Monday, May 01, 2006


A moral lesson especially apt for those tempted to continue doing what , for centuries, has been done thinking it to be 'traditional' having precedential value, and calling it 'the will of God':

by Sam Walter Foss (1858 – 1911)

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;

But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then two hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day,
By a lone dog that passed that way.
And then a wise bell-wether sheep,
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep;
And drew the flock behind him too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.

And many men wound in and out,
And dodged, and turned, and bent about;
And uttered words of righteous wrath,
Because 'twas such a crooked path.
But still they followed - do not laugh -
The first migrations of that calf.
And through this winding wood-way stalked,
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load,
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half,
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare;
And soon the central street was this,
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half,
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout,
Followed the zigzag calf about;
And o'er his crooked journey went,
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led,
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent,
To well established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind,
Along the calf-paths of the mind;
And work away from sun to sun,
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
But how our wise old God would laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah! many things this tale might teach -
But I am not ordained to preach.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

If you don't want to follow the Church's teachings, why not just become a Protestant minister or form your own religious order and not call yourself Catholic? It seems to me that your organization is like the people that move in next to an airport, then complain about the noise of the jets landing.

Since many of your priets have been excommunicated by the Catholic Church, isn't it wrong to call yourself Catholic priests?

I have no probem with your dogma, what I do have a problem with is the intellectual dishonesty practiced when you claim to be Catholic priests, yet don't follow the Catholic Church's teachings. At least Martin Luther and other "revoluntionaries" formed their own religious sects when they disagreed with the Church.