Intellectual Suicide
|
|
Intellectual Suicide
|
|
I was sitting in the temple. I was selling my wares, And then
this do-gooder walks up and stands there and stares. So I go
over to him and I say "How can I help you, sir? You need a
sacrificial cow, or maybe a lost sheep, sir?" Well he didn't say
anything for a minute or two. He was confused and hurt, and
then shouted "Who are you to be here in this temple making
Dad's house as it is? Selling animals, changing money - you're
phoney. It's an absolute sin." Then he picked up the table,
smashed it onto the ground. It broke into pieces with a very
loud sound. And before very long, a crowd gathers round.
"Good sir, what right have you to do these things to goods of
mine? What will you do as a show of your power: that is to say,
as a sign?" "I smashed up this place but if you raze it to the
ground, in three days you'll see a brand new temple where before
you saw the rubble mound." "We'll never do that, as you well
know. It took us fortysix years, so off you go."
They'd been shown up for what they really were. In their
eyes there were many tears, you know.