John Tanner and William Tanner (A Parable)

On a still-dark Sunday morning in the Middle Ages, John Tanner awoke to the shriek of the rooster. He rose in darkness, just as he had gone to sleep in darkness. It was cold; his breath floated in a cloud as he leaned to stoke the fire. One of his children (the only one who had survived three of these winters in this same one-room hovel) coughed a wet cough. He'd been coughing like this for nearly a month, and John and his wife were beginning to be concerned. The boy was sleeping away days, now.

Konrad Witz: St. Chritopher

John had become used to the stench of his work, but that same stench meant that his house was far away from the others in the village. Most days were isolation and work and close contact with the urine that was used in his trade. Most days, he woke in the dark, worked through the light, and went to bed. His life was work and darkness. Except on Sunday...


The small family (John Tanner, his wife Allison and their little boy, pale and clutching his mother's dress, but wide-eyed) shuffled into the gorgeous church. They stood, transfixed, looking at the golden decorations; at the beautiful statues of Jesus and his Mother and at the carvings of the saints; they listened, enraptured by the Latin words they didn't understand and by the magical hands of the priest changing bread and wine into flesh and blood. He'd been told: if they came to this beautiful building; if they prayed; if they confessed their sins, some day the suffering would end and they would dwell in a light warmer than that of these Sunday candles, no matter the time of day or night, and there would be no more work to do; there would be no more death...no more dying children... Surely a place with this much golden promise would lead them to a better life...

(Centuries pass...the Tanner line goes on...ships dock in New York...wars are fought...)

On a dark morning in 2012, William Tanner awoke to the sound of a car-alarm out in the street. He looked at the clock: 4:15 AM. He sighed -- he'd been awakened fifteen minutes too early. He awoke in darkness just as he had gone to sleep in darkness. It was cold. When he turned on the desk lamp that was the only light in their one-room apartment, he could see his breath. They kept the heat very low -- they were three payments behind. His little girl, still cuddling on the couch with her mother, coughed a wet cough. She'd been through three courses of antibiotics. William and his wife were becoming concerned. Where would they get the money for more medicine?

He'd become used to working four jobs and having no time to see the ones he loved. The family was always asleep when he left for work and, again, when he came back home. he hadn't made love with his wife in months. She couldn't work -- their little girl was too young to be left alone or to go to school and they couldn't afford a babysitter. He touched the baby's hair; his heart dropped like a plank had broken in the floor. He was afraid of losing her...

One night, after he had been laid-off from yet another job, William Tanner, at the end of his rope, trudged into a great room filled with thousands of people. There were colorful banners everywhere; jaunty music blared on speakers; signs were held up everywhere with the name of a great man on them. Massive, high-definition television screens showed images of hope in soft-flowing montages. When the man spoke, William listened, enraptured. Most of the words, he didn't understand -- "fiscal" this and "foreign policy" that -- but then the man said: "I will create jobs; families should not struggle any more...the American people will live a life of prosperity before long, so long as they vote for me...believe in me..." Surely a place with this much golden promise would lead him to a better life...