A Story
By John T Harding
Pelagius moved across the room where Fendelthor Grendelson was napping.
"Meow," he whispered as he waited for the cat to respond.
"I know you're there," Fendelthor hissed. "Mockery will get you scratched. What do you want?"
"It's time for people to plan how to cope with the preacher who is disrupting the town with his talk about who's in charge of the spirit world," Pelagius said.
"Everybody knows the Boss is in charge," the cat answered. "This preacher just uses a different name."
"True," Pelagius agreed. "But this guy, like many other preachers, acts like there is really only one, the one he talks about, and all the names used by others is proof that they are wrong and he is right."
"That's not logical," Fendelthor said.
"Logic don't enter into it," the spirit answered. "If it did, he would know that names are only labels, and labels change with every language."
"There's that language thing again," the cat noted. "I wish people would learn to use thought alone to communicate, like we do. That way, there wouldn't be so many problems in the world."
"The gobbledygook people use these days never did make sense to me," Pelagius said. "It didn't even exist when I was walking the earth. What do they call it these days? English? I was born and raised on the same island, and that chatter they call their language didn't develop until after I left, when the new guys -- the Angles, Saxon and Jutes -- came to make better use of the available farmland, rather than fight over who supposedly owned it."
"All that aside, the cat interrupted, "how do we get the local preacher to admit that his version of a belief system is just one of many, and is no more correct than any of the others. From what you tell me, the Boss approves of them all."
"Except those who use it as an excuse to beat up on the others," Pelagius said. "The Boss does not approve of that."
Fendelthor hissed. "Then why does he let it happen?"
"We've been through that before," Pelagius said. "It's called free will."
"And that's why all these people can't get along," Fendelthor said. "They all want to be in charge, and have all the others do as they're told."
"You know what that's like," the spirit said. "Cats do the same, always hissing about who's in charge."
"It's not a matter of who's in charge," the cat said. "We just want to be left alone."
"Yeah, right," Pelagius teased. "Explain that to people whose cats want to sleep on their lap all day, whenever they sit anywhere."
"That's easy," Fendelthor said. "Their reward is warmth and purring. That's our way of thanking them for providing a home. That and catching any mice that try to come in. I learned that from my father."
"His name was Grendel, right?" Pelagius said. "I knew his namesake, back in the day. He became famous on his own for his bouts with my Norse brethren. The sad part of that story is that all of their adventures are taught as fiction, and not as true stories."
"I know what that's like," Fendelthor said. "My people used to talk to each other about those days, and even then they dismissed the stories as just that -- stories, meant only for entertainment."
"Stories should be entertaining," Pelagius noted. "That's the key to good teaching. It's a way to get people to think. But that's also the reason I had to leave Rome when I did. The Vatican guys insisted that people do as they're told, and believe the stories just as we tell them, and not ask questions."
"It's still that way," Fendelthor noted. "But that'ss just among people. Cats don't go that route."
"And you never have, have you," Pelagius noted.
"Never," Fendelthor purred.
By John T Harding
Pelagius moved across the room where Fendelthor Grendelson was napping.
"Meow," he whispered as he waited for the cat to respond.
"I know you're there," Fendelthor hissed. "Mockery will get you scratched. What do you want?"
"It's time for people to plan how to cope with the preacher who is disrupting the town with his talk about who's in charge of the spirit world," Pelagius said.
"Everybody knows the Boss is in charge," the cat answered. "This preacher just uses a different name."
"True," Pelagius agreed. "But this guy, like many other preachers, acts like there is really only one, the one he talks about, and all the names used by others is proof that they are wrong and he is right."
"That's not logical," Fendelthor said.
"Logic don't enter into it," the spirit answered. "If it did, he would know that names are only labels, and labels change with every language."
"There's that language thing again," the cat noted. "I wish people would learn to use thought alone to communicate, like we do. That way, there wouldn't be so many problems in the world."
"The gobbledygook people use these days never did make sense to me," Pelagius said. "It didn't even exist when I was walking the earth. What do they call it these days? English? I was born and raised on the same island, and that chatter they call their language didn't develop until after I left, when the new guys -- the Angles, Saxon and Jutes -- came to make better use of the available farmland, rather than fight over who supposedly owned it."
"All that aside, the cat interrupted, "how do we get the local preacher to admit that his version of a belief system is just one of many, and is no more correct than any of the others. From what you tell me, the Boss approves of them all."
"Except those who use it as an excuse to beat up on the others," Pelagius said. "The Boss does not approve of that."
Fendelthor hissed. "Then why does he let it happen?"
"We've been through that before," Pelagius said. "It's called free will."
"And that's why all these people can't get along," Fendelthor said. "They all want to be in charge, and have all the others do as they're told."
"You know what that's like," the spirit said. "Cats do the same, always hissing about who's in charge."
"It's not a matter of who's in charge," the cat said. "We just want to be left alone."
"Yeah, right," Pelagius teased. "Explain that to people whose cats want to sleep on their lap all day, whenever they sit anywhere."
"That's easy," Fendelthor said. "Their reward is warmth and purring. That's our way of thanking them for providing a home. That and catching any mice that try to come in. I learned that from my father."
"His name was Grendel, right?" Pelagius said. "I knew his namesake, back in the day. He became famous on his own for his bouts with my Norse brethren. The sad part of that story is that all of their adventures are taught as fiction, and not as true stories."
"I know what that's like," Fendelthor said. "My people used to talk to each other about those days, and even then they dismissed the stories as just that -- stories, meant only for entertainment."
"Stories should be entertaining," Pelagius noted. "That's the key to good teaching. It's a way to get people to think. But that's also the reason I had to leave Rome when I did. The Vatican guys insisted that people do as they're told, and believe the stories just as we tell them, and not ask questions."
"It's still that way," Fendelthor noted. "But that'ss just among people. Cats don't go that route."
"And you never have, have you," Pelagius noted.
"Never," Fendelthor purred.
(Comments welcome)
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