The Banquet of Hands

 One chilly evening, as the fire crackled in the hearth, a curious little boy turned to his father and asked,

“Dad, what’s the real difference between gods and demons?”

The father smiled gently and replied, “That’s not something I can just tell you. You need to see it.”

He paused. “So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll host a grand banquet. I’ll invite both the gods and the demons. Watch closely—and you’ll get your answer.”

A few weeks later, the house buzzed with excitement. The long banquet hall was set with ornate dishes, golden spoons, and steaming platters of delicious food. As promised, hundreds of guests—both gods and demons—arrived.

The demons, loud and impatient, pushed to the front. “We eat first,” one of them demanded. “The gods can wait.”

The host raised his hands in agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But there’s one condition: you must all tie long wooden planks to your arms so you can’t bend your elbows. The same rule will apply to the gods when it’s their turn.”

The demons, eager for the first taste, scoffed. “If it applies to them too, we’ll do it.”

So the demons sat in long rows, planks strapped tightly to their arms. Their soup arrived—hot, fragrant, and served in deep bowls.

But as soon as they picked up their spoons, frustration set in.

They couldn’t bend their arms. They couldn’t bring the spoons to their mouths. They tried tilting the soup into their mouths from overhead. It spilled down their faces, into their eyes, onto their clothes. They yelled, cursed the host, and shoved one another in anger.

“What kind of trick is this?” one shouted.

“This is humiliation!” another growled.

They stormed out, stomping snow and soup in every direction.

Then came the gods’ turn.

They too sat down in neat lines, calm and composed, their arms restricted by the same wooden planks.

The soup arrived. But instead of frustration, something different happened.

Each god quietly turned to the one sitting beside them and, without a word, began feeding them.

Spoon after spoon, meal after meal, they laughed, thanked one another, and shared a beautiful evening. Not one drop was wasted. Not one argument sparked.

The young boy watched it all.

After the guests had left, the boy turned to his father, eyes wide.

The father knelt down and said,

“Son, demons only think of feeding themselves—and fail. Gods think of feeding others—and everyone is nourished.”

He paused, looking into his son’s thoughtful eyes.

“The world gives us two choices in how we live,” he continued. “We can either be takers—always grabbing for ourselves. Or we can be givers—offering what we have to others.”

“Societies where people only take? They end up divided, chaotic, full of pain. But where people give—of time, love, effort—there’s harmony. And happiness.”

The boy nodded, slowly understanding.

And that night, as he went to bed, he wasn’t thinking about gods or demons—he was thinking about the kind of person he wanted to become.

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Reflection:

In life, we’re all handed the same tools. The difference lies in whether we use them to serve ourselves—or to serve others. The more you give, the more life gives back.

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Out Of The Box May 21, 2025