The Parable of the Teenagers Who Slammed Their Doors

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, when supporting a divided force of rebels, which rebels do you support?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two teenagers were shouting.

“I hate you!” the first teenager shouted.

“I hate you!” the second teenager shouted.

Both teenagers slammed their doors.

The two teenagers did not hate each other.  The two teenagers hated their parents.

“It sounds like they hate us,” the teenagers’ father said to the teenagers’ mother.

“It certainly does sound like they hate us,” the teenagers’ mother said to the teenagers’ father.

“Hatred is a strong word,” the teenagers’ father said.

“Hatred is a harsh emotion,” the teenagers’ mother said.

The two teenagers’ doors opened.

“I hate you!” the first teenager shouted.

“I hate you!” the second teenager shouted.

Both teenagers slammed their doors.

“Just yesterday they hated each other,” the teenagers’ father said.

“Tomorrow they will hate each other again,” the teenagers’ mother said.

“Tonight they hate us,” the teenagers’ father said.

“We could let them use the car, like they asked,” the teenagers’ mother said.

“And they would love us again,” the teenagers’ father said.

“If we let them use the car,” the teenagers’ mother said, “They’ll start to fight over the car.”

“Then they’ll hate each other again,” the teenagers’ father said.

“But they’ll have the car,” the teenagers’ mother said.

“If we don’t let them have the car,” the teenagers’ father said, “Who knows how long their alliance will last?”

“They can’t remain allied,” the teenagers’ mother said, “They’re teenagers.”

“So we wait them out?” the teenagers’ father asked.

“We wait them out,” the teenagers’ mother said.

“Until they’re adults?” the teenagers’ father asked.

“Until they’re done slamming their doors,” the teenagers’ mother said.

“I hate you!” the first teenager shouted.

“I hate you!” the second teenager shouted.

Both teenagers slammed their bedroom doors.

“How long can they keep it up?” the teenagers’ father asked.

“Not long,” the teenagers’ mother said, “They have to eat.”

“And there’s only one bag of snacks left,” the teenagers’ father said.  

“I hate you!” the first teenager shouted.

“What is there to eat?” the second teenager asked, walking into the kitchen.

The teenagers’ father smiled.  The teenagers’ mother smiled.

“What are you smiling at?” the first teenager asked, walking into the kitchen.