The Parable Of The Statue

Bob Young
3 min readFeb 12, 2021

The block of marble was so frightened.

It all started with the sound of shovels. Then, it was exposed to — sunlight! So bright! Next came the saws, and hammers and chisels.

Photo by Peter Ivey-Hansen on Unsplash

No! The pain! The marble was fractured and cut and splintered. The block was separated from itself — lifted out with ropes — taken from the heart of the earth.

A wagon ride. A city. A building. A large room.

This man was in charge. They called him Master, and a Sculptor, and an Artist.

He set up mirrors all around the block of marble. The marble could see itself in the mirrors in every direction. The chisel marks — and the marks of the saw! It knew that it had become ugly. It was separated from everything it had ever known, separated from itself, marred forever. There was no hope. No possibility that it could ever return to its home in the heart of the earth.

The Sculptor wasn’t hateful. In fact, he caressed the marble with one hand as he walked around it, looking at every inch. He was smiling, and humming a joyous tune. The marble knew it was ugly, and yet the marble saw the Sculptor enjoying it, looking at it with admiring eyes.

But there was more pain! The chisel! Here it comes!

Sometimes, at first, there was the saw, cutting away large chunks. Each slide of the blade brought agony, and each time a spray of the marble — a spray of itself — turned to dust.

But the chisel — how many blows? How many chips? How many times was the marble struck? And each blow brought fear, and pain, and… the marble’s sense of hopelessness deepened. It looked in the mirrors, and saw itself disappearing, ever smaller.

Finally, the chiseling was replaced with sanding. The scraping, the abrasion, the sound of itself being eroded away. Why? Why, Sculptor? What are you doing? Why am I going through this?

The Sculptor stepped back. He nodded and smiled. He put down the sandpaper and picked up the polishing cloth. He came close, but not with blows. Not with scrapes. He came close, and brought smoothness and a shine to this block of marble.

Once again the Sculptor caressed the marble with one hand as he walked around it, looking at every inch. He was smiling…

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Bob Young

CISO, Director of Information Security, and Security Consultant. Also, I wrote some books that have nothing to do with IT. http://www.amazon.com/author/bobyoung