I walk the park for an hour with my eyes peeled for the story, the photo opp., the news of the world, and sometimes the hot gossip. This morning, trucks delivered the materials for a mini city, and I watched as seven industrious ant men carried pieces of metal the length of a truck bed.
Uncomfortable with my analogy to wingless insects, I decided these were apprentice cross-bearers, practicing Jesuses, tirelessly carrying these burdens for us.
My bewildering blending of parable and fable demands consideration of the fabulous poem, “The Three Ants,” by Kahil Gibran:
The Three Ants
Three ants met on the nose of a man who was asleep in the sun. And
after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
The first ant said, “These hills and plains are the most barren I
have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found.”
Said the second ant, “I too have found nothing, though I have
visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people
call the soft, moving land where nothing grows.”
Then the third ant raised his head and said, “My friends, we are
standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite
Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow
is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we
cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent.”
When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other
At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and
scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.
- Make your own fable.