The Boy Who Cried Wolf

I’m thinking today about the classic fable of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. A boy works for his village as a sheep herder. The herd was peaceful for many weeks. The boy became bored and thought he might liven up his day a bit by playing a prank on the village. He ran out of the hills and into the valley where the villagers were working, screaming all the way “Wolf! Wolf!” The villagers dropped their various projects and ran to assist the boy. Upon their arrival to the pasture they found nothing but the sheep grazing peacefully. They were good naturedly frustrated but returned to their work. The next day the boy’s work became unbearably boring again, so he repeated the stunt from the day before. Again, the villagers rushed to his aid, but they found no wolf attack. By the third day, the boy had grown addicted to this new game, while the villagers had grown wary of it. They were slow to answer his call, but they grudgingly came, even though they rightfully expected no wolf. The next day, the boy came running into town yelling for help. The men kept at their work, not feeling it worth the delay to trek up into the hills again. The women shook their heads and turned away, pretending not to hear. Not a body in the village moved to answer the shepherd boy’s call. As a result, every sheep in the flock was killed that day by a pack of ravenous wolves.
This fable has obvious daily applications, but I’ve been thinking of a less common way that it can be paralleled to relationships and parenting. A brutal downfall in modern relationships is the presence of this underlying feeling of not being good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not spiritual enough. All these, I feel, are the after effects, sometimes long after, of “the Boy Who Cried Wolf” principle. It is the nature of human beings to drown out repeated messages. Usually these messages are unnecessary because the hearer has memorized and habited the concept of the message, or because it has been recognized as unnecessary in the past and it is assumed to remain unnecessary presently. Just as the message announcing the wolf attack in the story, messages from parents, friends, and loved ones can become unheard because of unwise repetition. In the example of a parent-child relationship, children become accustomed to their mothers’ scolding and often ignore it or generate an automated response to satisfy their parent’s demands such as blurting a quick “please” after a “what should you say?”, or a “sorry” after a “go make them feel better.” These responses, despite appearing to create good habits, actually lead to insincerity. A forced “please” or “sorry” is obviously not heartfelt, and the repetition of such responses can lead to the repetition of feeling-less propriety.
On a deeper perspective, the things we say to one another affect us in ways that may not be obvious for many years. The accumulation of anything repeated is always greater than its original face-value. When a child is told they are being naughty once, they feel bad and try to change the behavior. After hearing it over and over, even if it is disguised by kind words, a child will, in a sense, build up an immune system to this particular criticism. The criticism is met with that learned automated response, which is usually the “ignore” or “delete message” button. When children, especially teenagers and young adult children, are met with excessive criticism, the results can be hugely detrimental to their futures. A child who has learned at a young age to ignore criticism because it is to frequent and to harsh will not recognize more earnest warnings. No matter what the content of the criticism is, if the child has developed an automated response, the response will be the same regardless of the severity of the action for which they are being criticized. When a child is scolded for something as simple as being five minutes late for their curfew, the automated response develops and when they are scolded for serious sins such as immorality, or illegal activity, the response will be a harshly learned ignore, or insincere apology.
This principle can apply to any type of relationship. Between a husband and wife, or boyfriend and girlfriend, it can appear in the repetitiveness of expressions of love. When the words “I love you” are used so commonly the echoing “I love you too” can become a lifeless, automated response rather than the sincere passionate reply it should be. In a friendship, the request for help and support, if taken advantage of too often and without since need, can lead to unbalance and destruction.
My suggestion, or rather, request is that we as a society strive to be less judgmental of others, even those we feel we have an obligation to teach, and especially those we feel we have an obligation to guide back to the right path. We must consider the effect our words will have, not only in the present moment, but years down the road. We must consider if the reasons we are criticizing are worth the consequence. Let not our children remember that we made fun of them for being overweight in their youth, or that they were told they were too sensitive, or that they were too boisterous, too flawed. Let not our loves remember us criticizing their intelligence, their methods of expressing love, and especially not their parenting abilities. And let not our friends remember us as the ones who made them feel inferior or used. This is not the legacy God would have us leave for the generations to come.
Let us learn to not speak without sincerity. Let us learn to forgive the little things, so that when the big trials come we have not burned bridges that separate us from those we love. Satan is strongest when we are isolated. Finally, let us not unknowingly scar those we love by not recognizing the impact our words have on them.