© 2009 Robert Seubert
© 2009 The Urantia Book Fellowship
Several years ago I read the book Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes. It was a fictional novel about a man who had a very low IQ and was selected to be part of a scientific experiment to increase his intelligence. The experiment had been quite successful with a laboratory mouse named Algernon. The experiment turned the man into a super-genius. I couldn’t put the book down and I couldn’t stop talking about it.
One day, for my birthday, a friend gave me a very surprising and novel gift. In a cage about the size of a bird cage was a tiny black mouse that she had bought in a pet store. I was at first flabbergasted by the gift, but then I began to smile and then to laugh. My friend watched my face with joy and then suggested that I name the mouse Algernon. And so I did. I now had a new friend, Algernon, a little black mouse. I quickly grew to like him and then love him.
There was a little book that came with the pet, which I read so as to be able to care for my little friend. The book said that the mouse would come into my hand, climb up my arm and even go into my shirt pocket if I let him. The thought of this delighted me and I was eager to get to know Algernon better. I opened the cage door and put my hand in and reached for him. Much to my dismay, Algernon frantically tried to get away from me. He ran to one corner of the cage and then to another, trying in desperation to escape me. He was terrified.
I stood there dumbfounded. I was disappointed and, as silly as it might sound, for a very brief moment, I even felt rejected. I started to imagine myself in his position and asked myself how I would feel if some big giant, about ten thousand times bigger than me, reached his hand toward me to try to take hold of me.
I stood for a long time looking at the poor little animal breathing so heavily in the corner of his cage. After much thinking, I decided to adopt a new approach. I would slowly place my hand into the cage and rest it on the floor of the cage with the palm up and just hold it there for ten minutes or so, two or three times a day for as long as it might take to show Algernon I would not harm him.
The next day, I opened the cage door and, ever-so-slowly, placed my hand in and rested it on the floor of the cage. Again the mouse scrambled to get away from me. In a haphazard struggle, he crashed into the walls of the cage in an effort to escape me. But I didn’t move. I stood there like a statue until my arm felt like it would fall off. I would remove my hand and several hours later I would return to do it again.
I continued to do this twice and even three times a day. As I held my hand in the cage, I found that I was trying to talk to Algernon in a very low, gentle voice. “Come on little man. I will not harm you. I promise you.” I held my hand as still as I could. I spoke softly to him and never took my eyes off of him.
Several days passed, and as I continued my effort, I began to notice that he was not quite as frantic. Encouraged, I spoke to Algernon, “That’s good little man. You see that I will not harm you. I am your friend, little mouse.”
One morning I reached my hand in the cage and he did not run from me at all. He just stood there. I was elated and much encouraged. “That’s it, Algernon.” I whispered, “no need to fear me. I am your friend. Be my friend too. Don’t be afraid.”
Then one day when I placed my hand in the cage he stepped over to my hand, put his nose close to my finger, and sniffed it. Then he stepped away. I couldn’t believe how happy I felt. I would have never believed that a thing like this would even be important to me, but it was. It was my desire to invest even more time into this relationship. The next day something even more important happened. With my hand in the cage, Algernon stepped over to me and placed his front paw on my finger. I was even more elated. He held it there for a moment and then slowly stepped away.
Soon after, the big day came. As once again I held my hand palm up in the cage, Algernon came over to me and…he stepped into my hand. He stood there for a minute or so and then lay down in my hand. My eyes were glued to him as a tear ran down my face. For a moment it felt like a soothing wave of electricity went through my body. I was tremendously moved by the realization that this tiny, helpless creature trusted me enough to step into my hand. I felt an overpowering feeling of being honored, and I knew that I had learned a very valuable lesson in life, a lesson about love and friendship and trust.
I learned what it meant to be trustworthy. I learned that being trustworthy was completely within my power. It was something that I can choose to do. Perhaps the greatest and most beautiful things in life are within our own power. I learned this invaluable lesson about the sanctity of trust from a mouse…a tiny, helpless, little mouse named Algernon.
Robert Seubert received The Urantia Book as a Christmas gift in 1974, and now considers himself a humble novice student and a clumsy practitioner of Jesus’ teachings about love.