The Providence

The conversation began after the meal, when the bread had been taken away but no one had yet risen from the table.

The men there had done well.

One dealt in oil. Another held land beyond the lower road. A third had begun with almost nothing and now gave work to men who once would not have noticed him in the market.

They had been speaking about prices, the next harvest, and a man who had lost more than he could repay when the ruler asked a question that seemed to belong to none of it.

“What would happen,” he said, “if there were no money?”

One of the men laughed.

“No money?”

“No coin. No buying. No selling.”

The man waited for the joke to continue.

The ruler said, “Suppose one man had bread and his neighbor had none, so he divided what he had. A roof needed mending, and those who knew the work came. One field produced more than another, and the grain went where grain was needed. No man asked what he would receive before deciding whether another man should eat.”

The laughter left the table.

The landholder leaned back.

“It would last until the first harvest.”

“Why only until then?”

“Because half the men would discover that the other half were willing to work for them.”

A few men smiled.

The merchant nodded. “If the man who rises before daylight receives the same as the man who sleeps until the heat comes, how long before both men sleep?”

“Perhaps the first man works because the field needs him.”

“For a morning,” the merchant said. “Perhaps two.”

Another man shook his head.

“You are imagining men as they are not. Want is not always an evil thing. A man sees his neighbor mend a roof before the rains, so he works to mend his own. He sees another man’s children eating well, so he learns a trade. He wants more for his household, and wanting more makes him rise.”

The ruler listened.

The landholder pointed toward him.

“You should know this better than any of us. You did not come to this table because someone gave you what you have.”

The ruler looked at him.

“No?”

“You worked. You saved. You risked what other men kept. When something failed, you began again. That is why men trust you now.”

The merchant lifted his cup.

“And because you did not spend everything the moment you earned it.”

That brought a little laughter.

Another man said, “There is nothing cruel in saying a man should receive the fruit of his labor.”

“No,” the ruler said.

“And there is nothing wrong with wanting one’s children to have more than their parents had.”

“No.”

“Then what are we arguing about?”

The ruler looked around the table.

These were not cruel men.

They paid workers. They cared for their households. They gave when need came before them. They had risen while others slept and remained at their work when easier choices existed.

Much of what they had said was true.

Perhaps that was why the sadness came.

One of the men noticed his silence.

“What?”

The ruler looked down at the place where the bread had been.

Then he raised his eyes.

“Tell me something.”

They waited.

“If a world without buying and selling would fail because no man would work unless he could have more than another man…”

He stopped.

No one interrupted him.

“Then what do you think heaven is like?”