Post by Edward Cheever on May 18, 2010 14:46:31 GMT -6
Alright, so this project, tentatively titled: "The Correspondence" is in a way a frame narrative, but it is unlike anything I've ever written before.
I have a fascination with religion and philosophy, as well as the way those things are built and interact. I've also been interested in the way people compile and study such things.
The idea for the project is thus: I will write as myself, as if I were a sort of historian charged with the keeping of the correspondence between two figures in a made-up religious movement, Master Frank Infiard (a middle-aged former grammar school teacher who is part of the hierarchy of the Extantism religion, and Minister Treyahn, a new teacher of Extantism who is the equivalent of a pastor in this particular religion.
This version of myself is writing a book studying the beliefs of this new religion, while at the same time cataloging the entirety of these two men's correspondence.
The purpose of "The Correspondence" is more for me to play with my own ideas of religion and philosophy more than anything else. I do not know what audience this project would be for. Many of the ideas that Infiard and Treyahn espouse are mine, and some are not. They are distinct characters apart from myself, after all.
This first segment I've written doesn't yet have a place in the overarching book. I suspect much of the book will be written like this, piecemeal, as the ideas for letters, e-mails, phone call transcriptions, and instant messaging conversations come to me.
So here is the first written bit of "The Correspondence":
Dear Minister Treyahn,
I was very much encouraged this morning, to see your letter in my mailbox. I'm sure that you'll find letter writing to be quite enjoyable, though it is an older art of communication than your preferred instant messaging. I won't bother you any more with my pester-some soap-boxing about the topic, I am, at heart at least, an Old Fogey.
I tore open the envelope in anticipation, and read your correspondence with great interest. I would have taken time to eat lunch first, but one element of your letter so caught my attention, that I'm afraid I could do little else but send you a reply immediately.
The portion that so captured me was this: “My congregation is almost pelting m with questions, Master Infiard. I like the fact that they're so interested and all, but more often than not, I don't know the answer. One particular member asked me why almost all the offerings go to food and clothing services. He said that he was paying to see new churches built, not to keep people lazy. He then quoted at me, 'Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him or life.' I'll admit, I was a bit flaberghasted. I wanted to defend our operations, but I didn't know how to go about it.”
The word is spelled, “flabbergasted,” Trey, but don't mind me, I am a former grammar teacher, and such things always catch my eye. But that is not what I really wish to speak of.
Do not worry about the questions you cannot answer as much as you do. It is well that you go looking for answers, but the lack of an answer in the present is not the lack of an answer in the future. Our religion is built upon the search for knowledge and truth, paired with our understanding that both are infinite, and nigh impossible to ever fully obtain. Explain this to your members, and encourage them to search for answers in their own spiritual lives and experiences when you have nothing to give yourself. God is, after all, the source of all things, and He will share his wisdom with every member who seeks it in the experience which He has provided us.
It is well that you come to me with this question in particular, as I have been lately thinking upon the good of the Social Justice in which we practice. It is true that 'teaching a man to fish' is a virtue of higher value than a single day's morsel. But under what context? As our belief teaches us, 'Not all existence is the same for all men, or there would be but one Existence, and yet there are many existences in the world.' I am reminded of a parable that I was told of many years ago by Master Buuyi, of the Order of Buddha, and I will repeat it to you as I have remembered it.
There once was a man crossing the Great Desert (I assume the Gobi, from Master Buuyi's background,) and because he was a prudent man, he carried with him many water skins (bags of water, I suppose you might imagine bottles or something of the like,) enough to travel the length of the desert and never want for thirst. He traveled for many, many days, and though the heat bore down on him (I assume this was a summer, for the Gobi Desert is also known for its freezing temperatures,) and though the winds tore at him, he was content with his travels.
Near the midst of the desert, when the sun was at his highest, the man came upon another traveler. This man was thin and dry. His hair was blown, and his skin was cracked, and his tongue was darkening and thick. He crawled upon the dunes of sand, and cried out in hope at the sight of the prudent man.
“Help me!” He cried, “Please spare some water for me, lest I die!” (I must admit, I love to add the King James for flavor.)
The man adjusted his water skins and approached cautiously. “What business brings you unto the midst of the desert? Did you not bring your own water?”
“I was not wise.” The man said, “I was not prudent. I brought only enough water skins to bring me here, for I was to meet my love on her way through the desert. We were to abandon her cruel family, who lose no love for us, and make a life together on the far side of the desert.”
The prudent man looked down upon the man, “Love will not support life in the dessert.”
“Surely, sir,” begged the traveler, “I see you have many water skins. Please spar but one for me, so that I may leave this place alive.”
“How can I know that you will leave, and not stray further after your lost love and die amongst the dunes?” Retorted the prudent man.
“I have only my word to give,” said the traveler.
“Of what use to me is the word of a dying man?” The prudent man thought of his water-skins, and though he knew he could survive the crossing with one less skin, he would know a little thirst for rationing. “I will not give you my water,” he declared, “But I will aid you.”
“What aid could you give me besides water?” The parched man asked.
“I tell you,” said the man, “build a well. Dig deeply into the earth until the water seeps forth. Dig deeply until the mud is thick. Dig Deeply until the water rises. And then will your thirst be quenched. See then, that I have done far greater for you than a mere water skin, but I have taught you how to provide water for yourself for life.”
The dying man cried dry tears, “Of what use to me is this knowledge? I have no spade for which to dig and no energy for which to lift my hands to work. What should happen, even if I did all these things, and water were not found at the bottom of this desert's well?”
“These things do not concern me,” said the prudent man as he walked away. “I have taught you the art of well-digging, it is enough that I have done so.”
He left the man in the sand and heat and continued on his way. The lost lover died in the desert, having moved two scoops of sand for his dry well.
The prudent man walked many more days, and when he was but a week from the border he took his rest on a wide rock. As he lay down, his last two water skins struck the sharp point of a bramble thorn, and while he slept they leaked into the sands.
When he awoke, he cried at the sight of his empty skins, “What is to become of me!”
He walked onward, desperate for the edge of the desert, but all he met were dunes. He stumbled onward. He fell to his knees. He felt his windblown hair and cracked skin. His tongue darkened and thickened in his mouth. The certainty of death took hold of his heart, and he cried out in terror.
Over the dunes came a traveler, and on his back were many water-skins. He approached the prudent man, who crawled in the sand and asked him, “What business have you in the desert, did you not bring water?”
“I cross the desert for I must, but I did bring many a water skin with me. I took my rest, and they were cut on the thorn of a bramble and a I slept they leaked into the sands of the desert. Please traveler,” he begged, “spare but one water-skin for me, lest I die.”
“I will do more than that, for you,” declared the traveler, “I will teach you how to sew your bags, so that they will never leak again, and if they should break, you will always remember how to fix them.”
The prudent man cried dry tears, “Of what use to me is this knowledge? I have no thread or needle for which to sew, and the spirit of deft fingers has left me. What should happen, even if I did all these things, and still there is no water for my skins?”
The traveler spoke as he turned to leave, “Build a well.” And he left the prudent man to die amongst the dunes, assured in the goodness of his deeds.
I am sorry for my tale-telling skills, they are not as fine as Master Buuyi's to be certain, but I hope they will suffice. Jesus told many a parable, and I think it is a tradition we too often abandon in the pursuit of pale Aplologetics, not that I would ever advocate abandoning such practices, which have their own merit.
In any case, I trust the message of the story is clear. Of what use is it to teach a man to fish, if he dies of hunger before he can learn? Our purpose is not to provide one or the other, for a single day's fish alone is as poor as a fishing lesson without food enough to empower the fisherman to fish. The purpose of our church, much as Jesus' was, is to do both. I am currently pushing for more funding for providing schooling for the poor, and it is an area for which we must expand, surely. The member in question may be encouraged to hear this; that his concerns are being moved upon. If he remains disquieted about the direction in which his offering money is spent, it would be well to remind him of the value our religion places on the existence of all peoples, rich, poor, and helpless. If this too will not comfort him, then kindly suggest that Extantism is not for him, and that there are many other religions who promote the building of great wonders of architecture over the building of men and women in which he may find like minded individuals.
I do hope he will understand our values and place his own similarly. If not, let him go with God and good grace.
Peace be unto you, dear Trey. I look forward to our next correspondence.
- Master Frank Infiard, Order of Jesus.
I have a fascination with religion and philosophy, as well as the way those things are built and interact. I've also been interested in the way people compile and study such things.
The idea for the project is thus: I will write as myself, as if I were a sort of historian charged with the keeping of the correspondence between two figures in a made-up religious movement, Master Frank Infiard (a middle-aged former grammar school teacher who is part of the hierarchy of the Extantism religion, and Minister Treyahn, a new teacher of Extantism who is the equivalent of a pastor in this particular religion.
This version of myself is writing a book studying the beliefs of this new religion, while at the same time cataloging the entirety of these two men's correspondence.
The purpose of "The Correspondence" is more for me to play with my own ideas of religion and philosophy more than anything else. I do not know what audience this project would be for. Many of the ideas that Infiard and Treyahn espouse are mine, and some are not. They are distinct characters apart from myself, after all.
This first segment I've written doesn't yet have a place in the overarching book. I suspect much of the book will be written like this, piecemeal, as the ideas for letters, e-mails, phone call transcriptions, and instant messaging conversations come to me.
So here is the first written bit of "The Correspondence":
Dear Minister Treyahn,
I was very much encouraged this morning, to see your letter in my mailbox. I'm sure that you'll find letter writing to be quite enjoyable, though it is an older art of communication than your preferred instant messaging. I won't bother you any more with my pester-some soap-boxing about the topic, I am, at heart at least, an Old Fogey.
I tore open the envelope in anticipation, and read your correspondence with great interest. I would have taken time to eat lunch first, but one element of your letter so caught my attention, that I'm afraid I could do little else but send you a reply immediately.
The portion that so captured me was this: “My congregation is almost pelting m with questions, Master Infiard. I like the fact that they're so interested and all, but more often than not, I don't know the answer. One particular member asked me why almost all the offerings go to food and clothing services. He said that he was paying to see new churches built, not to keep people lazy. He then quoted at me, 'Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him or life.' I'll admit, I was a bit flaberghasted. I wanted to defend our operations, but I didn't know how to go about it.”
The word is spelled, “flabbergasted,” Trey, but don't mind me, I am a former grammar teacher, and such things always catch my eye. But that is not what I really wish to speak of.
Do not worry about the questions you cannot answer as much as you do. It is well that you go looking for answers, but the lack of an answer in the present is not the lack of an answer in the future. Our religion is built upon the search for knowledge and truth, paired with our understanding that both are infinite, and nigh impossible to ever fully obtain. Explain this to your members, and encourage them to search for answers in their own spiritual lives and experiences when you have nothing to give yourself. God is, after all, the source of all things, and He will share his wisdom with every member who seeks it in the experience which He has provided us.
It is well that you come to me with this question in particular, as I have been lately thinking upon the good of the Social Justice in which we practice. It is true that 'teaching a man to fish' is a virtue of higher value than a single day's morsel. But under what context? As our belief teaches us, 'Not all existence is the same for all men, or there would be but one Existence, and yet there are many existences in the world.' I am reminded of a parable that I was told of many years ago by Master Buuyi, of the Order of Buddha, and I will repeat it to you as I have remembered it.
There once was a man crossing the Great Desert (I assume the Gobi, from Master Buuyi's background,) and because he was a prudent man, he carried with him many water skins (bags of water, I suppose you might imagine bottles or something of the like,) enough to travel the length of the desert and never want for thirst. He traveled for many, many days, and though the heat bore down on him (I assume this was a summer, for the Gobi Desert is also known for its freezing temperatures,) and though the winds tore at him, he was content with his travels.
Near the midst of the desert, when the sun was at his highest, the man came upon another traveler. This man was thin and dry. His hair was blown, and his skin was cracked, and his tongue was darkening and thick. He crawled upon the dunes of sand, and cried out in hope at the sight of the prudent man.
“Help me!” He cried, “Please spare some water for me, lest I die!” (I must admit, I love to add the King James for flavor.)
The man adjusted his water skins and approached cautiously. “What business brings you unto the midst of the desert? Did you not bring your own water?”
“I was not wise.” The man said, “I was not prudent. I brought only enough water skins to bring me here, for I was to meet my love on her way through the desert. We were to abandon her cruel family, who lose no love for us, and make a life together on the far side of the desert.”
The prudent man looked down upon the man, “Love will not support life in the dessert.”
“Surely, sir,” begged the traveler, “I see you have many water skins. Please spar but one for me, so that I may leave this place alive.”
“How can I know that you will leave, and not stray further after your lost love and die amongst the dunes?” Retorted the prudent man.
“I have only my word to give,” said the traveler.
“Of what use to me is the word of a dying man?” The prudent man thought of his water-skins, and though he knew he could survive the crossing with one less skin, he would know a little thirst for rationing. “I will not give you my water,” he declared, “But I will aid you.”
“What aid could you give me besides water?” The parched man asked.
“I tell you,” said the man, “build a well. Dig deeply into the earth until the water seeps forth. Dig deeply until the mud is thick. Dig Deeply until the water rises. And then will your thirst be quenched. See then, that I have done far greater for you than a mere water skin, but I have taught you how to provide water for yourself for life.”
The dying man cried dry tears, “Of what use to me is this knowledge? I have no spade for which to dig and no energy for which to lift my hands to work. What should happen, even if I did all these things, and water were not found at the bottom of this desert's well?”
“These things do not concern me,” said the prudent man as he walked away. “I have taught you the art of well-digging, it is enough that I have done so.”
He left the man in the sand and heat and continued on his way. The lost lover died in the desert, having moved two scoops of sand for his dry well.
The prudent man walked many more days, and when he was but a week from the border he took his rest on a wide rock. As he lay down, his last two water skins struck the sharp point of a bramble thorn, and while he slept they leaked into the sands.
When he awoke, he cried at the sight of his empty skins, “What is to become of me!”
He walked onward, desperate for the edge of the desert, but all he met were dunes. He stumbled onward. He fell to his knees. He felt his windblown hair and cracked skin. His tongue darkened and thickened in his mouth. The certainty of death took hold of his heart, and he cried out in terror.
Over the dunes came a traveler, and on his back were many water-skins. He approached the prudent man, who crawled in the sand and asked him, “What business have you in the desert, did you not bring water?”
“I cross the desert for I must, but I did bring many a water skin with me. I took my rest, and they were cut on the thorn of a bramble and a I slept they leaked into the sands of the desert. Please traveler,” he begged, “spare but one water-skin for me, lest I die.”
“I will do more than that, for you,” declared the traveler, “I will teach you how to sew your bags, so that they will never leak again, and if they should break, you will always remember how to fix them.”
The prudent man cried dry tears, “Of what use to me is this knowledge? I have no thread or needle for which to sew, and the spirit of deft fingers has left me. What should happen, even if I did all these things, and still there is no water for my skins?”
The traveler spoke as he turned to leave, “Build a well.” And he left the prudent man to die amongst the dunes, assured in the goodness of his deeds.
I am sorry for my tale-telling skills, they are not as fine as Master Buuyi's to be certain, but I hope they will suffice. Jesus told many a parable, and I think it is a tradition we too often abandon in the pursuit of pale Aplologetics, not that I would ever advocate abandoning such practices, which have their own merit.
In any case, I trust the message of the story is clear. Of what use is it to teach a man to fish, if he dies of hunger before he can learn? Our purpose is not to provide one or the other, for a single day's fish alone is as poor as a fishing lesson without food enough to empower the fisherman to fish. The purpose of our church, much as Jesus' was, is to do both. I am currently pushing for more funding for providing schooling for the poor, and it is an area for which we must expand, surely. The member in question may be encouraged to hear this; that his concerns are being moved upon. If he remains disquieted about the direction in which his offering money is spent, it would be well to remind him of the value our religion places on the existence of all peoples, rich, poor, and helpless. If this too will not comfort him, then kindly suggest that Extantism is not for him, and that there are many other religions who promote the building of great wonders of architecture over the building of men and women in which he may find like minded individuals.
I do hope he will understand our values and place his own similarly. If not, let him go with God and good grace.
Peace be unto you, dear Trey. I look forward to our next correspondence.
- Master Frank Infiard, Order of Jesus.