The Parable of the Two Lanterns
The Parable of the Two Lanterns
Two men sat in a room lit only by moonlight, each possessing a lantern—one crafted from crystal, the other from clay. They argued through the stillness of the dark.
The man with the clay lantern said, “All we need is a spark. Fire will explain everything.”
The other, holding the crystal lantern, replied, “But why fire? Why not embrace the darkness as it is, bathed in moonlight?”
A third man entered, overhearing their debate. Without a word, he struck a match and lit both lanterns.
Though fueled by the same flame, the two lanterns glowed differently. The clay lantern cast warmth and flickering shadows like a hearth. The crystal lantern scattered rainbows across the walls.
Neither man could see the flame itself—only its effect refracted through their vessels. The man who lit them departed as quietly as he came.
They never learned who he was, whether he had made the fire or merely carried it in. Even into old age, the two men still argue:
“The crystal reveals design, the proof of intelligence,” says one.
“The clay proves purpose, the evidence of intent,” says the other.
Yet neither speaks of the one who lit their lanterns, nor of the fact that neither ever learned to spark the flame on their own.