Divine Images (a Christian story)

[Story-Teller]

Divine Images (a Christian story)


They got back to the village just as dawn broke. No one saw them arrive, not even the birds, but the news very soon got around. 'They're back!' was passed from house to house, and the cat said, 'Come on! Let's get them all together and find out what they have seen.'

There was a flying and a scampering of feet in all directions, and soon the entire village was gathered on the green, the villagers grouped in a circle with the travelers in the middle.

'Did you see him?'


'Yes.'


'What was he like?'


'Bet you didn't get very far, Sluggy!' said the dog, and the others laughed. 'Unless the fox gave you a ride!' and they laughed even harder.


'It wasn't that kind of journey,' the fox said. 'It was as hard for me as it was for Sluggy, and speed made no difference. I ran, and he slid, and we got there together.'


The crowd did not understand that. The dog asked again, 'What was he like?'


'Black!' said the slug. 'You have never seen such a black! Glistening it was, in its own light!'


'What do you mean, "in its own light"? Was he a glowslug?' They laughed again.


'No ... well, kind of, though he had more than just a glow. A shining, that's what he had, a shining, so that we didn't need the sun. His was all the light we needed. A black sun! Just imagine! A black sun! But that's what he was, resplendent' (the slug had a sudden attack of poetry) 'in his sluggishness!' They roared with laughter.


'I think you mean "slugness",' said the cat.


'Do I? "Resplendent in his slugness". All right. Doesn't sound as good as "sluggishness", though.'


'We know what you mean, Sluggy,' said the fox. 'Where you found slugness, I found foxness. Sheer, unadulterated foxness, except…' He paused. 'His angels were…' He stopped.


'Were what, Fox?' asked the mole, and then he added softly, 'Chickens?'


The crowd fell over itself in laughter, but the fox smiled at the mole and said, 'You're a wise old mole. I might have guessed you'd get it right.'


'Do you mean to tell us they were chickens?' said the dog. 'Now I've heard everything!'


'No you haven't. No you haven't,' came the still, small voice of the butterfly. 'You haven't heard the half of it. You will never hear the half of it. But listen to what I and Snake and Eagle and Man have to say.


'When I first saw him I almost missed him, he was so far from what I expected. He was just ... No, that is wrong. There is no "just" with him, only "is", only "am".'


'Leave out the philosophy, Butterfly!' cried the goat. 'What was he just, or not just?'


'A chrysalis,' replied the butterfly. 'I didn't know what it was at first, but then it stirred, or something stirred inside it, and a fragment of memory was shaken free within me, so that I knew what I would see next. And yet, as it turned out, I did not know.'


'He's going philosophical again!'


'No. Give him a chance. Go on, Butterfly.' It was the mole's voice again.


'I did not know, I did not expect, such a butterfly as he was. His wings grew large, and as he spread them out I saw on each a great eye which caught me and held me in its gaze. The color of those wings, of those eyes! Oh, the color of them! And this is strange. You would have thought I would have felt my drabness beside his beauty, but no. He showed me not my drabness, but my own beauty, and I saw that it was a reflection of his.'


'It was like that for me,' added the snake, 'or nearly so. For me he was, as you might have guessed, a snake, but one who was continually sloughing his skin. Each skin was more beautiful than the last, until I felt I could take in no more, and shut my eyes. Even in my darkness the colors flashed and shone, then suddenly all went dark, and I opened my eyes. Do you know how I saw him then? A worm! What I would before have called "just a worm", a "common-or-garden-just-a-worm", a "dull, boring worm". But I learned then what Butterfly has learned, that there is no "just" with him.' A worm hiding at the back of the crowd suddenly felt rather pleased with herself.


'She taught me that, too.' It was the eagle's turn now. 'When first I found her, she was an eagle of towering majesty. High, high up she was, much higher than I have ever been. Then, as she descended, her great wings came to enfold us, embracing not just us, but the whole world. All was held in those wings of hers, and none had any fear of beak or talon. Yet the touch of her feathers made me tremble. Like Snake, I closed my eyes. Can you guess what made me open them again? A tickling on my beak! There she was, a bluetit hanging upside down on my great beak! I could have given a quick flick and swallowed her down in one! Well, no. But that's what you might have thought. To have God doing acrobatics on your beak!
just imagine, just imagine! It does something for you, I can tell you.'


During all this the man had not said a word. He was the only one of the travelers who seemed tired by the journey. He sat there with his head resting on his hands, enveloped in his own sad bewilderment.


The fox nudged him.

'They want you to speak now. They're waiting for you. The rest of us have had our say.' The man looked up at the silent faces round him. 'They understand what they have seen,' he said quietly. 'Slug, Fox, Butterfly, Snake, Eagle - they all understand. I do not yet understand. That is why I sit here with my head in my hands, for I want to understand as they do. I sense that when I do, I will find what they have found, and their joy will be mine also.'


'But what did you see?' asked the mole. 'Was it not a man?'


'Yes, it was a man.'


'Well then?'


'But he was hanging on a cross. We had crucified him.'

Author Unknown
Submitted by Richard