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Here’s a little unpublished parable I wrote trying to explain how I sometimes feel about the church. It’s wordy, so you might want to print it out. And don’t get mad if it ends up as the first chapter of a book some day. Here you go:

You’ll be a Dentist

Jack was born to be a dentist. Both his mother and father were dentists and from an early age they took Jack with them once a week to their local dental school. Even as a child Jack loved dental school because of the children’s program where kids gathered in colorful rooms and listened to well-mannered teachers read ancient stories about famous dentists, pioneer dentists who created endodontic and prosthodontic procedures. Jack sat wide eyed and mouth agape, as close as he could to his teacher as she turned page after glorious page of cartooned characters knuckle deep in the mouths of sun-drenched and bushy-bearded patients.

Jack would color pictures of molars and lateral incisors, first and second cuspids and third molars, sometimes referred to as wisdom teeth, the teacher would say, handing Jack a black and white line drawing of a tooth wearing a cap and gown. When Jack’s mom and dad picked him up from the children’s program they’d lean down with their perfectly bright smiles and look at his drawings, affirming he got the teeth in the right order, pointing out what a skilled dentist could do about that slight overbite. Jack was thrilled, and he knew when he grew up he would become a dentist.

From the children’s program Jack joined the dental school youth group where they learned even more about dentistry amidst three-legged sack races and pizza feeds, and was always excited when the youth leader rolled out the canister of laughing gas. At the end of each night the youth leader would stop and tell another story about dentists who practiced their skills in back rooms, under the ospices of antediluvian governments threatened by the rise of the dental class. This made Jack feel like his calling to be a dentist was dangerous and exciting and birthed in him a desire for a similar adventure.

One morning before dental school, Jack’s parents gave him a book, The Ancient Story of Dentistry and explained he would be allowed to attend the grand lecture, a weekly class where the adult dental students heard a presentation interpreting the ways of the ancient book. Jack was beside himself. He read the first three chapters in the car on the way to school and sat with his parents, trying to understand the teachings of the head professor. Even though he didn’t comprehend all of what he heard, he understood bits and pieces and went home to read the rest of the book, completing it in just under a year. Reading the book gave him more questions than answers. It was something of a confusing book, mostly stories with very few points and even fewer mandates for practical application. The lectures by the head professor would help Jack translate those stories and apply them to his life and daily routines, and Jack kept these routines religiously. He brushed his teeth with one-hundred strokes each night and flossed and rarely ate without rinsing his mouth with hydrogen peroxide to prevent gum disease.

Jack developed terrific personal habits and enjoyed the lectures but wanted more than principals for growth as a dentist, he actually longed to be more like the characters in the stories in the book itself. Not only this, but the teaching Jack was getting was beginning to repeat itself. As the years went on, Jack actually knew where the head professor was going with his illustrations and could recite from memory the principles the professor was about to list.

Jack made an appointment with the head professor, a man he loved and who loved him and the professor sat on the other side of a desk, surrounded by books interpreting The Ancient Book of Dentistry. Jack told the professor he wanted to be a dentist, and asked where he could he go to practice dentistry. The professor smiled and affirmed Jack and came around the desk to pat him on the back. Jack, the professor said, you’ve always been an eager young man, one of our better dentists, to be sure. I wish the rest of our students had your enthusiasm.

Thanks, Jack said. But I’d really like to practice dentistry. I mean I don’t know everything, but I know enough to help somebody with a tooth ache or pull a third molar I haven’t done it much but I think I can figure it out as I go.

The professor flicked his finger into the air as though to point to a light bulb. He went back to his desk and pulled out a brochure. I know exactly what you should do, the professor said. You should go to Dental University, it’s where I graduated from. In fact, our little dental school helped start this program years ago. It’s now one of the best in the country. You’ll love it!

Jack was so excited he almost forgot to thank the professor. He read the brochure twice through, while sitting at stoplights and called the University the second he got home. Within a month, Jack was enrolled at Dental University and spent the next two years studying the intricacies and various theories of dentistry. When Jack finished the program, his local dental school honored him with an informal luncheon and praised the merit of his work. After the luncheon, the head professor offered Jack a job. He said he wanted him to work for the little dental school where he first learned about teeth. Once again, Jack was excited. Jack loved the little Dental School and loved the professor.

Jack spent the next few years on staff at his local dental school but there was still something missing. He went back to the professor, saying that while he loved his job as a teacher, he wanted more. He actually wanted to practice dentistry.

The professor was taken aback, slightly offended that Jack would imply they were not already doing dentistry. No, Jack said, it’s dentistry, it’s just that it’s a school, right? I mean it’s all about learning about dentistry. When do we actually do dentistry?

The professor reminded Jack of the many programs taking people to other countries to do dental work and how homeless people with terrible teeth could come in once a week and listen to a lecture about dentistry in exchange for food. Jack was confused. The professor was right. They really were doing dentistry.

Late one night, though, Jack took a long walk through the streets of his town, noticing on every few corners another little dental school. There were dental schools for people who were afraid of pain and there were hard-nosed dental schools that didn’t use anesthetic (he walked more briskly past these schools) and even another Dental University that fed into dental schools Jack didn’t know much about. Jack felt like there was something missing but didn’t know what it was.

One night, Jack woke up in a cold sweat. He had an idea, and the idea terrified him. What if he opened a little office to actually practice dentistry? What if he just took in patients and worked on their teeth? Sure he’d teach them about hygiene and all the basics but the bulk of his efforts would involve pulling molars and installing braces.

Jack took the idea back to the head professor. The head professor sat stalwart beneath the shelves of intimidating books and explained what Jack was talking about was dangerous. People could get hurt, for example, or could learn improper hygiene unless the practices were supervised by a dental scholar. The professor reluctantly suggested Jack start another little dental school, maybe a school for younger students who had different methods of learning.

That’s not what I want to do, Jack said. I want to practice dentistry. I know there’s more to learn but I feel like I know enough. This comment was misinterpreted by the professor, and he began to see Jack as something of a rebel who was loose with the ancient truths. The professor loved Jack but his constant questions and pointing out inconsistencies unnerved him, especially during staff meetings. Jack was dismissed from his position at the little dental school and he was distraught.

For weeks Jack had trouble sleeping. He was misunderstood by the community he loved and their relations were strained and part of it was his fault. He hadn’t respectfully communicated his desire to do more than just teach and learn. He would still attend the weekly lecture, but fewer and fewer people spoke with him and some of his oldest friends would turn away when he approached them.

Still, Jack knew he needed to move forward with his idea. He opened a little office in town, bought an old barbers chair and a work-light from home depot and posted an ad in the local paper. Before long, he had patients. They didn’t understand the concept completely and had always taken their dental needs to dental school where they learned preventive hygiene and heard stories about ancient dentists, but they appreciated what Jack was doing. His practice was simple enough. He’d pull a tooth or two and give out colorful tooth brushes to kids. He’d even tell stories from the ancient book to those who wanted to hear them, and to his surprise, many did.

As Jack’s dental practice grew, he felt alive. He was finally practicing dentistry. But he also felt alone. Things had become so uncomfortable at the local dental school that he stopped attending. With the distance in relationship, the dental school thought of Jack as suspect. He wasn’t under their authority, and if he wasn’t under their authority, how could they monitor whether or not he was being true to The Ancient Book of Dentistry?

Any rumor of mistakes made by Jack turned into fodder for backroom conversations at the little school of dentistry. The professors viewed him as a maverick and an outsider. Upon hearing that Jack was telling stories from the Ancient Book to his patients, the leaders of the local dental schools formed a council and called Jack to stand before their authority. He stood opposite a long table of head professors as they questioned him about his practice, asking what authority he had to teach dentistry outside their governance. Jack said he wasn’t teaching dentistry at all, that he was doing dentistry. Some of the professors looked confused and others simply rolled their eyes, flipping through the Ancient Book looking for evidence against him. Jack referenced the ancient stories, saying the system of authority was loose and the emphasis was in the going and doing, not the teaching, even though in the book itself it had created a bit of chaos. The professors opened The Ancient Book of Dentistry and showed Jack the two places in the book where an authoritarian structure was discussed.

But that structure looks nothing like our structure, Jack said. Our structure looks like a school system. That structure hardly had professional teachers at all! And there were no classrooms, it’s a book of dentists doing dental work in all kinds of crazy places. The professors looked visibly angry. They questioned Jack about what the world would look like if anybody were allowed to practice dentistry. They told stories about gingivitis.

Jack tried to calm the professors down. He explained how much he learned in dental school and agreed that without their education he’d be of no help to his patients. He respectfully explained that while the dental school system was remarkable it was also bureaucratic and designed primarily to create and sustain further education. He said he wanted more and had even found his education was only enhanced through the work he was doing at his practice. He said the truths he’d learned from the professors had come alive and were that much more meaningful.

This is dentistry! one of the professors interrupted him loudly. This. We are dentists. This is what dentistry is! What you are doing is something else. It’s not dentistry. It’s dangerous. It’s malicious!

Jack let the man speak and then politely disagreed. He said dentistry was more than just learning and scholarship, and there were other dental leaders besides academics and teachers. He said dentistry was robust, multi-cultural and there were all kinds of schools of thought associated with it. He said there were people all over the world who were actually practicing dentistry, not just teaching about it. He asked if dentistry could possibly be more than a system of cyclical learning about dentistry. He asked if there was ever a point where people began to live the stories told in The Ancient Book rather than just study those stories.

The professor’s shot back that Jack was disrespecting  The Ancient Book, but Jack stood firm and said he loved the book and had found like-minded characters in the stories. He said in his times of great loneliness he would read the book and know what he was doing was right.

That isn’t for you to decide, Jack, one of the professors said bluntly. He pressed his finger against the book laid open on the table. The book is very complicated, written for another culture in another time. We have to guide people through this book and interpret it for them. There must be governance over people’s lives or they will go astray!

Jack agreed and affirmed his appreciation for their work, and even their governance. At this point he felt insecure about his position. He knew if they didn’t understand him he would be cast out of the community of dentists forever. He spoke timidly. It’s true, they learn about dentistry from you, he stammered. I don’t mean any disrespect. Please try to understand. At this point Jack felt weak. I love dentistry. Jack said, staring at the floor and wiping away tears. I have given my life to this school and the people who go to this school. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. Jack could no longer talk. He was embarrassed and afraid.

The professor who knew Jack best felt compassion and walked around the table, offering Jack a chair. The professor knelt beside his former student.

Jack, the professor whispered peacefully. What is it that you want?

Jack fell his head into the professor’s chest. I want to graduate, Jack said. I just want to graduate.