In the village of Erudition, a fair-sized established community, Amon and Chakam planned their new dwellings. The two brothers weighed options, each remembering their last day with their father. He evenly divided the land as he lay passing from old age, and both brothers sought to honor him and his teachings throughout their youth. He was an elder who taught at the synagogue, sharing all he knew of the sacred scroll, which promised abundance and well-being to those who lived by faith and trust. Amon, slightly older, took care to observe the teachings, applying them to all he did. Chakam began questioning things, not as convinced that the scroll was so literal.
Amon was under the big oak tree like many of his mornings, giving thanks to the Creator for all he had. The sacred scroll had prepared his way, knowing faith would sustain him, and trust would carry him through the unknown. “The faithless struggle in vain, choosing trust in their own ability and not in God’s.” He thought to himself. In the spring, Amon found the perfect spot near the river to begin construction. The waters flowed at their yearly peak, and the softer ground made for easy pier placement. The modest hut of reeds and clay came together quickly while Amon prayed for protection throughout the entire build. In the distance, Amon sees Chakam working tirelessly to accomplish his vision. Amon has a seed of doubt attempting to take root, but quickly dismisses it with a quote from the sacred scroll concerning vain effort.
Chakam broke for the day along with the setting sun and dimming valley, staring up and down his half-finished construction. He stretches out his aching back, admiring the solid foundation with quiet pride. Massive oak piers anchored the corners; large stone basin walls were between them; a stone walkway and stairs led up to the log flooring-all earned by his own sweat and foresight. He gives one last glance in his brother’s direction with a look of disapproval. The modest reed hut built quickly near the river gets a sigh from Chakam, but his gaze is quickly back to his dwelling with a smile. An exhausted Chakam turns in, neglecting his usual prayer and meditation routine. Instead, his mind is full, trusting tomorrow to his own hands. “What will I get accomplished next?” he murmurs, drifting off to sleep.
Amon did well in his simple shelter, growing his necessities and not much more. He remained humble, giving thanks for what he had. When crops failed, he fasted, spending extra time in prayer. He declared to himself, “I won’t be detoured.” He promises provision, and I believe he will again.” His unwavering faith was influential among many neighbors, strengthening his resolve.
Chakam also grew crops, but in abundance, storing what he could. He believed in charity, giving of his surplus to those in need. In debates with cynics, Chakam explained, “The Divine provides seed, yet we tend it.” Chakam paraphrased from the sacred scroll, “From the sweat of his brow, he shall eat.” Chakam returned home that evening with one villager’s words still swirling in his head; he tried to dismiss it. He notices a loose stone hanging from the steps, and kicking it back in causes another to fall, landing on his foot. He curses it, “Even my careful planning has failed me,” rolling it off and limping through a bruise. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.” Chakam snarled in frustration. The following day, he struggled to get around, adding doubt to his engineering ability.
A steady rain came over the valley, threatening crops as the ground became saturated. It was more than usual, causing the river to swell right up to Amon’s hut. His piers were slightly under water, and he watched with concern. Gathering faith, Amon rebuked the waters, now feeling secure seeing the waters sustain. Waters lapped at his piers, yet the steady rain no longer seemed threatening, and Amon returned to his mat in peace. Chakam kept watch, suspecting something worse. He especially looked out through the darkness towards Amon’s simple hut, catching a brief glimpse as lightning lit up the valley. The winds picked up beyond anyone’s expectations, causing compromise to Amon’s reed roof. Chakam witnessed from a distance, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Faith without foresight.” His sound structure comforted him as he watched on in vindication. The next flash revealed a sudden downpour followed by a wall of water surging down the riverbed. Amon’s hut lifted; splintered; now swept away. “My brother!” Chakam cried; hands clasped; voice breaking through the storm, as he looked towards heaven.
The first light brought an eerie stillness and the truth of devastation. Debris was scattered like bones. Flattened trees lay like fallen giants, and across the flood plains nothing remained where Amon’s hut once stood. Chakam sat on his porch motionless; hopeless; head in hands, witnessing the river’s fresh course; the overall conversion of his landscape. Watching his brother’s house swept away replays over and over through Chakam’s anguish. “I could have convinced him to build better and locate safer. I should have helped him with the construction.” Even though Chakam came out unscathed, his heart sank beneath what a stone wall could bear. He still felt crushed by the event. “All the planning and hard work do nothing to shield the heart,” he thought. Chakam was at a complete loss, vindicated, yet lost without Amon.
Chakam sat quietly listening to distant cries as the villagers counted their loss. One voice, distinguished from the others, caught his attention, causing Chakam to turn and look. It was Amon, torn and limping, coming in his direction. Chakam leaped from his porch, re-energized at the sight of his brother. He ran to greet him; bare feet in the cold mud, and helped him make way inside the strong dwelling. “My life has been spared by grace, but all I have is lost.” Amon wept, voice breaking, “My foolishness has ruined me.” Chakam, just the opposite, with tears of joy, explains, “Your faith has delivered your life Amon. My meager faith and fervent prayer has brought you home. Stay here until you heal. Eat with me and soon we will rebuild together.” Both were humbled by the storm, each with half the truth, but together making it whole.
Chakam sat quietly listening to distant cries as the villagers counted their loss. One voice, distinguished from the others, caught his attention, causing Chakam to turn and look. It was Amon, torn and limping, coming in his direction. Chakam leaped from his porch, re-energized at the sight of his brother. He ran to greet him, bare feet in the cold mud, and helped him make way inside the strong dwelling. “I survived by grace, but I lost everything.” My meager faith and fervent prayer has brought you home. Stay here until you heal. Eat with me, and soon we will rebuild together.” Both were humbled by the storm, each with half the truth, but together making it whole.