The Parable of the Great Teacher

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, 150 years later, we still revere a two-minute speech that almost nobody heard spoken.  What does that tell us about our history?”

Josh spoke thus:

A student approached a great teacher.

“What is the secret to happiness?” the student asked the great teacher.

“Fiber,” the great teacher said.

“Fiber?  That’s it?” the student asked.

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey.” 

“Fiber and good whiskey?” the student asked, “That’s it?”

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife.”

“Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife?” the student asked, “Is that it?”

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire.”

“Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire?” the student asked, “Is that it?”

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire and a roof over your head.”

“Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire and a roof over my head?” the student asked, “Is that it?”

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire and a roof over your head and a good shade tree to sit under in the summer.”

“Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire and a roof over my head and a good shade tree to sit under in the summer?” the student asked, “Is that it?”

The great teacher shrugged and said, “Fiber and good whiskey and a loving wife and a warm fire and a roof over your head and a good shade tree to sit under in the summer and a string of Christmas lights that doesn’t have a missing bulb.”

“Wait,” the student said, “I get the fiber.  Fiber keeps you healthy.  I understand the good whiskey.  Whiskey soothes the nerves.  A loving wife I understand.  A loving wife gives companionship and support.  I understand the warm fire.  A warm fire keeps the cold away.  I understand a roof over my head.  Everyone needs shelter.  I understand the good shade tree to sit under in the summer.  Beneath a good shade tree is a place to sit and reflect on a long summer evening, is a good place to rest from labor out in the sun.  But the Christmas lights.  I don’t understand the Christmas lights.  The Christmas lights are so trivial.  How does a string of Christmas lights that doesn’t have a missing bulb fit in with all those other things?  Are the lights a symbol for all the acts that make up our lives?  Are they goals, each of which must be attained in the proper order?  Do they represent enlightenment?”

“Last Christmas,” the great teacher said, “Four hours I spent troubleshooting one stupid bulb.  Four hours!”