I want to share the text of a story which has taken on personal
significance recently and a short reflection on it. I typed the text of it in
this blog, but it is worth adding to your personal or family’s collection
whether you have teenagers or toddlers. The watercolor illustrations also
complement the text gorgeously and are worth the $18.00 investment. It is
called, Old Turtle and the Broken Truth
and was given to our JV community by Cat Keating, a recent FJV from our Dar
community!
Old Turtle and the Broken
Truth
by Douglas Wood, Watercolors by Jon J. Muth
“Once, in a beautiful, faraway land . . . that was, somehow, not
so very far . . . a land where every stone was a teacher and every breeze a
language, where every lake was a mirror and every tree a ladder to the stars,
into this far and lovely land there fell . . . a truth. It streaked down from
the stars, trailing a tail as long as the sky. But as it fell, it broke.
One of the pieces blazed off through the night sky, and the other
fell to earth in the beautiful land. In the morning, Crow found the fallen
piece. It seemed to be a sort of stone, shiny and pleasing to the eye. He
picked it up. “This is a lovely truth,” said Crow. “I will keep it.” And he
carried it away. But after he had held it for awhile, and examined it closely,
Crow said, “This truth does not feel quite right. A part of it is missing. I
will look for a whole one.” He flew off and dropped it to the ground.
Other creatures who liked shiny things soon noticed the truth as
well-- Fox, Coyote, Raccoon, each picked it up and carried it awhile. But they,
too, found that it had rough edges and was difficult to carry, and its sparkle
soon lost its appeal. “We do not need this broken truth.” they said. “We will
find a whole one.”
Butterfly and Bear also discovered the truth, drawn by its
sweetness. But each found that it left a bitter taste after all. “There is
something missing in this truth,” they thought. And they left it alone.
After awhile, none of the creatures even noticed the broken truth
anymore, and it lay on the ground, forgotten.
Then a human being found it. He was walking slowly, listening to
breezes, gazing at beauties above and below and all around him, when he found
the broken truth. On it was writing, and the writing said: “You are loved.” The
man held it carefully, thinking it was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He
tucked the broken truth into a safe place and kept it. Sometimes he would take
it out and admire it. And the truth sparkled just for him, and whispered its
message to him alone. And the man thought he had never felt so proud and so
happy.
The man took this wonderful truth to his people-- those who lived
with him, who spoke as he spoke and dressed as he dressed and whose faces
looked like his. And together they cherished their newfound truth and believed
in it. They hugged it to themselves and it became their most important
possession.
After awhile, the man and his people did not hear the language of
the breezes and stones anymore, but heard only their truth. They did see the
mirrored beauty in the lakes, or the ladders to the stars, but saw only their
sparkling truth. And for them, it was enough. And they called it . . . “The
Truth.”
The Truth made the people feel good and proud and strong. But
soon they also began to feel fear and even anger toward those who were not like
themselves and did not share their truth. The other beings and other people of
the lovely land seemed less and less important. And the language of the breezes
was hardly ever heard anymore.
Time passed, and other people said, “We must have this Great
Truth for ourselves, for with it comes happiness and power.” Many battles were
fought, and the broken truth was won and lost, won and lost, over and over
again. But such was its power and beauty that no one ever doubted it, and when
they were without it, they felt a great emptiness where their truth had been.
The stones and trees suffered. The breezes and waters suffered,
and the animals, and the earth . . . And most of all, the people suffered.
Finally, the animals went to Old Turtle-- ancient and wise as the
mountains and seas themselves. Crow and Fox went. Coyote went. Raccoon,
Butterfly, Bear and many others. All went to see Old Turtle.
“This truth the people quarrel over,” they said, “we have all
held it ourselves. It is broken and does not work. Please tell the people.”
“I am sorry,” answered Old Turtle, “but the people will not
listen. They are not yet ready.”
And the suffering continued.
Until one day . . . a Little Girl came to find Old Turtle. She
had traveled very far, had crossed the Mountains of Imagining and the River of
Wondering Why, had found her way through the Forest of Finding Out. And when
she had grown tired, she had ridden on the backs of animals or the wings of
birds, and they had helped her find her way.
Finally they came to a great hill in the very center of the
world. From there, the Little Girl thought she had never seen so far, or seen
so much beauty.
But when she saw Old Turtle, she could hardly speak. She simply
looked with eyes full of wonder.
“Why have you come so far to find me, Little One?” asked Old
Turtle. Her voice rumbled like far away thunder, but was as soft as the breeze
through the caterpillar’s whiskers.
“I . . . I wanted to ask a question,” answered the Little Girl.
“Where I live, the earth is sore and people are suffering. Battles are fought,
over and over again. People say it has always been this way and will never
change. Can it change, Old Turtle? Can we make it change?”
Old Turtle spoke, “The world as you describe is not the world
that has always been, Little One.”
Then Old Turtle told of how the people had found the broken
truth, and the suffering it had caused. “It is because it is so close to a
great, whole truth that it has such beauty, and that the people love it so,”
said Old Turtle. “It is the lost portion of that broken truth that the people
need, if the world is to be made whole again.”
“But where is the missing piece?” asked the Little Girl. “Can we
put the truth back together again?”
“First, my child,” said the Old Turtle, “remember that there are
truths all around us, and within us. They twinkle in the night sky and bloom
upon the earth. They fall upon us every day, silent as the snow and gentle as
the rain. The people, clutching their one truth, forget that it is part of all
of the small and lovely truths of life. They no longer see these truths, no
longer hear them.
“But . . . perhaps, Little One, you can . . .”
“I -- I’ll try,” said the Little Girl.
And she thought once more of her long journey. She looked upon
all the beauty that surrounded her, from the far hills to the flowers beneath
her feet. She saw the movement of the clouds and the soaring of birds and the
dancing of light upon the green and living earth. She heard the whispering of a
breeze.
And gradually . . . a feeling came over her, as though all the
world were made of truths. As if the world had been made just for her and she
had been made for it. And she felt a secret smile somewhere deep inside . . .
and thought that, perhaps, she understood.
She looked once again at Old Turtle, her eyes more filled with
wonder than before.
Old Turtle spoke again.
“Remember this also, Little One,” she said. “The Broken Truth,
and life itself, will be mended only when one person meets another-- someone
from a different place or with a different face or different ways-- and sees
and hears . . . herself. Only then will the people know that every person,
every being, is important, and that the world was made for each of us.”
For a long time then the two friends were quiet, high on their
hill in the very center of the world. And in her heart the Little Girl thought
she could see other people in other beautiful lands, people with their own
ways, their own truths . . . people different from her own, but still, somehow,
The People.
Finally, the Little Girl asked one more question, “Old Turtle,
how will the people learn these things?”
“By seeking out those small and simple truths all around them,”
said Old Turtle. “By listening once more to the language of breezes, by
learning lessons from the stones and animals and trees and stars. Even
turtles,” she chuckled, “and little girls.
“Now, Little One, it is time for you to go, to return to your
people and tell them what you have seen and learned, and to help them mend
their Broken Truth.
“Take this with you,” said Old Turtle, as she placed something in
the Little Girl’s hand. “I have saved it for a very long time, for someone just
like you.”
The Little Girl looked at what the Old Turtle had given her. It
was a kind of stone, a mysterious, beautiful stone. It was lovely to touch, and
it made her feel good to hold it.
She squeezed it tightly, then tucked it away for her journey.
“Thank you, Old Turtle,” she said, and hugged her friend’s great,
leathery neck.
And then she started home.
Once more she traveled through the Forest of Finding Out, crossed
the River of Wondering Why and the Mountains of Imagining, Crow led the way,
and again when the Little Girl grew tired, all her animal friends helped. She
sometimes touched the stone the Old Turtle had given her to renew her strength.
And it took a long time yet almost no time at all . . .
And she was home.
But it had been a very long journey, and those who take great
journeys of the heart are changed.
The people did not recognize her. And when she spoke, they did
not understand. She told them of her journey, but the people could not follow
her words. She spoke of a world made of small and gentle truths, of all the
peoples being one People. But they could not catch her meaning. She explained
about the Broken Truth and the need to make it whole. But the people did not
believe her and could not understand.
Finally, Crow, seeing all that had happened, flew to the place
high above the village where the Great Truth was kept, in a place where all
could see it. He cawed and cawed in his loudest voice. And suddenly the Little
Girl knew what to do. She climbed to the high place herself. She took the Old
Turtle’s stone from her pocket and . . .
carefully . . . added the missing piece to the old, broken one.
The fit was perfect. “You are loved and so are they.” The people
looked. And looked. And looked. Some frowned. Some smiled. Some even laughed.
And some cried. And they began to understand.
Time passed and upon the beautiful land the trees climbed like
ladders to the stars, the waters shone like mirrors, and the people saw their
beauty. A breeze stirred and they heard its music. Tiny truths fell by day and
night, gentle as the rain and snow, and the people found them and kept them in
their hearts.
And slowly, as the people met other people different from
themselves, they began to see . . . themselves.
And far away, on a hill in the very center of the world . . .
Old Turtle smiled.”
I have been reflecting on this story as I begin to see myself and
my loved ones in my neighbors and students and even in my community mates who
look a little more like myself than say, my students. I have also been
reflecting on this story in light of building religious tension in Zanzibar.
There has been an increase in violence toward Christians, particularly
Catholics, in Zanzibar in the past few months and weeks which seems to mirror
the battles described in this story. Religion is a tricky thing, you see. It
can be an incredibly unifying force in the world, as I have experienced in
tangible ways. When my grandfather passed away just a few weeks ago, I found
deep comfort in being able to celebrate Mass with my students on the day of his
funeral when my family and friends were gathered together celebrating his life.
We said the same prayers and received the same nourishing truth in the
Eucharist despite the miles which separated us. I have found community in
attending daily Mass at Loyola and I have found friendship in the religious
sisters teaching at Loyola. One sister is from India, another from Uganda,
another from Tanzania. I begin my day with these strong women from different
corners of the world celebrating a common faith and worshipping a common God.
Religion has the power to unify and foster community when it is
at its best. Religion also has the power to create impenetrable boundaries,
violence and war as we have seen throughout history. You don’t have to look
far. Open a newspaper and you can read about relentless religious violence in
the Middle East, stubborn resistance toward building mosques throughout Europe
or political vitriol arguing religion’s place in marriage, abortion, poverty,
healthcare, unemployment, etc. Our human history is fraught with
religiously-motivated violence and wars.
Of course, religious truths are not the only ones we cling to. We
have as many or more cultural truths in which we seek comfort and refuge-
truths which do have value and tremendous importance to individuals and whole
communities, truths which can shape individuals and communities in
life-affirming ways. The problem comes when we fail to see the value in the
variety of truths of religion or culture which exists in the world. The problem
comes when we cling to our truths with clenched fists or defend our truths with
tanks and guns.
The message of this short story seems so simple, “You are loved
and so are they.” But, at the same time, we can see why clinging to our broken
truth is so attractive. Our happiness and personal interests and livelihoods
are at stake. We can understand why the man clings to his broken truth, why he
guards it and worships it and why others want to seize it for their own
happiness. We are human and we are flawed, like the religions we cling to, but
we also possess the potential to create communities and recognize the truth in
each other and the truths in creation. Unlike the animals in this story, we
have the capacity to create communities, to love each other and to grow closer
to God by seeing Him or Her in all things- in all people, even the ones who
worship a different god . . . in all experiences, even the really difficult,
heartbreaking ones . . . in all of creation, even the ugly, broken parts.
We have the capacity to recognize common truths in each other and
in all of creation. It can be really difficult at times, it can feel like we’re
losing parts of ourselves in the process, parts of ourselves that we value and
call our whole ‘self,’ but the self that we can become when we do this is much
closer to the whole truth than the partial piece we now cling to. As humans, I
believe, we are called to seek this whole truth in each other and in creation .
. . and the good news is that we don’t have to move to Tanzania for two years
to do it either!
