JR15: Parable of the Candlesticks
A: This morning I got up, and was talking to Jesus, as usual, and he said, “It feels like a parable day. Time to write a parable.” So here’s the parable he put together this morning. Once a parable writer, always a parable writer.
Parable of the Candlesticks
Candlesticks on Oak (c) JAT
Once upon a time there was a prayerful mother who had two little children, a boy and a girl. The mother owned two beautiful brass candlesticks that had belonged to her mother and to her grandmother and to her great-grandmother before that. The candlesticks were her pride and joy.
Every day the mother got out the jar of specially made brass cleaner and the specially woven cloth so she could polish the beautiful brass candlesticks. As she laboured over the candlesticks, she would quietly hum the prayers of devotion she’d been taught. Then she would place two pure white candles into the candlesticks and light them. The candles were made of the finest bleached beeswax. God had told her once in a dream to follow the light of the purest candles he had ever made. So each day she followed his instructions. She knew God would hear her prayers when she knelt before the table that held the beautiful brass candlesticks.
One day, as she was polishing and praying, her son came running into the room. “Mommy, mommy,” he called. “I’ve found the most wonderful treasures outside. Please come and see them with me.”
“What have you found, my son?” she asked as she picked up her buffing cloth to polish the brass base with all the devotion she could muster.
“There’s a half moon hanging in the sky and the robins are building a new nest near the roof of the front porch and blue and white flower buds are opening in the garden. It’s quite exciting. Won’t you come and see?”
“My child, I am polishing the candlesticks, and I’m sure you understand how important this task is for all our family. If I fail to polish the candlesticks perfectly, and if I fail to light the candles properly, then God will not be able to hear our prayers and answer them. It is more important that I ensure God’s blessing upon our family. Our family is so lucky to know the secret. We must honour the blessing God has given us. Otherwise he will take it away.”
The boy’s smile faded, and he nodded obediently. “Yes, mother. You are very kind and loving to look after us in this way. I am very grateful. Thank you for your prayers, Mother.”
“You’re most welcome, my son.”
A short while later, her daughter came running into the room. “Mommy, mommy,” she called. “I’ve found the most wonderful place in our neighbourhood. It’s filled with books. Beautiful, wonderful books. With pictures! Mommy, will you come and read me a story?”
“My child, you know how important it is that I finish work on the candlesticks so I may properly offer prayers on your behalf to God. You must be protected, child. I cannot ask God to protect you until the light shines perfectly from the mirror of the polished brass. See, my daughter? If you look into the polished brass, you can see your reflection there. Is it not wondrous?”
“Yes, mother. You are very wise. Perhaps one day, if you think I am worthy, you will teach me to light the candles as your mother taught you.”
“And her mother taught her before that.”
“We’re lucky, aren’t we, Mother, that our ancestors were so blessed by God?”
“Very lucky, my daughter,” said the mother, gazing with pride upon the candlesticks she polished every day with the purest devotion to God that anyone could imagine. “We’re the luckiest family there could ever be. Thanks be to God.”
