The following story is an adaptation of an old Middle Eastern tale, one version of which is about Nasrudin, who has been alternately characterized as a wise buffoon or a foolish sage. This setting has been changed so that it relates more to the modern world, and a new ending has also been added.
The story begins, not with the man who lost his key, but with a conscientious preacher in a small town, with his parsonage at one end of town and the church and vestry at the other end. As such, each day he would walk across town to get to work and back home again. Each day he would take the same route – six blocks down and three blocks across on the way to the vestry, and the reverse of that, three blocks down six blocks across on the way back home. On this particular night, he reversed his route, going six blocks down and three blocks across. (And if you know anything about fables, you might recognize that this portends something rather unusual occurring.) He also made his journey particularly late, such that there were no lights on in the houses and there was no moon in the sky. Thus, it was practically pitch dark, except for the streetlamps on each corner.
As he was making his way back home, he saw a dark figure under the street lamp a block or so away. At first he thought it might be a large dog, but upon approaching, he discovered it was a man on all fours, combing his fingers through the grass under the street lamp. He slowed down as he approached, until he stopped in front of the man.
“Lose something, did you?” he greeted the man.
“Brilliant deduction” came the surly reply.
“What did you lose, if I may ask?”
“A key – if it’s any business of yours,” with this reply punctuated by his piercing glare.
Undaunted, the preacher offered, “Can I help you look for it?”
“It’s a free country – do what you like,” came the flippant response.
The preacher was perplexed, yet not discouraged, and with his being a kindly sort, he was soon down on his hands and knees crawling under the street lamp looking for the key. For some time, the two of them were searching through the grass, under the nearby shrub, along the sidewalk, and down the curb and gutter of the street, looking for the key. After a half hour with no success, the preacher suggested that they search in a more orderly fashion, making swaths to cover the area under the street lamp. The man followed suit, with a shrug of his shoulders, so as to say “whatever.” When this strategy failed to produce the key, the preacher suggested they make their swaths in the perpendicular direction, so as not to overlook any ground. The man complied with neither protest nor enthusiasm.
After considerable time without success, the preacher finally announced, “Sir, I don’t think your key is out here, or else we would’ve found it by now.”
The man responded with a casual, “I know.”
Perhaps too casual, as it aroused the preacher’s curiosity, with his asking, “And just how long have you known this?”
“Oh, since before you came, and I guess since before I even started looking.”
“What? If you knew it all this time, just why have you been looking in this particular spot?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” the man replied as he pointed up at the street lamp, “because this is where the light is.”
It is at this point where the traditional tale ends, yet we discover that there is yet more to this tale, or as Paul Harvey might have added, “Now for the rest of the story.”
The befuddled preacher, tired as he was after this long day at work, could not let go of this conundrum, and so he asked, “If you didn’t lose your key here, do you know where you lost it?”
At this point, the man’s demeanor made a dramatic shift, with his nonchalant attitude turning to anxiety and wariness. He raised his arm and pointed back over his shoulder, to the backyard of the house on the corner, as he stammered “B-b-b-back there.”
The preacher squinted into the dark, with just enough light penetrating the depths to reveal just how neglected and overgrown this backyard was. (At this point, it should perhaps be pointed out that the man lived in the house on the corner, and it was his own backyard he pointed to.)
The preacher readily offered, “Why didn’t you say so? I would’ve gladly gone back there with you to look for your key.”
At this point, the man’s eyes widened and he jumped back, as if he’d seen a ghost, and with his frightful stare at the preacher, he protested, “You gotta be out of your mind, if you think I’m going back there, in the pitch dark, with you, a perfect stranger, to look for my key. Go on home, and leave me alone.”
Here are some proposed study questions, to help tease meaning out of this frivolous tale.
What might the key symbolize? And what might it unlock?
What does it mean that the man and the preacher were searching in the light, and in the man’s front yard?
What does the man’s backyard symbolize?
What is the nature of your darkness, where you might have a key hidden away?