The Boy Who Thought He Was Unique

Jared Leys

Josiah was a little boy.  He behaved well most of the time and made his parents happy.  He did well in school and all of his teachers liked him.  Life was good for Josiah, and he loved to learn.

His favorite lessons in school were when the teachers taught about how everybody is unique.  To Josiah, it made perfect sense.  If nobody looked like or did exactly the same thing as everybody else, then everybody else must be different.  Special.  Unique.

Josiah learned many important lessons from these teachings; self-reliance and self-esteem were definitely virtues, and essential to the health of the soul.  In time, Josiah even learned about individuality and independence.

Life was good for Josiah.  He was proud to imagine the forever upward incline of his life.  Surely, things would only get better, just as long as he trusted in himself.

But one day as he was walking home from school, a kind, tired-looking old man stepped out in front of him.  He said, “Hello, Josiah.”

“Hello,” said Josiah.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Satire.  I want to talk to you Josiah.”

“Why?” asked Josiah.

“Josiah, I have heard that you think you are unique.”  Josiah nodded and smiled; this was his favorite subject.  Satire said, “I want to tell you that you are not unique.  Everybody is the same, Josiah.”

“No, that’s not true,” said Josiah, frowning.  “No one is the same at all.  I’m special, you are special, and we all do our own thing.”

“It is true that we all do our own thing, Josiah.  It is sad, but that does not mean you are unique.”  Satire took an apple from a nearby tree and gave it to Josiah.  “You want to be an individual, but you are divided.”

“What do you mean?” asked Josiah.

“You want to be unique, because you like doing things for yourself, Josiah.  Everybody does.  Therefore, you are just like everybody else.”  Satire smiled.

Josiah took a bite of the apple and thought to himself.  If by being unique it meant that he was just like everybody else, then was there any way to be special?  Josiah realized that the only way to be different would be to admit that he was not unique.  He didn’t like it, but there didn’t seem to be any way around it.

Josiah asked, “If I admit that I am just like everybody else, would that make me unique?”

“No,” said Satire, “it means that you are just like everybody else.  To give up your uniqueness means to give up your individuality.”

“Why would I do that?” asked Josiah.  “I want to be able to decide what I want to do.  Don’t I know what is best for me?”

“No, you don’t,” answered Satire.  “What do you think your parents are for?”

“But when I grow up, my parents will not be with me all the time.  I need to learn how to do things for myself.”

“I suppose so,” said Satire, as he plucked an apple from the tree and took a bite.  “But it all depends, Josiah, on who your master is.  What do you do everything for?”

“For myself, of course,” said Josiah.  “If I just make things good for myself, then things can only get better.  I don’t need another master.”

“Everyone has a master, Josiah, and it is never you.”

“Why not?” asked Josiah.

“If you make everything good for yourself, then you serve all the people who tell you what is good.”

“But isn’t making lots of money and having a nice house and a working a decent job good?”

“I guess they are,” said Satire, going to take another bite from the apple, but deciding against it.

“So if those things are good, and I do them for myself, then how do I have another master?”  Josiah stared at Satire as if he wanted to cry.

“You do those things for the people who tell you they are good, Josiah.  And you do them for the money, for the house, for the job.  No matter how much you want to do everything for yourself, you cannot be selfish enough.  If you do it for yourself, then your pride grows and grows until you are the only thing that matters.  Then what, Josiah?”

“Then I am happy,” said Josiah.

“And then you die,” said Satire.  “You need to remember your creator, Josiah.”

“My creator loves me the way I am,” replied Josiah.  “My creator loves me because I am special, because I am unique.”

“Your creator loves you because he made you, Josiah.  He loves you because he is your foundation.  He doesn’t love you because you think you are your own foundation.  You cannot build up from yourself, Josiah.  I suspect your parents knew this when you were born, but simply forgot to tell you.”

Josiah looked at Satire and asked, “If everybody is the same, then why do we all look different?”

Satire laughed and patted Josiah on the shoulder.  “It would get awfully confusing otherwise, wouldn’t it?  No, we don’t all look different, it just appears that way.”

Josiah looked straight forward as he finished eating his apple.  Satire smiled and walked away, tossing his apple so it landed under the tree.

Josiah thought as he walked home.  Life seemed better when he was sure he was unique.  Now, though, he doubted that everybody was unique, if everybody thought they were.  It was a sinking feeling when Josiah realized that he might not be the one who was perfect in his own way.

Anyway, Josiah grew up to be a good man.  He lived faithfully, had a nice family, and destroyed some nagging notions of right and wrong.  Some people wanted to pick up the pieces of the broken notions, but Josiah made them burn the notions instead.  No use keeping the pieces around to build a new foundation when the foundation was already built.

The End