The Lady and the tiger

A princess of Rome and a household slave fall in love. Such liaisons are always fraught with danger, sometimes for both; always for the slave. They are, of course, outed, and the slave is condemned to be thrown to the tiger--sport for the masses. The princess, however, in her love for the condemned man, intercedes with her father, the emperor. His concession is that, instead of one door, there will be two. The slave will have a choice in his own fate. Behind door number one is a man-eating tiger. Behind door number two is a beautiful woman. Choosing the correct door, he will be rewarded with a life of freedom with the woman. Choosing the wrong door, he will be instantly attacked and devoured. She sends a message to her erstwhile lover, telling him to watch for her signal when he is brought into the arena.

The crowd leans forward, silent, anticipating the drama of this new wrinkle in Rome's bloody sport. The slave salutes the emperor as is required, but has eyes only for the princess. She inclines her pillow toward one door. Without hesitation, the slave turns and strides to the door and opens it. The story ends. I first read this 1834 classic short story by Frank Stockton1 when I should have been doing homework during a study hall my freshman year in high school. I would probably not remember it over fifty years later if he had finished it with either the lady or the tiger. The plot would have been resolved and love or jealousy would have been revealed.

But, unfinished, the ending is not satisfying; a symphony that ends on the wrong note, an unresolved chord. Which door did she choose for her lover? The author forces the reader to confront himself in his answer to the question.

the star-crossed lovers have two choices--love and trust or jealousy and distrust. The princess, loving him so very much, may point to the door behind which waits the beautiful slave woman. Jealous of her, she may direct him to the tiger. He, trusting her love, may follow her direction. Mistrusting her, he may choose the opposite door.

I, the reader, must read an ending into the story. How much would I trust? How jealous would I be?

This is not the first truncated story to be told. Jesus, Himself, told an unfinished story. We call it The Story of the Prodigal Son." It should be titled, "The Story of the Prodigal Sons." Both sons were ignorant of the father; neither son felt he had their best interests at heart. Both felt cheated and wanted something other than what they had. One left; one stayed. The younger son was more honest. We laud the return of the younger son and the father's rejoicing love over the returning prodigal. Rarely do we comment on the older son. It puzzles us. He has faithfully worked for his father, but as a slave, not as a son. Uncertain of his welcome, the younger son thinks he will have to be a slave. Chafing under his father's mere presence, the older brother is a slave. When asked why he is not rejoicing on the return of his brother, the older son merely gripes about the poor wages and the lack of a party for him. He cannot rejoice over his brother's return, for he has never rejoiced in his father's love.

Jesus leaves the story unfinished, forcing us to formulate our own ending. Will the older son see his father's desire for a loving relationship? Will he see how much his father has loved him all these years? Will he allow the love of his father to break his hard heart? Will he come home?

We never know. We are forced to confront our own relationship with Father. Are we a slave in His house? Do we work to gain His approval or do we work joyfully from the experience of living in Father's love?

11/27/13

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