The Book of Otter: Systematic Theology
Sunday, March 20, 2011 at 7:08AM | by Otter 
A young disciple was walking with Father Otter, and asking him how best to think of god and the scriptures.
"The sacred texts," said the young disciple, "are very large. "How shall we know what they mean?"
The Otter beamed at him, turned abruptly into a thicket, and said nothing.
As they walked, they came to an opening in the trees. A great field filled with flowers stretched out before them. They heard a faint sound of thunder. Silently, they walked through the field of purple, red, blue, yellow, and green. The flowers brushed against their ankles and a sweet scent was all around them.
The thundering grew louder, and suddenly they came to the edge of the field, and at their feet lay a great chasm. Below them the river thundered against sharp rocks.
The young disciple, frightened out of his questions, looked down in horror.
"We must turn back, Father. We cannot pass."
"Oh, no," said the Otter. "Just you take some of those flowers there, and weave us a bridge."
The young otter looked at him, aghast, thinking (not for the first time) that being a disciple involves a great deal of wondering What The Hell.
The old Otter smiled at him and said, "You ask the texts to bear a weight that is ill-suited to them. To cross the chasm of knowing God, you will have to find another way, something less beautiful, something harder. You say the texts are too large for your purposes... I say, they are too small. And too beautiful. And too various. Like a field of flowers."
"Then... what should one use, if not the flowers of the scriptures?"
The Old Otter felt the young otter's arms thoughtfully.
"You have good strong bones," he said at last. "We should start with them."
Photograph by Otter-Daughter. Copyright 2011
Reader Comments (4)
Soooooooo . . . Father Otter is going to build a bridge of the disciple's bones? That doesn't seem very nice.
Your Father Otter is so dreadfully and delightfully sinister. Ever thought of expanding these vignettes into short stories?
Isn't there some Bible passage (obviously obscure enough to escape my memory) about the knowledge of God being written in our very bones?
Great post. Also,it looks as though the Otter-daughter has quite the keen eye for photographs :)