There was once a band of artisans, craftsmen, and
philosophers who lived together in peace and joy with their King. One day their King told them about the many
principalities where greed and selfishness ruled in the hearts of men. The good citizens were aghast at the thought
of such depravity.
The King explained that, while the many peoples had once
been a part of a single kingdom, most had completely forgotten their origins,
or the memory had become so distant and remote that it was considered no more
than a myth. As they sat at the King’s
feet, he told them that he was going to reconcile the principalities and that
they were to be his emissaries.
As the King prepared to send his subjects to the distant
lands, he gave them a new name. He said,
“You are to go to the principalities of the world and give your knowledge, your
skill, your love, and even your life to the people. While you are to serve everywhere and live
together with the people of every land, you are citizens of this Kingdom and
will never call any other place home.
For that reason you will be called Nomad, a traveler far from home, with
goodwill toward all and malice toward none.”
And the Nomads began their journey.
After many days, they began to see an endless line of people
leaving a city. The fleeing people were
poor, dirty, and increasingly afraid.
One group stopped the Nomads and told them to turn and flee, that the
city was filled with death. The Nomads
continued, undaunted.
On their first view of the city wall, some began to
falter. The city was big, ominous, and
intimidating. The walls they saw before
them were dark and dirty, crudely built by clumsy hands, nothing like the
shining and beautiful city of their King.
When they entered the city, death was everywhere. A plague had struck the city, and bodies were
piled in the streets. The citizens
didn’t understand how the plague started, how it spread, or how to stop
it. They had become so scared that
parents would abandon their own children at the first symptom of the
plague. Those who were able left the
city, while the rest suffered.
Remembering the words of their King, the Nomads
entered. They cared for the sick, buried
the dead, and loved the city in the name of their King. Soon enough, the plague began to abate, and
the prince of the city lauded the Nomads, their selfless sacrifice, and all
they had done in service to his people.
The Nomads explained their purpose, and many in the city began to follow
the Nomad way.
As the Nomads continued to spread, they never found a city
with the beauty, culture, or intellect of their home. Many cities welcomed them, many rejected
them. Some gave them responsibility, and
others made them slaves. While the
Nomads served everywhere they went, they always longed for their home and an
escape from the crassness of the people they encountered.
After many years, they found a city that offered incredible
freedom and autonomy. They were welcomed
as advisors but soon became leaders.
They began to rebuild the city according to the fading memory of their
true Kingdom. The bricks they cut for
the city walls were finer than any they’d encountered since leaving the
presence of the King. The walls were so
purely refined that the city itself began to look like a golden crown on the
top of a mountain.
Soon there were few in the city that didn’t call themselves
Nomads. Many Nomads who had dispersed to
the corners of the Earth began to reassemble in this city. While the Nomads always welcomed people into
their city, those that did not adopt the Nomad way, or found themselves unable
to rise to the level of the Nomad craftsmen, or speak the peculiar jargon of
the Nomad philosophers, quietly fell out of grace, felt out of place, and left
the city.
Villages of tents sprang up around the city filled with
those that were not capable of living the Nomadic way. The Nomads would lower the bridge from their
gleaming walls and send ministers to the villages daily. They committed resources and continued to invite
all those capable of upholding the Nomad way to live in the city.
Their city became their refuge and their protection. Inside the walls, their children were safe
from the influences of the tent people.
The creations of their hands were not corrupted by the untrained and
untalented, and they were able to keep the ways of the Nomad pure and undefiled
by those outside their walls.
One day as they lowered the gate, they saw a great
procession on the horizon. So vast was
the approaching army that their dust obscured the sun. At long last when they saw the true King
approaching their walls, their gates were thrown open, and soldiers were sent
out to clear the tents from the path of the King.
The King entered the city to the shouts of the citizens, but
they slowly began to realize that there was no celebration. They looked up to see a silently weeping King
standing in their midst. The Prince of
the city asked the King why he was crying, and he said, “I’m searching for my
people!” The prince, terrified at his
words, fell at his feet and said, “Oh King! It’s us, the Nomads you sent
away. We’ve kept pure your truths and
protected your ways in the midst of ignorant and barbaric people.”
The King turned and said, “I sent a people to bring the good
news of reconciliation to the poor and sick, the clumsy and the ignorant, the
frightened and the homeless. To give
their lives in service and love.”
“My people are there,” he said as he pointed to the tent
villages surrounding the city. The King
turned, left the city of the Nomads, and gathered a new people from the tents
and villages. His army swelled as he
left the plains of the great Nomad city, never to return again.
John Monday
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