An Uncomplicated Analogy

I am invited to visit this house. The owner is away, but the caretaker is very hospitable. It’s on a big lot with a few other similar houses around it, but it is indeed the most grandiose and decorated.

It’s pouring outside. I get in quickly. As I am about to fold my umbrella, I find, to my great surprise, that it’s also raining hard inside. The caretaker, wearing a raincoat, welcomes me and leads me towards the main hall. Still holding my umbrella, I want to ask but feel shy. I am sure an explanation will be volunteered, but the caretaker is busy pointing out different rooms in the house, showing no sign of offering any explanation.

As I follow him, I tilt the umbrella and look up. I notice that the entire roof is leaking. The damage is so extensive that wind gushes in, rain pours down, and it feels just like standing outside. Walking ahead of me, the affable caretaker still talks about the history and stories of the house, totally oblivious of buckets of water hitting on his body.

The layout is nice, albeit a little dated. Soon we reach the great hall. There is a tent set up in the middle. I can see a bonfire inside and shadows of other guests. The caretaker lifts the front door for me.

I lower myself, get in, and sit among the guests. It’s considerably warmer inside. I am greeted with warmth and enthusiasm. I can’t help but notice the loud pounding rain on the paper-thin polyester and the howling storm outside. Yet the guests are chitchatting happily unmindful of the noise.

The caretaker enters bringing wine and bread which we start to share. Taking my share from him, I whisper a question to him: “Why don’t you fix the roof?” Handing over the a piece of bread, he answers calmly: “What roof? The house is fine.”