Books: Rich Man, Poor Man

GOLDEN GOAT (63 pp.)—Raymond L. Bruckberger (translated by Virgilia Peterson)—Pantheon ($2).

Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of God—St. Luke 6:20.

With these words from the Gospels as his text, a Dominican priest has reworked one of the great Christian parables. Being a Frenchman and something of a man of action too (he fought in the Resistance—TIME, Aug. 11), Father Raymond L. Bruckberger tells his tale with a Gallic verve that makes his theme contemporary as well as timeless. The parable of the Golden Goat:

Once upon a time there was a poor man. He was not meek in spirit, but lazy, mean, vituperative and usually drunk. He stood all day long, a beggar, by the church in a little French town, and when anyone gave him alms, he was apt to curse and spit and swipe at them with his stick for thanks. Everybody despised him, and he despised everybody.

Now it happened that there lived in the same town a rich man. He was compassionate and tireless (though tactful) in charitable works. Everybody loved him, and he loved everybody—even the unworthy poor man. He gave the beggar a cottage on the castle grounds, and said nothing when his guest swore, drank, tracked mud on the floor, spit on the rugs, ate like a hog and threw a glass of water in the butler’s face. Everybody told the rich man that he was a fool to waste his time and money on such an ingrate—he was beyond help.

Yet all at once, to everybody’s astonishment, the beggar became a model citizen. Though people could scarcely believe it possible, the reason seemed to be that he had found something outside himself to love: a small goat. He had found her in the hills one day. She licked his hand. He stroked her and looked into her clear dark eyes. He saw gold flames whirling in the depths. “My Golden One!” said the unworthy poor man. Although he was very poor, he bought black shoe polish to shine her little hoofs.

Sure that the goat loved him, the poor man let her visit the rich man whenever she liked. One winter day, the goat took sick. The poor man carried her to the rich man’s house and let her stay there through the stormy night. The next day he waited for her to come home. He wanted her to come of her own free will, of her own free love. Being only a goat, she forgot to, and stayed at the rich man’s house, while the poor man led a life of complete dejection, without even the spirit to pursue his vices.

One day, at long last, the little goat lay dying. All at once she remembered the poor man. Staggering up, she ran home to him and died in his arms. Brokenhearted, he prayed that she might go to heaven. She did. “It is somewhat unusual for animals to enter paradise,” said the gatekeeper. “Still, we have ‘a few exceptions …”

Many years later the worthy rich man and the unworthy poor man followed her there. “What did you do that was good?” the gatekeeper asked the unworthy poor man. “Not one thing,” he replied sadly. “I was poor . . . And I loved a little goat.” The gatekeeper said, “Come in!” With one foot in heaven, the poor man remembered the rich man toiling up the slopes of the sky, and asked the gatekeeper if he might not be admitted to paradise too. “I know perfectly well that the Rich Man is not worth a tinker’s dam,” he explained. “But I expect to enjoy seeing how a camel manages to pass through the eye of a needle.”

At that moment, the rich man arrived. “I always despised Injustice,” he declared, “and I have the Grand Cross of the Order of Social Merit.”

“Don’t go on,” said the gatekeeper. “You may come in. But let me tell you, you have confoundedly good luck, and that’s an understatement … to have had a real Poor Man for a friend.”

Father Bruckberger does not try to do much explaining of all this. Parables are parables.