A Japanese Folktale, retold by Patty Kyrlach
Once long ago, in the island country of
Japan, there lived an artist named Sekko.
Sekko was famous for his
paintings of dragons. He painted colorful dragons on plates and pottery, on
fabric and tapestries, on canvases of all sizes, and even on the wall of the
great hall of the emperor's palace.
Everyone oohed and ahhed
when they saw the flashing eyes, the smoking nostrils, the curled claws, and the
fearsome faces of Sekko's dragons. Sekko drew angry dragons, laughing dragons, dancing
dragons, sorrowful dragons, and sleeping dragons. He even made a painting of
the world's most famous artist reflected in the eye of a dragon.
Soon all the ladies at court
were wearing dragon jewelry and braiding their hair with dragon claw combs. The
men wore robes made from cloth that imitated dragon scales. Children built
cages in hopes of finding a dragon egg and raising a dragon as a pet. But only
the emperor was permitted to wear a robe with a big dragon symbol -- hand painted, of course -- by Sekko.
It came as no surprise when
Sekko was asked to lead the Dragon Symposium, an annual seminar dedicated to
dragon studies -- their likes and dislikes, their lore and learning, their diet and
mating rituals, and the fundamentals of dragon psychology. He drew diagrams of
dragon anatomy.
And he spoke at length on everyone's favorite subject, the fabled treasures of dragons. He painted
maps that promised to lead sincere seekers to riches-beyond-reckoning. (No one
seemed to notice that the only one getting rich was Sekko.)
Sekko's painting and treasure map business was thriving, until one day,
when the earth shook.
In the artist's studio, pots and plates and paintings and tapestries went flying
as the floor rocked like a ship in a storm. A burst of flame erupted just
before the walls cracked and the roof came caving in. The artist barely escaped
with his life.
Was it an earthquake,
wondered Sekko? A volcano? The end of the world?
Lying in a heap by the road,
he looked up just in time to see a dragon -- a humongous, rainbow-colored, fire-breathing dragon -- sailing into the clouds.
Everyone came running to find
Sekko. "Help us!" they cried. "What do we do now? You know everything about dragons. How can we
save our village?"
But Sekko hung his head in
shame.
"I don't know," he said. "I've never seen a real dragon before."
- - - - -
Many people are just like
Sekko. They think they've got God all figured out. They know his likes and dislikes. They
know the kind of people he associates with -- which, what a coincidence! -- is people just like them. They figure that God's political philosophy or theological views must surely match up
with their own. Many Americans think that God is a Republican or a Democrat or
a Presbyterian or an Episcopalian.
But they've never met God. Not the
humongous, rainbow-colored, fire-breathing God of the Bible. After Job had an encounter with God, he said, "My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you." (Job 42:5) Before he met God, Job had a
lot of good suggestions about how God could run the universe; but after his
encounter, he could only say, "I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes." (Job 42:6)
The world doesn't need any more experts on God. What the world needs desperately are people who know God
personally, people who can show God's love and kindness to everyone.
Stark Raving Mythopath thanks Inez Schneider, who first introduced her to this Japanese story.
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