The Bridge and the Builders

A story by Gita Saraydarian

Once students of the Wisdom Teachings gathered to discuss the path of discipleship and labor. They read through some wonderful and advanced texts and they discussed and discussed the deeper meanings of the Teaching. They were inspired and uplifted.

One night, the following story was read in class:

“Once in a far eastern village, the inhabitants of the village came together and planned to build a beautiful stone bridge over a river. Old and young were enthusiastically working to cut the stones and build the bridge. You could hear their songs and feel their joy while they were working. They were not there to make money for their hot dogs and beer but to create a beauty. They were not thinking to come to work exactly at eight o’clock and quit the job exactly at four, watching the movement of the hands of the clock every minute. They did not think about time. They came before sunrise and went home late, after dark.
“Once I asked, “When are you supposed to quit and go home?”
“An old man answered, “In a labor of love, time is not considered — only the progress of the labor.”
“They were working to make each stone perfect, so that the bridge was built perfectly, so that the people of the village could enjoy it, so that their children and grandchildren in their colorful dresses could run over the bridge, so that a sick man could be hurried to a hospital, so that guests could be welcomed in the village . . ..
“The greatest moment was the opening of the bridge. As the governor was cutting the ribbon and preparing to present certain gifts to the builders, the builders slowly walked under the bridge through the river and disappeared behind the bushes of the other bank.
“One must often ask himself whether he built something beautiful or destroyed something beautiful.” (Excerpted from Challenge for Discipleship by Torkom Saraydarian, p. 186.)

After the story was read, someone said: “I think the builders were really selfish. They should have stayed and honored the bridge and stayed to celebrate with the community. How could they simply disappear?”

Another said, “You make a good point there, but these people showed advanced thinking and deep humility…”

Another asked, “How could we teach our children to be so selfless? Where does this kind of selflessness come from? We are usually trained to expect instant rewards when we do something…. like trained circus animals!”

Another said, “Yes, but we need to affirm and reward and nurture our children. We cannot be harsh with them and treat them in heavy ways. They do not have the needed mechanisms to learn heavy detachment lessons when young. This is for disciples on the path not to expect rewards…Sometimes people are unnecessarily harsh with their children….”

Another said, “I would gladly take this kind of reward for anything that I did as a child and not have to deal with lifeless and heartless family relations….”

Then someone asked, “How do you usually feel when you do something great. Do you seek assurances and confirmation?”

“Well,” another said, “I usually agonize and ask myself if what I did was good or not good. I try to perfect things from my perspective.”

“But there is no perfection, even when you are dying, you may think, ‘I could have done this or that better…’”

And the discussion continued, each person looking at the story from his or her perspective and life experiences, each person expressing the internal dialogue that this little story highlighted.

Then a consideration was made, what are the various ways in which the builders and the community could have acted?

The teacher thought about it and envisioned different scenarios:

They could have had a huge party and invited CNN, and BBC News, the International Herald Tribune to come and report on the opening ceremonies. The French, the Peruvian and the Egyptian networks would all wish to send reporters and give updates on the opening of the bridge and the fantastic work that was done by a group of selfless artisans and builders. The Chinese sent a team and a team arrived from India. “We can learn from these people” they thought and reported enthusiastically. Stories of past catastrophes were recounted, such as how when the river rose and the banks washed over, no one could cross the river to bring food and supplies to the village and so on. Scores of cameramen, lights of all kinds, and reporters in makeup and wind blowing their hair and talking live in all kinds of languages reported from the bridge. They lined up around the bridge and over the sides of the bank. You could hear all the languages, “reporting live from….this is BBC News….” The builders would be called to the platform one by one. They would stand on the platform next to the Governor and be given decorated ribbons across thier broad chests. Huge bouquets of flowers wrapped in cellophane paper were handed to them by pretty little girls and boys in festive dress. Press releases were sent to all the local press. The Internet carried the story live. The pictures of the builders and their families would be in the local news that night. Everyone would stand up from the bleachers and shout their enthusiastic affections and love and appreciation for these heroes. Doves would be released; balloons would fly into the blue sky. Their names would be engraved on the bridge, to remain forever as a testimony to their selfless labor.

Or…
The builders would be called by name, one by one they would come up to the platform which was covered in expensive red carpet with flower stands on both sides. They would be given a firm handshake and people sitting in neat rows of chairs would applaud politely. There would be flowers and appreciative speeches made by the Governor, the family members, and the children of these wonderful builders. The builders would stand around in their best shirts and ties and give short speeches about how wonderful it was to work as a team and part of this wonderful community. They would recall stories about how an uncle was once sick and had to get to a doctor, but could not get there because the river was too high….

Or,
The community would gather casually and the builders would be milling about. Their names would be called by the Governor, standing on a little step made of bricks, and everyone would applaud the builders. Then people would walk around and look at the bridge, admiring its many fine qualities and its sturdiness, and then go home. The builders would have quiet dinners at home and grill burgers and hot dogs and drink coke and beer and talk about how they built the bridge and what happened the time the stone would not fit, how their arms ached…the time the pipes broke….the time the river rose and they had to stop for a while…the children and ladies were long asleep…they talked late into the night and early morning, and struggled to their homes in the early hours of the dawn, heavy hearted that now what were they to do and to talk about? An emptiness felt in their hearts, a weariness that could not be explained…

Or,
The community gathered on the bridge, someone stood up and said, “Thanks everyone, job well done. We love you and appreciate you.” Everyone applauded, they gave a few yells and hurrahs and then everyone walked and picnicked in the nearby park, slapping each other on the back and congratulating each other, feeling happy and secure that they have a wonderful bridge to use and connect to the world. Everyone felt as one with each other. They ate, played games, children and dogs ran around, and everyone went home.

Or,
The builders walked away quietly. No one saw them. As each walked deep in thought, crossing under the bridge, over the river, walking carefully over the rocks in the water, thinking intently and thanking God that they were able to serve. The Governor and the priests and Imams gathered and thanked God for a beautiful bridge; they could feel safe now; God helped them become safe and connected to each other and to the rest of the world. Incense was burned, holy water was sprinkled, prayers were recited.

Or,
The builders never went to the bridge after it was completed. The community gathered and said prayers and sang songs in celebration. The builders heard the songs and prayers and applause from faraway. They started to walk early the very next day. They served God; they did their duty; the bridge was a symbol of who they were. Everything that they did was devoted to God. They thanked God for the opportunity to serve. They went to the next labor, a path to be hewn in solid rock up the mountain, in the next village. They did not talk; their eyes were intently watching their path, in deep meditation they walked…

Or,
The builders never knew what happened after they did their work. They went home and slept. They awoke early the next day, and listened to the call for labor…their hearts full of expectation, listening intently for the call.

We each narrate life according to what we know and experience and see. The story is the same, or is it? It all depends on you.

Gita

About the author: G. Saraydarian is the Founder and President of TSG Foundation, an organization dedicated to the Ageless Wisdom Teachings. See Calendar for a list of lectures and events.For a complete list of past blogs and other writings, click here.