I think my standard for a convincing parable is not just that the parable feel true, but that it feels true and would feel false if it had gone the other way.
For example, there’s a parable about rowing on a lake in the fog. Another rowboat comes out of the fog and collides with yours. You get angry and start yelling, but when you notice the other rowboat is empty, you aren’t angry any more.
If we reverse the conclusion of that parable—the rowboat is empty, but you remain angry anyway—it would seem false to me.
By contrast, if the low-hanging grapes had tasted good and been nourishing, I don’t think I would find this parable false. This fox has a different perspective than the turtles, and it’s completely possible it could have found a niche that was not occupied previously.
Sure, outsiders who come into a new field and think they can solve everything in one quick blow are usually wrong. But outsiders who come into a field and try to cast old problems in a new light are sometimes right and productive, too.
I think my standard for a convincing parable is not just that the parable feel true, but that it feels true and would feel false if it had gone the other way.
For example, there’s a parable about rowing on a lake in the fog. Another rowboat comes out of the fog and collides with yours. You get angry and start yelling, but when you notice the other rowboat is empty, you aren’t angry any more.
If we reverse the conclusion of that parable—the rowboat is empty, but you remain angry anyway—it would seem false to me.
By contrast, if the low-hanging grapes had tasted good and been nourishing, I don’t think I would find this parable false. This fox has a different perspective than the turtles, and it’s completely possible it could have found a niche that was not occupied previously.
Sure, outsiders who come into a new field and think they can solve everything in one quick blow are usually wrong. But outsiders who come into a field and try to cast old problems in a new light are sometimes right and productive, too.