Rabbi ! shares a parable

You may be wondering, Dear Reader, why I, S Harry Zade, don’t come right out and tell you what happened to the Geeky Guy and the Lisping Barista. Why do I dick around with these long digressions? What is it with the rabbit trail of the Weather Beaten Man in a Cowboy Hat? Who cares about the agonies and the ecstasy of Kenilworth’s resident saint when there’s real action going on. Time is money, you might be saying; let’s get on with it. Enough of this swirling around suburban streets; where’s the highway? Indeed, enough of the journey; it’s time we arrived at our destination. Are we there yet?

Similarly, you may also be wonder why I, S Harry Zade, as a literary stylist, don’t favor the pared down style of simple, direct, and unadorned prose that’s so much in vogue. Less, is more, the writing teachers say. Take out all necessary words say the resident geniuses at Bread Loaf and Iowa Writers Workshop. Remove everything but the minimal necessary to convey meaning. A journalistic style was good enough for Hemingway; why isn’t it good enough for me?

Well, there’s a couple reasons why. One practical; the other deep. The practical reason is that I’m a fictional character whose sole purpose in life is to be your narrator. I live to tell stories and will get killed off the moment I’m done telling them. In a sense, I’m paid by the hour and will linger by the time clock for as long as I can before I punch out.

The deep reason is why you should indulge me. It’s what you get out of it. It justifies bushwhacking through the brambles when you could be at camp, eating s’mores by the fire, already, before stretching out for an early bed. Of course, I can’t just tell you the deep reason; I have to impart it my own way.

It reminds me of another sermon by the Laughing Rabbi, as he told it to us at the Epiphany Cafe.

There was a man who lived way up in the hills and ate nothing but raw wheat, which he grew himself. Day in and day out, nothing but plain wheat.

It sounded horrible to us. No caramel almond milk lattes, no peanut butter cookies as big as a dinner plate, no cheesy smushed paninis, no scones, no danishes; why, not even any sandwich wraps.

The man came to town one day, got hungry, and looked for something to eat. None of the stores had raw wheat. None of the restaurants served raw wheat. He walked into a bakery. They had something which they called bread.

They sold him some bread. It had a hard, flaky crust on the outside and a soft, warm, fragrance inside. The showed him how to drizzle honey on it and he ate.

How did you like it?” asked the baker.

“Oh, it’s OK,” said the man from the hills. “What’s in it?”

The baker said, “This bread is made from wheat.”

The man was still hungry. He pointed to another object in the baker’s display case.

“What is that?” he asked.

“That’s a croissant,” said the baker.

“I’ll have that,” said the man from the hills.

He ate the croissant with strawberry jam, just like they showed him.

“How do you like it?” asked the baker.

“Oh, it’s OK,” said the man from the hills. “What’s in it?”

“It’s made from wheat, ground into a fine, white flour. There’s also lots of butter.”

The man was still hungry. He pointed to another object in the baker’s display case.

“What is that?” he asked.

“That’s a chocolate cupcake,” said the baker.

“I’ll have that,” said the man. He ate the chocolate cupcake.

“How do you like it?” asked the baker.

“Oh, it’s OK,” said the man from the hills. “What’s in it?”

“It’s also made from a finely ground, wheat flour. I’ve added chocolate and shortening and it’s topped with a creamy frosting.”

Finally, the man was full. It was time for him to leave. The man had to go back home to the hills.

“Can I get you anything to take home with you?” asked the baker. “Besides bread, croissants, and cupcakes, I also have biscotti, danish, muffins, scones, turnovers, cookies, pies, tarts, cakes, baguettes, and rolls. Maybe you’d like to try them?”

“What are all those made out of?”

“Basically, wheat.”

“Why would I take anything home with me? I already have wheat, and eat wheat every day. If wheat is the basic ingredient of everything you make, then I’ve already had it all.”

The laughing rabbi laughed. We didn’t laugh. As laughing rabbi stories go, this was one of his better stories; but, what did it mean? We didn’t get the point.

Ever since the enlightenment, Western men and women have been preoccupied with narrowing everything down to the essentials. This has resulted in the elocution of the laws of physics and all the advances of science; but it has also given us reductionism in philosophy and fundamentalism in religion. It’s brought us impersonal architecture, unrecognizable art, and incomprehensible literature. We have turned people into numbers and governance into bureaucracy. We would just as soon interact with machines than people. We’ve dismissed everything that makes life worth living as mere fluff. We have become a civilization of wheat eaters.

So, there you have it. What would you rather have, Dear Reader? Bread, croissants, and cupcakes, biscotti, danish, muffins, scones, turnovers, cookies, pies, tarts, cakes, baguettes, and rolls, or raw wheat?

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S. Harry Zade

Writing a blog keeps me alive.

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