The very fine Brazilian Bible scholar Carlos Mesters begins his book, Por Tras das Palavras (Vozes, 1984) with a parable. At one time (he writes) there was a great house called “The People’s House” with a beautiful, large door opening right onto the street. Many people passed through the door. Then, one day, two scholars arrived. They loved ancient things, and when they saw the house they perceived its value. They discovered a side door to the house where they could enter quietly and study unperturbedly, and so they started using it instead of the much traveled door of the people.

The scholars studied the house, uncovering its rich history and many beautiful qualities. At night they would describe their discoveries to the people, who more and more came to admire the house and the scholars. Many days passed. The people now treated the house differently. Now they respected the house. They didn’t dance and sing in it any more. When they entered they remained quiet, waiting in awe for the scholars to speak. Gradually some of the people even stopped using the front door to the house–until everyone used the side door. As the people would enter that side door they would receive a little guidebook explaining the ancient and rare artifacts in the house.

Finally, the front door was completely forgotten. Weeds and bushes grew and hid the door from sight. The vegetation also covered the front windows so that the house became dark, illuminated only by candles.

More time went by. While the scholars continued to enter the house through its side door, holding meetings during which they argued about antiques, the humble people stopped going to the house. The novelty of the discoveries had worn off, and the people were tired of the dark house with its side entrance. They didn’t really understand the scholars’ discussions anyway. The people walked by on the street but no longer even saw the house. Occasionally they would pause as if lost. Something seemed to be missing, but the people didn’t know what. The people no longer remembered the house.

Then one night an old beggar, looking for protection against the cold, pushed his way into the brush and stumbled across the big house and its front door. He entered through a crack. The house was beautiful and it was warm. The next night the beggar came back. Soon, he brought some companions, bagladies and runaways. They began to come every night. The brush was beaten back and light entered the house. The people were happy and began to whisper, “this is our house.” The news spread from mouth-to-mouth.

In the mornings when the scholars would arrive through their side door, they would notice the telltale signs, indicating that the humble people were sneaking in at night. The scholars caucused and some got mad, saying, “the people are going to mess up and profane our house.” But one scholar hid at night in a corner of the front room and saw the people come in without asking permission to dance and sing and play in the house. He liked what he saw. In fact, he was so impressed that he came out of his corner and joined the circle of those who were dancing. Then he discovered what he should have always known: that the purpose of scholarship was to help the people find joy in life. After that, he also started entering the house through the front door, and he saw the house in yet a new way.