The Beast on a Cross: A Parable
Neither the stray dogs of the village nor the carcasses of ferocious wolves had such chilling claws. Never had he seen their like. They were fearsome things – each one as long as a man’s hand, tapered down to a razor-fine point, and black as coal.
The gruesome claws grew out of each of the monster’s wings. The black, leathery membranes were large enough, when extended, to create a shade over any house in the hamlet. Shivers ran down the peasant’s spine as he beheld the dragon. At least, he knew, his deadly foe was incapacitated. There it writhed, nailed to the wooden frame like a proclamation on the castle gate.
Eyes shifting over the massive form, he beheld its tough scaly plates, writhing muscles, twisting abdomen, and the countless spines and spikes that grew out of its back and tail.
A single glance at the head was enough to make the ignorant farmer shudder. It was unnatural, like a piece of deformed iron smelt in the bellows of hell. Rows of teeth projected out of its mouth at every angle. Spines stood erect. The eyes were black and glowed with a demonic bluish fury. It reminded the peasant of the flames he had seen when the cottages went ablaze.
He had experienced that many times. Every peasant and merchant in the kingdom knew that the dragon-horde delighted in savagery, swooping down from the black of midnight onto peaceful villages. Tearing the silence with their hideous shrieks, the dragons would ignite the cottages into infernos.
The unsuspecting travelers who ventured into their woodland haunts met similar fates. The creatures would suddenly fall on the innocents, tearing them with their claws and devouring the bloody remains. More than one of the peasant’s own kith and kin had suffered such a demise.
It was these beasts that made life miserable. Many peaceful evenings and tranquil mornings had been startled by the distant roar of dragons. Sometimes the townsmen equipped themselves with homemade bows and arrows, clubs and pitchforks, and marched out in manly bravado. The uneven ranks were always bolstered by the hope of victory until, shattered by blows, shrieks, fire, and rampage, they retreated in diminished shambles.
They were brutal, but they were also cunning. The coal-black scales of the dragons were almost invisible as they soared through the midnight sky. In broad daylight they were so smooth as to shimmer like an angel. To villagers below, the wheeling monsters presented a mesmerizing sight, as if phantoms of light, until they descended downward on the screaming victims.
It was well known that every citizen of the Kingdom was granted the right of petition. As a citizen, he had permission to enter the royal palace itself and entreat the sovereign to hear any request. The sovereign himself, styled “The Prince of Peace” lavished his protection on the citizens. He was truly a ruler of the people, one of them himself, who cared so deeply about the citizens of his kingdom, that he rarely denied any reasonable request. With high hopes for success, the villagers determined to petition their Prince for royal protection.
To the sound of trumpet fanfares, the massive grate of the castle ascended, and the wooden doors swung wide. It was a marvelous sight for simple yeomen: the golden-threaded tapestries, the white-clad royal servants, and the lion-insignias which showed the power of the king.
Assembled in a throng, they begged their Prince to rescue them. It would require war, for the dragons lived in the adjacent territory, obedient to the black knight Beelzebub. This sinister figure had given each monster a name: ‘pride,’ ‘greed,’ ‘lust,’ ‘envy,’ and such. To him they were obedient, and he frequently directed their slaughters.
The very hour of the petition saw a guard of royal cavalry parading over the castle drawbridge. Dressed in shining armor, the horsemen made off at a quick trot toward the murky forest-land that separated the kingdoms. For hours nothing was seen. Only the distant din of clashing metal and horrific shrieks indicated that a great battle was being fought in the woodlands.
The cavalry streamed out of the forest late that evening. Blood dripped from their faces. Mud scoured their shields. Exhaustion creased their foreheads. But with them came a prize: a dragon, shackled and bound, led by a chain through the nose.
By order of the Prince, the beast was crucified. A great wooden cross – three times the height of any man – was erected on the side of the highway. Great stakes from the royal smithy pinned the monster to the scaffold, and now, there it hung – writhing, groaning, snorting, and roaring, powerful and deadly, but powerless against the peasant.
He stared up at it again, marveling at the smoke that rose in spirals from its nostrils. Slather dripped from the razor-sharp teeth. It was ferocious and deadly, but it was powerless to harm him.
A single glint attracted his attention. He had not noticed it before. Gripped within the monster’s claws was a lump of gold, sparkling on every surface from refracted sun. It was transfixing, beautiful, and mesmerizing.
He realized, in a moment, that it was offered to him. The claws that gripped it were nudging outward, in his direction. Though pinned to the wood, the beast was heaving and straining to give him the gold. It was an offer that he had never imagined.
The beast on a cross was offering him gold if he would take him off that cross. The metallic gift shimmered radiantly. It was his for the taking. It was a bargain that he could complete in a moment. A few blows with the sledgehammer that lay nearby would break the wood, loosen the stakes, and in a moment, the gold would be his. No one need ever know who was responsible for the dragon’s escape. Everything else forgotten, the peasant dreamed of the untold wealth that was offered to him.
Eyes glued to the shining rock, he slowly bent down and reached toward the sledgehammer.
“We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin.”
(Romans 6:6)
“And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”
(Galatians 5:24)
“So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions.”
(Romans 6:11-12)
