Playing with Parables

About a year ago, when introduced to flash fiction through ACW, I tried writing a parable for the first time. As a Biblical fiction writer, I thought the parable would be the perfect medium for combining biblical themes and shortness. Recently, I had another go, thanks to a challenge from the lovely Joy Margetts. I’ll share my efforts with you in a moment.

Firstly though, what makes a parable a parable? Well, I'm not really an expert. I'm just going to share some thoughts here and you can agree or disagree as you wish. In my theology degree, we analysed Jesus’ parables from a literary perspective. There were three broad groups of parables, but also a surprising amount of variation, and no-one seemed to come up with a satisfactory solution to categorise or explain all of them.

The Oxford Dictionary defines parables thus:

A simple story used to illustrate a moral or spiritual lesson, as told by Jesus in the Gospels.

Other dictionaries leave out the bit about Jesus, emphasising the allegorical nature of parables. But are they always allegorical (I’m thinking of The Rich man and Lazarus)? And whilst Jesus is the most famous parable-teller, there have been others.

I recently read Jenny Sanders' soon-to-be-published “Charlie Peach’s Pumpkins and other stories.” Wonderful short stories told in Jenny’s fabulously funny and eloquent voice, each one offers a moral point—not explicitly, but delightfully hidden within. Could we term these parables?

Perhaps, but Jenny informs me they weren’t intentionally thus. So, let’s try to narrow this down. Parables are not just moral stories. I suspect most stories carry the author’s moral framework and have a lesson within—character arcs wouldn’t go anywhere if the characters never learnt anything. But parables are short—more like flash fiction than the 3-5,000 word-ish short story. 

And parables are simple. They often take an ordinary thing and use it to explore an extraordinary thing. Or a natural thing to explore a supernatural thing. Jesus’ audience were shepherds and farmers. To them, sheep and seed were everyday things. Not all allegories have this simplicity aspect. Many of them are enormously complicated!

This last feature also takes us outside the realm of good, wholesome stories and into the realm of philosophy and religion. Whilst parables don’t have to explore religious themes, they usually do. Many of Jesus' parables are about The Kingdom of Heaven. And after all, we are the Association of Christian Writers, so we don't need to be bashful here.

All that said, the challenge I accepted, which I extend to you, dear reader, is this: Take a biblical parable and rewrite it for a modern audience. 

The rules:

1.  Pray about it! Before you start engaging with kingdom stories, it's always a good idea to take it to the King.

2. Be sure to engage the emotion of your audience without watering down the underlying message. Make it relatable. What are some ordinary things for your audience that could point to matters of eternal significance? 

3. Keep it short and simple. Parables are extended metaphors and, like any metaphor, they distort or break when pushed too far. 

Here's mine. Does it follow the rules? I'm not entirely sure. Can you guess which parable I rewrote? 

Over to you...

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a Conductor who hand-picked his orchestra, selecting and mentoring each musician and teaching them the intricacies of the music – the rise and fall, the intonation, where to pause and where to crescendo into a dramatic, flourishing finale.

Now, when the whole orchestra came together to practice, some were placed among them who had not been chosen. Extra musicians snuck in, holding the same types of instruments, wearing the same dress, even possessing the correct musical score. Yet when they played, the principal violinist knew there was something wrong.

She came to the conductor and said, ‘Didn’t you handpick these musicians? Weren’t they all chosen and mentored by you? Why then are there notes of discord among us? Why do some not know the music, though they have the score before them?’

The conductor replied, ‘An enemy did this, seeking to discredit our orchestra.’

‘Then let me listen carefully,’ the principal said. ‘I shall go around observing each player, rooting out those who shouldn’t be here and showing them the door.’

‘No,’ the conductor replied. ‘For if you start pulling people out now, one by one, my musicians shall be distracted, looking to their right and left, wondering what is happening and if they might be next. Their focus shall waver from me, their conductor. And if their eyes are not fixed on me, they shall forget what I’ve taught – forget to feel the music and to place each nuance where it is meant to be. If that happens, the whole project stands at risk, as the discord of the few spreads to the many.

‘Rather, wait. Let everyone play together through the rehearsal. Then, before the final concert, I shall request all the imposters leave at once. For I know whom I have chosen. Then we can perform as one, united in the rise and fall, each playing their part as I have instructed, the whole coming together in one beautiful symphony under my direction.’

 

Natasha Woodcraft lives in Cambridgeshire with her husband, 4 sons, a spotty dog, an evil bunny and some much maligned fish. She believes stories have power to communicate deep truth and transform lives. Her published novels, The Wanderer Scorned & The Wanderer Reborn, explore God’s redemptive purposes for messy people by reimagining the tale of Cain & Abel. Also a songwriter, Natasha peppers her emotional prose with poetry and song.