The Man Who Discovered Gravity

An allegory

The Man Who Discovered Gravity

Imagine a man who stumbled upon a force the world had never named. Not
recorded in books, not discussed in lecture halls. He called it gravity.
Apples didn’t fall—they were summoned. Rain obeyed. A child’s toy dropped to
the ground not by chance, but by decree of an invisible pull. He whispered this
revelation to friends, and they passed it on. Some laughed, others listened. His
ideas caught on like wildfire tugged by the wind. He gathered followers, built
diagrams, and unveiled a new vision of how the universe moved.
But not everyone remained convinced.

One day, a man—once a devoted disciple—stood and posed a question: “If
everything is pulled down, why not the sun? Why do the stars not fall?”
He argued that gravity was flawed, that not all things obeyed this force. And if the
theory failed in the heavens, could it truly rule the Earth? With certainty and
charisma, he spun his own counter-theory. People listened. Some left the first
man’s teachings behind. Soon, there were two movements—both convinced they
had uncovered truth. The towns were filled with debate. The laws of motion were
rewritten in competing tongues. The world, once illuminated by a single
understanding, now flickered in contradiction.
The people grew confused.

Now, to a deeper comparison—the schism between the Catholic Church and
Protestantism. In many ways, this allegory mirrors history: an original revelation,
gathered followers, a growing institution, then a moment of protest from within,
challenging doctrine and reshaping belief.

The Catholic Church sees itself as the direct continuation of the community
Jesus established, with an unbroken lineage of leadership through the apostles
and popes. That origin story gives it a sense of divine legitimacy and institutional
authority. Protestant movements, beginning with figures like Martin Luther, were
responses to perceived errors or excesses—driven by conscience and a return to
what they believed were more authentic teachings.

So, who is right? That’s a question that stretches beyond logic into the domain of
faith, tradition, culture, and personal revelation. Both sides carry deep
convictions, rich histories, and diverse interpretations.

But maybe this parable offers part of the answer. When the people grew
confused, perhaps the truth wasn’t just in choosing a side—but in continuing to
seek understanding, with humility and courage.