Mercury and the Man Bitten by an Ant

In the golden age of ancient Greece, when gods still walked among mortals and the boundary between heaven and earth was thinner than it is today, there lived a man in a small village nestled between rolling hills and ancient olive groves. This man was known throughout the village for his extreme reactions to even the smallest slights and injuries.

One bright summer morning, the man was sitting beneath an old oak tree, enjoying the cool shade as he prepared to eat the simple meal he had packed for his midday repast. He had just laid out his bread, cheese, and olives on a cloth when a tiny ant, no bigger than a grain of barley, crawled onto his hand and bit him.

“Ouch!” cried the man, shaking his hand vigorously. The ant fell to the ground, where it scurried away toward a nearby anthill.

The man’s face grew red with anger as he rubbed the small spot where the ant had bitten him. Though the pain was already fading and the mark was barely visible, his indignation continued to grow. He glared at the anthill where the offending ant had disappeared.

“How dare that insignificant creature attack me!” he fumed. “I shall teach all ants a lesson they will never forget!”

In his rage, the man leapt to his feet, forgetting entirely about his meal. He stormed over to the anthill, which was bustling with activity as the small insects went about their daily work. Without hesitation, he began to kick at the mound, destroying the careful construction and sending ants scattering in all directions.

But this wasn’t enough to satisfy his anger. The man hurried to his home and returned with a large bucket of water, which he poured over the ruined anthill, drowning many of the ants who hadn’t managed to escape his initial attack.

Still not content with the destruction he had caused, the man fetched a torch, set fire to the grasses surrounding the anthill, and watched with grim satisfaction as the flames consumed what remained of the ants’ home.

As the man stood there, admiring his handiwork and feeling justified in his excessive vengeance, he failed to notice a tall figure approaching from behind. This was no ordinary man, but Mercury himself – the swift messenger of the gods, known for his winged sandals, clever mind, and role as divine arbiter of disputes.

Mercury had been passing through the mortal realm on an errand for Jupiter when he witnessed the man’s disproportionate retaliation against the tiny ants. Curious and concerned, he decided to intervene.

“Good day to you, mortal,” said Mercury, his voice melodious yet commanding.

The man whirled around, startled by the sudden appearance of this stranger. Immediately, he recognized the visitor as no ordinary man – the winged sandals and the caduceus, the herald’s staff entwined with serpents, made the god’s identity unmistakable.

“L-Lord Mercury,” stammered the man, falling to his knees in reverence and fear. “I am honored by your divine presence.”

Mercury gestured for the man to rise. “Tell me, why have you destroyed this colony of ants with such fury? What crime have they committed to deserve such total devastation?”

Still trembling slightly in the presence of the god, the man pointed to his hand. “One of them bit me, great Mercury. It caused me pain, and I sought justice for the injury.”

Mercury looked at the man’s hand, where no mark was even visible anymore. Then he glanced at the smoldering ruins of the anthill, where countless ants had perished for the offense of a single member of their community.

“I see,” said Mercury thoughtfully. “And you believe this response was proportionate to the injury you suffered?”

“The ant attacked me without provocation,” insisted the man, though his voice had lost some of its conviction under Mercury’s steady gaze.

“Interesting,” replied Mercury. “If Jupiter were to use the same measure of justice that you have demonstrated here today, what do you suppose would happen?”

The man looked confused. “I don’t understand your meaning, divine one.”

Mercury smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “Let me explain. Humans frequently offend the gods – through broken oaths, neglected sacrifices, acts of hubris, or simple disrespect. If Jupiter were to respond to these offenses with the same level of disproportionate vengeance that you have shown to these ants, what do you imagine would be left of humanity?”

The man paled as understanding dawned. “But surely my situation is different… the ant bit me deliberately!”

“Did it?” asked Mercury. “Or was it simply defending itself, thinking you might harm its home? Perhaps it was confused, or frightened by your giant presence. Can you truly know its intentions?”

The man had no answer.

“Consider this,” continued Mercury. “To this ant, you are as a god – immensely powerful and capable of destroying its entire world on a whim. And you have done exactly that, showing no mercy, no restraint, and no sense of proportion in your punishment.”

Mercury waved his caduceus over the ruined anthill, and suddenly the scene changed. The man found himself standing before an enormous mountain, feeling smaller than he had ever felt before. Above him loomed a gigantic figure – Jupiter himself, king of the gods, looking down with the same anger the man had directed at the ants.

“Wait!” cried the man in terror, falling to his knees. “Please, great Jupiter, whatever offense I have committed, I beg your mercy! I am but a tiny mortal!”

Just as suddenly, the terrifying vision vanished, and the man was back beside the ruined anthill with Mercury.

“Now you understand,” said Mercury gently. “True justice requires proportion. The response must fit the offense. Power without restraint is not justice but tyranny, whether wielded by gods or mortals.”

The man looked at the devastation he had caused with new eyes. “I… I have been foolish and cruel,” he admitted, shame coloring his voice.

“Yes,” agreed Mercury. “But unlike the ants you’ve destroyed, you have been given a chance to learn and change. Remember this lesson well: seek justice, not vengeance; practice restraint, not excess; and always consider how you would wish to be treated by those more powerful than yourself.”

With those words, Mercury vanished in a shimmer of golden light, leaving the chastened man alone with his thoughts. From that day forward, the man became known throughout the village for his patience, restraint, and sense of fair play – even when dealing with the smallest of creatures.

Moral: Let your response be proportionate to the offense. Those who demand excessive vengeance for small injuries would not wish the same standard applied to themselves by those more powerful.