“If those on the outside wish to experience the light, they must come and join us inside our cave,” proclaimed Herman, and there in the darkness of the cave, the cavemen nodded as they chewed the fat…literally…gnawing on random pieces of bones they had managed to scrounge up on their rare excursions outside of their home.
“By looking down on those beneath us, we shall encourage them to raise their standard of behavior,” bellowed Herman, and the cavemen began clamoring and climbing like monkeys. Everyone wanted to gain the highest position inside the cave and would do what it took to get it.
The cave was an exclusive club but cavemen loved their clubs.
A strange fact of history is that going clubbing in those days had an entirely different meaning than it does today. However, anyway you look at it, a club is handy tool to beat other people down with and the residents of the cave knew it. With that in mind, the cavemen began hurling themselves wholeheartedly into the work of beating, battering and bashing. According to the accounts that survive of this day, this melee was an inspiration to all who witnessed it.
Through chaos, order was established. Through violence, peace was brought to the cave. As a grim haze of dust began to settle the mob of cavemen seated themselves and returned their attention to their master as he labored to train them in the ways of civilization.
“Some may remember that great prophet told us to go, but if one takes the words the prophet said and runs them through the filter of we want to hear, we suddenly realize that prophet actually meant that we should stay! Yes, we must stay here with all the cliques and comfort of our comfort zone and make it feel like home,” Herman’s bold voice trailed off into an discouraged mutter as he surveyed the squalor of the cave before him.
“Speaking of which, we have a fellowship lunch planned for tomorrow. Feel free to invite your friends from outside the cave to join us.”
The mob enjoyed deluding themselves with the idea that they might actually be able to have friends on the outside. Since Herman was a wise teacher he told his students what they wanted to hear.
However, on those rare moments when he was honest with himself, Herman was ashamed for telling the people inside this cave of tradition what they wanted to hear. The truth is, even though he said these things, deep down he knew that the only way to see the light was to seek out the sun. The tradition of rubbing sticks together was celebrated by these cavemen but it held little appeal to those who had experienced the power of the sun for themselves.
Still, this tribe of cavemen wanted the light to come through their own efforts and that was that. They would continue with their old ways even though it cost them a relationship with those outside the cave.
Herman coughed, catching the attention of his congregation. “That concludes our service for today, remember to service your televisions before the Flinstones episode tonight.” On that note everyone broke off into groups and began grumbling about the mumbling the other groups were doing.
Herman gathered his stone tablets and prepared to head off to the back of the cave. The back of the cave was the farthest from the sun, so it was a coveted spot in this tribe. He had been awarded this position though a popular vote. However, he wished he was brave enough to follow the radical teachings of the prophet, the sole heir to a prosperous law firm there in the city outside.
The prophet was different. He was a young man of surprising humility who had left his mansion of splendor, just to live with these cavemen in their squalor. The prophet had proclaimed the way of the sun, a way that lead away from this darkness. A way that lead away from the damp cave beneath the bridge on 72nd avenue, New York City. However, some of the more powerful cavemen had a vested interest in keeping the others in the dark and so had conspired to run the prophet off. Still, even though the prophet had returned to his rightful home in the city, the memories of his radical teachings remained.
Refuting the wise teachings of the prophet was a constant battle for Herman. There were many days when he wondered if it was worth the effort. Then, the satisfaction of having control over something, even a small group such as this, took over and he was encouraged in his efforts.
Herman paused for a moment and eyed the light spilling into the cave. He set his stone tablets on the dirt floor beneath him. For a moment he felt like running toward the light and all that it represented. It was so tempting, but he was afraid of the unknown, so he decided to stay safe in his comfort zone. With that, he settled down for a round of rubbing sticks together. Content to remain in the wretched cave where he had always lived.