share with my brothers when they are in need. Think you that the land can be created in seven days? No, seven years must one sow and plant, weed and water, husband and harvest. In no season was the harvest so perfect as this. Why did you not gather the fruits and sell them, if gain was so important? The fruits of the field will rise again with judicious tending, but the ground that is rent asunder can fain be healed.
"To harvest meager coins, so cheaply bartered, you would cast aside a fortune that is given to you? Truly, you have accounted for your stewardship and come up short. Begone from my sight, for no more are you worthy of my gifts."
The man stormed off, though his gut ached with a strange emptiness. He left behind him a cloud of dust, the rapacious roar of machines, and the crash of a house collapsing on its foundation. Suddenly, he remembered why he had visited his brother in the first place. In that moment, he ran back to his brother and knelt before him, weeping. "Forgive me," cried the man, "I am unworthy of your grace. You offered your home and land to me, and I destroyed all that you had worked for. I see now that I have torn apart my own home, and with it all hope of finding a home beyond, for I have slapped away my brother's love."
The man stood, kissed his brother, and walked away again. The dozer crew drove off, coins in hand. The brother was forced to rent an apartment in the city.
To this day, the house lies still in ruins, the former garden in spindly weeds, the land fallow and flat.