Tonight's memorial. - The Point.

by nicolaou 18 Replies latest jw friends

  • nicolaou

    The following tale will only take a few minutes to read. I strongly encourage you to take the time and see 'the point' for yourself.


    Mystery Flu

    The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting, and they're sending some doctors over there to investigate it.

    You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the CDC in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.

    By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu".

    The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?" That's when the president of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. And that's why that night
    you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a young man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu." It has come to Europe.

    Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die.

    Britain closes its borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and its Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."

    Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God."

    It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." And while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made. "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
    Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California. Oregon. Arizona. Florida. Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
    And then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. And when you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals."

    Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we don't call your name, you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and that this is the end of the world.

    Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me."
    Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type." Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another - some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the

    As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need...we need you to sign a consent form."

    You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a small child. We weren't prepared. We need it all."

    "But - but..."

    "You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all - we need it all!" "But can't you give him a transfusion?" "If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?"

    In numb silence you do.

    Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"

    Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?"

    Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your Mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"

    And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why - why have you forsaken me?"

    And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.

    Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED! DON'T YOU CARE?"

    Is that what HE wants to say?

    "Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we can BEGIN to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen."

    Author Unknown


  • anglise

    I am sorry but I find that type of emotional blackmail sick.
    What people like you fail to acknowledge is that the whole scenario of death to combat death could/should have been avoided by an omnipotent being.
    Do you do something good for your child and then hold that over them for the rest of their lives as some kind of IOU.

  • SixofNine

    Completely unrealistic fantasy.

    So it shouldn't bother me at all.

    But it does, since I know the evil perpetrated on the world by that thinking. SICK, SICK, SICK!!!

    Go grow a concience. People of the nations have them by nature, see if you can borrow one of theirs.

  • Farkel

    : Is that what HE wants to say?

    He KILLED his very own only-begotton son, you nitwit.



  • willy_think

    i am standing in the parking lot with my son when the blood vaccine is finished my son said "daddy it's ok now!!! we will live!!" "no" i tell him "you can't have the vaccine. it contains blood cells and the WTB&TS inc. tells us not to take it. may jehovah keep you my son." i watch him die. "can you not see how much i love him"

    i thank god death is not the end

    the thoughts and opinions in this post do not necessarly represent those of the WTB&TS inc. or any of it's subsidary corporations.

  • rabotnik

    Is this kinda like "One 'Flu' Over the Cukoo's Nest"?


  • expatbrit


    An interesting story.

    However, to make the analogy closer to the ransom sacrifice myth, the story should have stated that the father did in fact have the power to prevent the disease, or cure it instantly when it did start. Instead, he let his son die.

    Not a very loving father.


  • Frenchy

    Thank you for that post. I have always had a problem understanding this story (and others like the railroad bridge thing) in its/their attempt to illustrate the concept of the sacrifice of Christ. I would appreciate any help that you can give me on that matter. I would like to state at the very beginning that I believe in God. I am trying very hard to continue believing in Him. This is in no way an attempt to make light or discredit the Bible’s account of Jesus and his sacrificial death.

    Here is my problem:
    What makes this (and the railroad bridge) story works is the concept of a father having to face a situation where he must lose his son in order to benefit a number (in this story it’s the whole world) of people. The father is faced with a problem that can only be solved by his son’s death. He is powerless to do anything himself. The ‘right’ thing for him to do is to forfeit his son in order to make things right. So far so good. Here is the point that presents the problem for me: What makes these stories ‘work’ is the fact that we all realize that the son will be irretrievably lost to the father. This was not the case with Christ. His life would be returned to him in less than three days. My question is this: How can the grief of the father in the story be compared to that of God? God knows for a certainty that he is bringing his son back. The story does not tell us that the father knows for a certainty that his son will be resurrected and I find that to be very significant in all such stories. What makes these stories work, as I stated previously, is the irretrievable loss of something that is held to be so dear. This was not the case in Christ’s sacrifice.
    I look forward to anyone’s comments that might help me to see this in a better light.

    -Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it-

  • willy_think

    one flew over the coo-coo's nest

    the day thay put him to rest
    we were 9 then 10 again
    another entered the looney bin

    one sings like a sparrow
    his mind must be norrow
    one sits and stares
    at empty chairs
    one speeks in rhyme
    all the time
    jack the ripper
    lost his slipper

    i know me not to be insane
    yet i fell this constant pain
    rutherford, russell
    you steal from me
    free my mind and let me be


    the ideas and opinions expressed in this post do not necessiarly represent those of the WTB&TS inc. or any of it's subsidiary corporations.
  • dmouse

    I agree with most of what has been said here.
    The analogy falls down in a number of respects. The father in the story has no supernatural power whereas God could bring his son back to life after a short time. The father had no knowledge or involvement in the problem whereas God created the circumstances that led to our predicament (He put the tree there, while there was a known adversary on the loose, BEFORE they had the opportunity to mate. What a moronic thing to do considering what was at stake!). The father in the story is a powerless victim like everybody else whereas God is an omnipotent being who could do ANYTHING He wanted, including solving the problem right at the beginning without anyone having to suffer.
    What about the issue of universal sovereignty? Well, God could have just zapped any being who didn't accept it, in the long run that's what he's going to do anyway; why wait 6000 years? Faithful creatures would accept anything that the Almighty wanted to need for 6000 years of absolute horror. No need for a 6000 year 'court case.'
    In short, I feel for the father's predicament in the story; but God, if he exists, is either an incompetent coward or a complete sadistic psychopath.

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