Twenty Interpreters

Twenty interpreters were brought before the prophet. The prophet did not belong in the court, but the king was contrary - he had plucked him out of the wilderness. Maybe the two could learn from one another. The prophet enjoyed the king's patronage; the king enjoyed the prophet's reputation. But it was not entirely for formality's sake that he summoned the twenty interpreters - the wisest men of his kingdom - as the prophet had requested. He, too, wanted to know the truth of the prophet. He wanted to know what the prophet's story really meant.

"I will tell the story again," the prophet said to the king. "Then let them challenge me. You must warn them that if they are wrong they shall suffer the consequences. But I will do nothing to conceal the truth, and I am not a wise man. Therefore a wise man should see the truth as clearly as I do."

To this the king readily agreed. Why surround yourself with a court of wise men who are only pretenders to the name? And even if the prophet showed some guile, surely twenty wise men could rustle the truth out of him? He himself looked forward to seeing which of them deserved the title he had received, which of them, in common matters, could lay a genuine claim to his reputation.

Now they are all summoned to the state room. The twenty interpreters sit down, some nervous, some with equanimity. Alike, they wait in silence for the prophet to speak. As he does so, some take notes, some look at the ground; some look at his face, as if they could read the answer there.

Finally the interpreters separate and think long and hard. They know the importance of their endeavour. Their king is a precipitate king, unforgiving, cantankerous. More is at stake than just the words they say. At last, they settle their stories; they are summoned a second time to the state room. In turn, each offers his explanation of the prophet's story. Certainly their originality knows no bounds, nor their scholarship. They pin down every last nuance; they trace out every last theme.

"I was wrong," the prophet concludes, when, many hours later, the last of them has fallen silent. “Nothing can be hidden by words, when those words are only made out of more words, and the places from which those words have come."

Out of respect for them, he lowers his voice, and beckons the king aside.

"Take these fools away and put them to death," he says. "All they see is different forms of truth. Bring me someone who can see the lies."