In ancient times, a certain king
gathered all the blind men in his city. He had one goal in mind—he wanted them
to describe an elephant, but only by touching it.
Each man was allowed to feel just one
part of the animal. One touched the head. Another the ears. Another the tusks.
Some felt the trunk, the belly, the legs, or the tail.
When the king asked what the elephant
was like, the answers were as different as night and day.
“The elephant is like a big water pot,”
said the man who touched its head.
“No, no,” said another, “it’s like a
woven basket,”—he had touched the ears.
Another shouted, “It’s clearly like a
plow!”—he had felt the tusks.
“The elephant is a grain bin,” said the
man who touched the belly.
“The legs feel like strong pillars,”
said one.
And another, who had touched the tail,
confidently said, “It’s a fan, Your Majesty. No doubt about it.”
Soon, they were arguing—each one
convinced his version was the only truth. Voices rose, tempers flared, and no
one listened.
That’s when the king made his point.
People often argue about what they
believe is true, but they may only be seeing a small piece of the bigger
picture. Each of us experiences life through our own narrow window.
But the king added a deeper warning:
“There are some who do not see good or
evil, right or wrong. Yet they argue, quarrel, and wound each other—not with
swords, but with the daggers of their tongues.”
What a reminder.
Before we speak, judge, or argue—maybe
we should ask ourselves: Am I touching just the tail of the elephant?
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