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Short Stories (Stories for the Youth), book by Father Tadros Yacoub Malaty

585- The Ancient Splendid Pot

 

The engaged couple was fond of buying the expensive ancient pots. On a trip to Europe, they visited a shop of memorials. The bride was attracted to an expensive large pot put in a corner and surrounded by attractive decorations. As she held it and told her groom that she liked it much admiring its beauty, she heard it say,

Fare bride, you dont know who I am. I wasnt that beautiful. I was a handful of dust. My master held me, put water on me and started to knead me. I cried, Leave me on the ground. Why do you knead me so harshly?

My master looked at me smiling and said, Not yet.

He put me in the machine and let it rotate. I felt dizzy and cried, Enough! Enough!

My master smiled saying, Not yet.

St-Takla.org Image: Ancient Ethiopian pottery, pots/kettles/jars - Axum archeological sites - From St-Takla.org's Ethiopia visit - Photograph by Michael Ghaly for St-Takla.org, April-June 2008. صورة في موقع الأنبا تكلا: صناعة الفخار الإثيوبية القديمة في أكسوم: قدر، قدور - صور الآثار السبعة في مدينة أكسوم - تصوير مايكل غالي لموقع الأنبا تكلاهيمانوت، من رحلة موقع الأنبا تكلا إلى إثيوبيا، إبريل - يونيو 2008.

St-Takla.org Image: Ancient Ethiopian pottery, pots/kettles/jars - Axum archeological sites - From St-Takla.org's Ethiopia visit - Photograph by Michael Ghaly for St-Takla.org, April-June 2008.

صورة في موقع الأنبا تكلا: صناعة الفخار الإثيوبية القديمة في أكسوم: قدر، قدور - صور الآثار السبعة في مدينة أكسوم - تصوير مايكل غالي لموقع الأنبا تكلاهيمانوت، من رحلة موقع الأنبا تكلا إلى إثيوبيا، إبريل - يونيو 2008.

He then put me in the furnace where the heat was very high. I said, Why do you burn me? What did I do O hard-hearted?

After a while, he opened the furnace smiling and saying, Not yet. He took me out where I breathed in and it was not hot. However, he took the brush to paint on me beautiful pictures. The smell of the dyes was very awful. I felt vomiting. I said to him, Enough enough! I cant bear the smell of the dyes.

However, he shook his head saying, Not yet.

I was about to die when he took me again to the furnace to fix the colors over me. The heat was doubled. I entreated him not to put me in it but in vain. Then, he opened the furnace, took me out and put me over a shelf to get cold. After a while, he fetched me a mirror and said, O hurt handful of dust, look!

I was surprised to find myself that beautiful. I said, This is not I, the handful of dust trodden by feet.

He answered, This is what I made. This is what the school of pain has done for you.

Dear bride, do not fear pain,

As your Lord walks with you in the path of pain.

If He leaves you without kneading you remain worthless dust.

If He does not put you in His machine you become formless clay.

If He does not put you in the furnace you become dry and cracked.

If He does not paint you with dyes that have bad smell you have no beautiful icons.

 If you do not go into the furnace again you do not deserve glory.

Cry with me,

Welcome school of pain! Welcome school of eternal glory.

→ English translation of the story here at St-Takla.org: الإناء الأثري الفاخر.

St-Takla.org Divider

If indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together (Rom. 8.17).


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