Her name meant many. She lived up to it. Many embraced the
world and all that was in it. She had many friends from many places, multiples
and others and more. She took it all in, the whole of existence, the things
that are and those only dreamed to be. She filled her home and her heart with
them. There was not one thing Many left outside her door. It was all welcome.
In the soul of her home, a small room in the center of it,
Mary gathered the gods of the nations. She prided herself in their presence with
her. Shelves held those she could not hold in her arms, great sculptures of
this and that, twisted arms and gallant poses, proud faces. Her heart held the
mighty, those who were tall or crouched and reaching far and wide, too wide for
a shelf. Her floor was filled with them, idols who were idle, unmovable but
fierce. She loved them all. They served her, as best they could, in that room,
in that one place, without leaving it.
Friend visited her sometimes. Friend’s name meant, well,
friend. She stood outside the room of gods but would not go in.
“What do they do?” Friend asked Many.
Many smiled. She didn’t really have an answer, but she liked
having them there.
“They don’t have to do anything,” she explained. “I do
everything for them.”
Many pulled a small mat from the room into another and
offered it to Friend to sit on.
“I cannot,” said Friend with no explanation.
Many smiled again. She was happy with whatever was said to
her. A yes or a no, it made no difference to her. She was her own joy and was
fine with all else that was someone else’s. Many was like water. She flowed
wherever the world took her.
“I was hoping you’d visit today,” she told Friend. “I have
something to ask you.”
Friend was curious. She leaned in.
Many gathered herself. Motioning to her room of gods, she
addressed Friend with the utmost sincerity.
“I would like a symbol of your god,” she said.
Friend was surprised. Astonished. If Many had known more
about her God she would not have asked such a thing. Her God would eat up all
the rest. There would be no other gods.
“A symbol,” was all Friend could think to say.
“Yes!” Many was excited, “A cross maybe? Or do you have a
statue of Jesus?”
Friend gasped. She didn’t fully understand why that was her
reaction, but she had the sense Many was asking for a ball of fire but had no
idea. It wasn’t disrespect, but lack of knowledge. Jesus is more than a statue
and Many did not know that. Friend had the sudden realization that she had not
told these things to Many and so Many did not know.
“I cannot,” was all she could think to say.
“It doesn’t have to be elaborate,” Many offered. “Jesus was
simple himself, right? A plain wooden cross, maybe? Small, not too big. I don’t
want him blocking out the view of the others.”
Friend nodded. She understood, but Many did not. He would
block out all the others. That is what He does.
She repeated, “I cannot.”
Many suggested she could make one herself and put it in the
room.
Friend was still.
Unbothered, Many fashioned a small wooden cross out of some
sticks from her mantle. Simple, like Jesus, unmoving like her other gods. She
placed it in the middle of the room.
“See?” She said to Friend, “Like that. No big deal.”
She asked Friend to bless it.
“I cannot,” came the awkward reply.
Many, always eager to please, took no offense and merely
offered to bless it herself.
She said simply, “Jesus…” and her voice trailed off.
She froze. Friend froze. The room changed.
“What has happened here?” She asked Friend.
Friend replied simply, “He’s different.”
Suddenly, Many understood.
