Descent into the Maelstrom

The fishing between the islands offshore of one particular spot on the Norwegian coastline was especially good, but of all the fisherman in the area, only two brothers ever dared to fish there. For twice every day between the islands and the shore, a horrendous whirlpool some half-mile in diameter would form and suck down every object or living thing that came within several miles of it. People called it “The Great Maelstrom.”

One day these two brothers, sure of perfect weather, set sail to the islands, enjoyed a marvelous catch, and then headed home well before the pool was to form. Suddenly, however, the winds changed, standing them. Before they could row back to the islands a hurricane wind was upon them, tossing them wildly about and snapping their mainsail’s mast.

The younger brother clung to a ring bolt at the front of the boat and the elder brother grabbed an empty barrel that was lashed to the back. They rode this way for some time. Suddenly, as they crested a wave, they saw that their tiny boat was heading straight toward the forming pool. In his terror the elder brother at the back lunged and forced the ring bolt from his brother’s hand. This brother did not contest the other’s fear but went to the back and held on to the water cask.

Finally the inevitable moment came and the tiny ship careened into the whirlpool. The younger brother closed his eyes, said a prayer, and waited for certain death. After a moment however, when death hadn’t come, he opened his eyes to find that the boat had not fallen into the abyss but was hanging on the edge of the pool, riding around and around, going slowly down.

Looking up at the sides of the pool and knowing now that death was inevitable, his fear all but left him. He began to notice with fascination that there were many other objects in the pool - trees, boats, furniture. He began to take interest in the differing speeds with which the objects fell and finally plunged into the swirl. As he watched, a stunning realization was forming in his mind: the lighter, cylindrical objects fell more slowly, while the heavier objects dropped more quickly into the abyss.

This realization set his heart pounding and his mind to racing. He knew that their only hope of surviving was to lash themselves to the empty water cask and throw themselves out of the boat. He motioned to his brother and, using hand signals, explained his plan. But his brother dropped his head and gripped the ring ever harder, choosing the familiarity of his boat over the uncertainty of the waters. At last, resigning him to his fate, the younger brother cut free the water cask, lashed himself to it, and jumped into the cold black wall of the pool.

It was just as he had hoped. His barrel sank but little more while the small boat went steadily down and finally hurtled his poor brother to his death. Soon the pool began to change. The whirl began to slow and the bottom to rise up. It wasn’t long before he found himself again on the surface of the water with the shores of his home in sight.

He was picked up early the next morning by fishermen from his own village. But the fishermen knew him not. For when he had left that morning, his hair had been as black as a raven. When they hauled him in, it was as white as snow.

[from Doorways to the Soul: 52 Wisdom Tales from Around the World, ed. by Elisa Davy Pearman. ISBN: 0-8298-1286-5, p. 77. This story is adapted from “Descent into the Maelstrom” by Edgar Allan Poe. I have enjoyed this book and recommend it for those seeking preaching stories. You can visit the author's website here: http://www.wisdomtales.com/]

The Problem of the Homeless

In New York City, there stood a beautiful apartment building. The tenants were understandably proud of their building: they all had fabulous views of the city, the lobby was always impeccable, and their doormen kept the front sidewalk in pristine condition. The tenants lived there very happily for many years. And then one day, the building next door began an extensive renovation project. The scaffolding that was installed proved to be a wonderful shelter from the elements. Soon, the tenants noticed that every night around six o’clock, a group of about twenty people gathered to build sleeping quarters under the scaffolding out of cardboard boxes. In the morning, apartment maintenance men would remove the boxes and the trash and hose down the sidewalk. the homeless people then dispersed until 6 o’clock the next evening.
Soon, co-op meetings were being held to discuss “the problem of the homeless.” “the homeless are dirty!” one tenant cried. “They get drunk and throw up on the sidewalk!” “They’re bums!” said another - “One even asked me for money the other day!” “They could be deranged,” said a young couple. The consensus was quickly reached: the homeless were dangerous.

A woman named Mary Ann stood up to speak. “I’ve watched these homeless,” she said. “I’ve seen outreach counselors from the homeless coalition speaking with them about other options, but I notice it’s the same people who return night after night. They choose to remain here. Perhaps we should realize that they are our neighbors now. They seem to be a pretty quiet group, and I haven’t seen any signs of violence among them.”

An awkward silence followed. Then the discussion began again: “I’ll speak to the building manager,” one woman said. “Perhaps if we stopped cleaning up after them, they’d leave.” “I think we should call the police,” said another man. “We could tell them that the homeless have been threatening us. Maybe they can force them to move.” “Where would they go?” said Mary Ann. “To someone else’s street!” several voices replied.

The meeting ended. But several days later, Mary Ann overheard a conversation in the lobby. “We need to talk to Mary Ann again about the homeless,” a woman said. “I think she’s feeding them.”

[from Spiritual Literacy by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat]

Feed Your Wolf

There is a story about some people who lived in a beautiful village in Italy in the 13th century. They were understandably proud of their little village, as it was quite an idyllic place to live. But one night a shadow came out of the nearby woods. The shadow prowled the streets. In the morning, a local farmer found that many chickens from his farm had been killed or taken away. The next night, the same thing happened - the time another farmer was the victim. This happened again and again. Finally, an old woman said that she had seen a wolf on the streets at night. The terrified people decided to ask a holy man who had a reputation for being able to talk to animals for help. They sent a delegation to get St. Francis.

They had very specific ideas on what St. Francis should tell the wolf. First, he should prech to the wolf and remind him to obey the commandment about stealing and to follow Christ’s commandment about loving God and neighbors. And then, just in case, since a wolf is, after all, a wolf, he should tell the wolf to move to someone else’s village.

Francis went into the forest to meet the strange shadow, addressing it as “Brother Wolf.” Then he returned to the town square. “My good people,” he said, “the answer is very simple. You must feed our wolf.” The people were furious, especially with the suggestion that this uninvited beast in their midst was somehow to be regarded as “their wolf.” But they did feed it, and the killing stopped.