Anders: A Parable

ANDERS: A PARABLE

Anders would always remember—not the wedding—but the priceless gift he received from the bride’s father. Hannah was a striking woman, tall but softly rounded about the edges, with huge grey eyes that could look into Anders’ soul. For years those expressive eyes had haunted him while he courted, teased, and even begged Hannah to be his. To his relief, gratification, sense of wholeness she had said yes, promising to love and cherish him forever. Anders was not a little jealous of his bride’s love and expressed his anxiety to his father-in-law. “How can I know she will love me forever? What will guarantee our togetherness? I fear another will come along to gather her, heart and soul, to himself leaving me a lone and a lonely man.”

Hannah’s father clapped the worried young man on his shoulder. “I have just the thing,” he reassured him. When the angels above gave her to us, they also gave us this golden necklace holding a perfect diamond. They had charmed her and this talisman, such that she would never leave us until we gave the necklace to another. We have chosen you as much as she has.” He then looped the golden scales that formed the chain over Anders’ head. “She is now yours.”

He never took it off. Hannah occasionally asked him about it, even wondered whether it might have been a gift from another woman; Anders refused to speak to her of the necklace or its charm. Nevertheless, he did not completely trust the angels so he spent his life gathering dozens, then hundreds of gifts to give Hannah, hoping to buy her love as well as her eyes.

Anders was not a bad man, not in the usual sense. He had never killed anyone, never had an affair; he paid all his bills, and worked hard. On the other hand, he was truly an incorrigible thief. Of course, he didn’t see things that way. His rule simply was, “My property is my property.” Unfortunately that included any of his neighbors’ sheep, donkeys, or cattle that happened to wander onto his land. He excused himself by insisting that he did absolutely nothing to tempt them within his boundaries. However, his own fences were a league within his property line and without fences to keep animals out, neighbors’ beasts, not knowing any better, felt free to be curious about the stacked hay or vegetable garden beside the house. Once they were on his land, the animals were his and nothing, not even clear brands, could persuade Anders to return them to their original owners. He simply replaced their brand with his own and shuttled the animals onto his fenced property reminding Hannah with each one that it was his generous gift to her.

She knew his greed. She knew what he did. It hurt her heart. “Anders,” scolded his wife. “This is wrong. You are a thief! You do not need to give me such gifts. I have promised to be yours alone for always.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he replied. He ignored her distress. “If people want to keep their belongings, they should keep them where they can see them on their own land!”

“I am ashamed,” she replied, and refused to sheer any sheep he had collected in this way, never used the donkeys to drive her cart to market, and balked at even milking the cows she knew he had stolen.

Her traitorous behavior was tolerated by Anders because he loved her so much. She with the grey eyes was his and only his. He was wealthy enough to hire others’ hands, and by the time his children were old enough, he gave them the chores Hannah might otherwise have done.

Also, there were several things that Anders did not notice while he was cleverly increasing his herds. First of all, the neighbors never seemed to lose their tempers nor their financial status because of his thievery. He had wanted them to suffer, if only a little, to lower their value in the eyes of his wife. However,  it seemed that they always had enough for their needs. And, once the initial shock wore off they came to expect Anders’ behavior, though they resented him. What’s more, they never allowed their children to play with Anders’ half dozen young ones who longed for friendship.

“He will steal our children, too,” the other mothers worried—even feared—because Anders was determinedly obsessed with keeping whatever wandered into his yard, including hay or fruits, or vegetables that fell from their market carts onto his unfenced land as they drove to town. And inevitably, he proudly brought these goods to Hannah as further evidence of his generosity.

He never noticed the tears in Hannah’s eyes, or when she rolled them heavenward at these presentations. She was not a greedy person. She had vowed years before to never leave him. It was not in her nature. Was that not enough?

Finally, Anders never realized that none of his neighbors responded in kind to his greediness. If ever an animal escaped Anders’ sturdy fences, and wandered away, each of his neighbors returned the vagrant animals. What insulted his neighbors even further was his response when they returned his things. They might say, “Here’s your lamb,” or “Your dog has been on our property,” “I’m bringing him/it/them back to you.”

“Good,” Anders said and took custody without another word.

Anders rarely considered his actions. According to him, people were just people and never changed. Their behavior, like his, was just the way they were. When reprimanded again by his wife, he responded, “What? Me, change? Nobody else does. This is just the way I am.” And his justified his greediness by noting how well he provided for his family and how successful he had become financially. Secretly he knew that Hannah would never find another who could provide for her as well as he did.

On rare occasions, he might look reflectively from the second story walkway around his stucco house and remark on the ineptitude of his neighbors. “They had no chance for financial success,” he’d think. “How can they possibly care for their families? Property means nothing to them. Look, even old man Erickson gives meals to the travelers who come through the neighborhood. Martha takes laundry in for Esther whenever she is ill. Nathaniel spends more time helping Thomas with his home repairs than he does in his own fields. I, only I, care enough about my family to focus on gathering stores to provide for them.”

Or he might rub his pendant and consider, “I am the only one who could deserve my Hannah. She is mine because I have collected her heart along with my other possessions.”

Critical as he was of his neighbors, Anders never noticed that no one ever came to call on him, didn’t see the loneliness in his wife’s grey eyes when the women gathered to chat but never invited her, or the longing hands and feet of his children who were never called to play games.

Anders was ultimately most irritated whenever someone would come to his door asking for assistance or money. “Surely you could share a dollar for the Church.” “Wouldn’t you come to the neighborhood social and bring a dish?” “Janessa is ill, could you take in a meal?” “A neighbor has died, leaving his family without means, have you a sheep or a donkey you could give?” He nearly hated these people. He began to watch neighbors, suspiciously thinking they wanted something they didn’t deserve. What? Did they think he’d give up his precious possessions to someone who did nothing to work for them? It wasn’t long before there were no more requests. No more visitors at all.

Inevitably, people die. What happens to them then? Ordinarily they go to the exact place they imagined. Some to a beautiful city with streets paved with gold and diamond windows and doors. Others find themselves on a new journey, some even with repeated journeys back to earthlife as they evolve into something majestic, wonderful, or more beautiful than they had been. Still others awake to find they have become a part of the universe: love, kindness, energy, spirit.

In Anders’ case, he imagined vast green fields, a singing river, massive oak trees, and pleasant times with angelic companions. He wasn’t sure about the harp-playing angels he’d seen pictures of, but he was game to give it a try. All he wanted and had obtained during his earthlife, he somehow expected would be regifted him in this eternal realm. In Anders case, he was almost exactly right. Yes, there were the waving grasslands, a zephyr, a melodic river, and white, fruitful trees. But he was immediately disappointed that whenever he reached for the white, bright fruit, it gently pulled away from his grasping fingers, just far enough away to keep tempting him, but far enough away that he could not hold it in his hands. He resented this: he could not possess everything he saw.

Then he looked around for creatures to possess. There were all the things he had owned on earth. Dozens more sheep, donkeys, cattle, and even more barns than he had erected through his acquisitiveness on earth. Every day there appeared more. Every day there were more beasts to count. Every morning, as the sun rose, he walked through his fields, counting and numbering replicas of each of his earthly possessions, the gifts that he knew he would be able to give to Hannah when she finally came to him.

And how did he know this? The necklace, of course. Not knowing to what else to do, Hannah and his children had buried it with him still looped around his neck. He would spend time each day, rubbing the stone, as he had done during earth life, anticipating the welcome he would have for his wife and the mother of their children.

He sought companionship, but groups of people–surely they were angels, but they, like the fruit, always seemed to  just be out of calling reach. He would motion to them. Call out occasionally, but no one ever responded. He had not desired friends during his life before as he saw them as competition for his wife’s affections and ownership of his crops and beasts. These contented beings appeared to need nothing. Disappointed that he had no one to talk to, Anders did something he had never done before, he felt sorry for himself, then angry at himself, and roared for someone, anyone, to pay attention. No one did.

But, one day while he sat in despair, an angel appeared at his side. This angel, dressed in white, did not carry a harp, but a small book. The dark binding held no title, but the cover read, The Book of Lost Souls. The angel did not speak, but opened the book and turned each page for Anders to read. As he looked, Anders saw his own name written over and over again. The pages even seemed to whisper darkly, Anders. Anders. Anders.

He still did not understand. “Tell me,” he asked the angel who stared down at him sternly, “what does this mean?” Instead of the angel’s speaking, Anders suddenly saw in his mind’s eye the consequences of his actions--or non-actions as they were. He saw an incomplete church, missing a roof, no holy place for people to attend. He saw his children longing, listening to joyful music coming from a mile away where a community was gathering to celebrate. He saw his wife staring out the windows of the luxurious home he had provided her, with dust-cloth in hand, and tears streaming down her face, as women holding hands skipped by, singing. He saw Janessa, fevered and hungry, as well as a young mother with her children, destitute begging for alms. Slowly, Anders’ stony cold heart melted and he cried, for a moment, for those he had refused to help, for those from whom he had stolen, for his own family that, he now realized, could never completely love him. He had stolen their time, their respect, their trust, their friendships, and finally, their love. Then he cried for himself.

Deeply saddened at seeing all the neighbors at the periphery of his life who had first needed and then ignored him, all he wanted now was Hannah. She would understand him. She would finally appreciate all that he had done, the property he had given her and now could continue to give to her.

He looked up at the angel who stared flint-eyed back at him. “What am I to do?” begged Anders.

Without replying, the angel snapped the book closed and held it directly in front of Anders’ eyes where he could plainly see, The Book of Lost Souls. Then the angel vanished.

Standing alone, Anders became thoughtful. The redundancy of the daily count of more and more beasts to number began to wear on him. The sameness of being successful every day in acquiring more made him uncomfortable. What was the sense of all this property, (yes, he realized, stolen property) if he had no one to give it to? The diamond bobbed suddenly against his chest. He still had Hannah. She would always be his.

If he had thought of a judgment day at all, he was certain that, as in life, he would be rewarded with exactly what he deserved—all he wanted would be his. But now he feared that judgment day when he would be rewarded with exactly what he deserved. This thought nagged at him, irritated him, concerned him.

To calm himself, he turned his attention again to his wife, his greatest prize. What was Hannah doing now without him? Surely she was distraught. With all he owned, he could make her happy again. When would she come to receive his possessions, and be possessed?

Suddenly, Anders’ heaven shook and a wide vista opened before his face. What he saw disturbed him even more than the angel’s visit had. He saw what was happening in the world he left. There were his children fussing, no, fighting, about whose “turn” it was to go visit his grave. No one wanted to go. In the nave of the church were candles parishioners lit for departed souls, their loved ones. His was candle was there, but it sat unlit and forgotten in the farthest corner of the flickering candled shelves. He looked back at his house, now carefully fenced in with an open gate. The pasture was nearly empty with only a half-dozen sheep, a single cow and a pair of bright mules. Hannah was standing outside of the yard where he had expected her to be. She was in the street surrounded by laughing women. And she was laughing as well. A small tribe of young men and their older friends approached the group, waved to the women clustered together, and joined them. There were many fond looks directed toward his Hannah, who batted her large grey eyes and smiled as he had not seen since their wedding.  

He reeled back horrified, unremembered, unconsidered. And he realized with an insight he did not know he had, he owned nothing. No one. Without him, his family finally received gifts that he had intended to give them all along but, as a thief of possessions, of happiness, of trust, even love—he had failed.

The scales of the necklace shuddered against his skin. The diamond was warm. It grew heavier and the chain bit into his neck as he, white fisted, clutched the talisman linking Hannah to him. She was the only thing he completely and totally owned. Because of that necklace, he possessed the only thing he had ever wanted. Yet, he now understood, taking Hannah’s freedom was the cruelest thing he had ever stolen. Anders knew that he could return the diamond to his wife, thereby giving Hannah her liberty. Throughout his entire life he had never given anything away. And, in losing his finest possession, he would then face his greatest fear:  being a lone, and a lonely man. He did not know whether he could.