Is this thing, this idol that I'm holding in my hand, a lie?
Once there was a wood-carver who measured a block of wood and drew a pattern on it. He worked with chisel and plane and carved it into a human figure. He gave it human beauty and put it in a little shrine. He cut down cedars; he selected the cypress and the oak; he planted the pine in the forest to be nourished by the rain. Then he used part of the wood to make a fire to warm himself and bake his bread. Then -- yes, it's true -- he took the rest of it and made himself a god to worship! He made an idol and bowed down in front of it! He burned part of the tree to roast his meat and to keep himself warm. He said, "Ah, that fire feels good." Then he took what was left and made his god: a carved idol! He fell down in front of it, worshiped and prayed to it. "Rescue me!" he said. "You are my god!" Such stupidity and ignorance! Their eyes are closed, and they cannot see. Their minds are shut, and they cannot think. The person who made the