The Great King and the Blessed Nation (An Allegory)

There was once a great king. His glory and renown filled the earth. His power was unrivaled, yet his mercy was without limit. The great king loved justice, and he defended the downtrodden. He deeply loved all those in his kingdom, but especially the fatherless and the destitute.

One day a weary traveler, who had journeyed a great distance, arrived at the royal city of the great king. With no strength left after his arduous journey, the traveler collapsed on the steps of the great king’s throne.

“O great king,” cried the traveler through his tears, “come to our aid!” 

Moved by the traveler’s frail appearance, and the urgency of his plea, the great king stepped down from his throne. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the weary traveler to steady him. At once the entire royal court stood in complete silence. All eyes were fixed on the scene now unfolding before the great king’s throne.

“Take courage, weary traveler,” the great king spoke gently. “You are safe here in my royal city. All who travel here from any nation will truly find rest.”

The great king lifted the traveler to a seat near his glorious throne. Overcome with emotion at the great king’s kindness, and finally able to rest, the traveler began to weep. He wept for some time. He wept so profusely that he could no longer speak. The royal court watched silently as the traveler’s trembling hand took a scroll from his weathered satchel. The great king, continuing to steady the traveler with his hand, motioned to one of his attendants nearby. The attendant took the scroll from the traveler and began reading it for the royal court to hear.

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she with silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

The great king gazed affectionately into the distance as he pondered the opening words of the scroll. “Yes, I remember this engraving. It is etched on the foundation of the blessed nation.” The great king turned to the attendant who held the parchment. “What news does the scroll contain from the nation that I have blessed above all others?” 

Reading silently for a moment, the attendant became visibly distressed. “O great king, the blessed nation that you gave as a light for the oppressed of the earth is now divided.”

“Divided?” The great king echoed. “How? I have given this people my favor and blessing above any nation on earth. What could possibly divide them?”

“Great king,” the weary traveler was finally able to lift his head to speak, “Our nation no longer rejoices in welcoming the poor huddled masses. A good number of our citizens have forgotten you. They do not honor your kingdom or fight for the cause of the oppressed. Most of our leaders are divided, and wrestle with one another for power and prominence.”

After contemplating the words of the messenger for what seemed like an eternity, the great king turned to the attendant. His reply was firm, yet filled with concern, “Strengthen this traveler with food from my own table. Clothe him in my royal garments, so that my authority is recognized. When his strength returns, escort him back to the blessed nation. Let him plead with the nation I have blessed above all others. Let the blessed nation again be called commit to the purpose for which I planted it.”

“O great king,” the royal attendant replied with a trembling voice, “There is yet more to read.”

“More?” The great king asked. 

“Yes, your majesty.” The attendant said with a look of astonishment on his face. 

“The blessed nation is divided concerning the welfare of its unborn children. Sixty million of these children have now perished in this division.”

“Perished?” The great king pressed, quickly standing again. 

“Yes, your majesty,” the royal guard replied, still visibly shaken. “The lives of their unborn are taken while they are still in their mother’s wombs. Many claim this is their right to do.”

The great king was no longer listening. He turned to the captain of his army and spoke with great authority. “Shake this nation from its foundation. Divide the blessed nation now, for they are divided in justice. Remove the wealth of the blessed nation and cause it to become impoverished. They have trusted in their great riches and they have murdered the fatherless.”

“My king, it will be done at your word,” came the swift reply. “Shall the blessed nation be uprooted, as you have done to other nations that were before it?”

The great king paused for a long time. 

“Not yet,” he replied. The better part of the royal court now saw the tears beginning to form in the eyes of the great king. 

“Not yet,” he again spoke calmly. 

“Send out every messenger first. Invite the poor, the oppressed, and the broken of the blessed nation to come into my city for refuge. Do not uproot the blessed nation yet. I will first humble it, as I have humbled no other nation. We will wait to see if the blessed nation will then seek my help.”