Sometimes God tried to explain this to
the people, but they could not understand. He tried to tell them through
the leaves of trees, and through the songs of birds. He planted His
truth in the eyes of every child, and He waited for the people to see
it. But they would not look, and so they did not see.
The people, however, did love God. They
were fascinated by Him. They adored and feared Him, and they chose
beautiful ways to worship Him. They did not all choose the same way, of
course, because God had long ago breathed into each of these people the
gifts of self-expression and choice. So some of the people heard a hymn
to God in the striking of a bell, and some heard it in the voice of a
man calling them to prayer.
God heard them both. But in time,
another sound started to drown out the hymns He loved. It was the sound
of the people, quarreling among themselves as to whose god God was.
God bowed His head and wept. And the people looked up and said, “Ah, rain.”
For a time, they were distracted, and
they began to speak of weather and soil and geography. But inevitably,
they returned to their arguing. And this time they quarreled about
whose land God’s land was.
“Mine,” said God, whispering the word
through the rustle of leaves. But the people could not hear the word
over the noise of their angers and their fears.
“Yours,” said God, scattering the word
through the songs of birds. But the people were too busy gathering
evidence to spare any time to find the word.
“Ours,” said God, shining the word
through the eyes of children. But the people kept their eyes fixed,
burning with hate, upon each other, and did not notice the word.
Nobody knows the exact day when He
walked quietly away from those 2.77 acres of land, and nobody said
goodbye, because nobody noticed He had left.