Shrines
Abhidevananda
may have been rich or poor, right or wrong, but still it was the
greatest and most important village in the whole world.
In the center of that village stood a temple, the tallest and most
beautiful building of that burg. All the village people, or at least
most of them, used to visit that temple to learn the lessons of
so-called virtue and vice from the temple's custodian. Quite naturally,
the first principle of right conduct was to take good care of the
"holy" man and his family.
Now, this priest had a son. When that son reached the first days of his
manhood, he decided to abandon the easy life he had enjoyed in order to
seek his own fortune - the Truth - in the great unknown outside the
village gates. So, taking a young donkey as his mount, he bade a fond
farewell to family and friends and rode off on his noble quest.
Years passed, and ever that youth journeyed hither and thither, over
mountain and through valley, but somehow he never could find that truth
- or fortune - for which his heart yearned. One day, as he rested at a
crossroads, pondering the direction he should take, his donkey just
fell down and died. For quite a while, that donkey had been his one and
only trusty companion, so the yound man felt it his duty to give the
creature a proper burial. Thereafter, he sat by the grave, mourning the
loss of his friend and, even more, mourning his own hapless condition.
Day after day he remained there, weeping beside the grave of his
donkey. Then, one fine morning a caravan arrived at the crossroads. The
simple people of the caravan thought that surely a very great saint had
just died and been buried there. They could imagine no other
justification for the young man's tears and his distracted condition.
Hence they decided to halt their journey in order to erect an altar
over the donkey's grave and a small temple around that altar.
After the construction was completed, the members of the caravan
endowed the young man with a regular allowance and charged him with the
duty of custodian for their new shrine. The people of that caravan felt
that they had performed a great religious work and had thereby acquired
much merit in the Kingdom of Heaven. Some of them even felt so inspired
that they decided to settle down at that crossroads, where they could
look after the further expansion of their temple and perhaps do a
little business "on the side". Soon a small but thriving community was
established, and right in the middle of that community was the temple
overseen by that young man, himself the son of another temple
custodian.
As things turned out, this new village was not very far from the one
where the young man's father presided. And it was only natural that one
day the father made pilgrimage to this new religious site, where
already many miracles were said to have occurred. Thus after many long
years of separation, father and son were reunited. Their tears of
happiness flowed together like two great streams merging into one
gigantic river.
After exchanging news of family for news of the young man's adventures,
the proud father enquired as to how his son came to be custodian of
this important new temple. The young man felt somewhat abashed.
Finally, he confessed: "Father, it is all a mistake. No saint is buried
underneath that altar. There rests only the remains of my unfortunate
donkey."
The elder man started to laugh. Still smiling, he confided: "Son, there
is no mistake here. Underneath the altar in my temple, you would also
find nothing but the skeleton of an old donkey."