Fifth Night

Eight angels came to me on eight nights
Each one told a story*****

On the fifth night
The angel spoke out of a thatch of black beard
reminded me to walk daily without my shoes through the grass.

He told this story:
a young man left home traveled to a land where he learned the art of making menorahs. When he returned home he went to work. He worked alone covering the menorah with a cloth — even the father had not seen it.

When he was done he asked his father to gather together the townspeople in the square. He unveiled his work — everyone was silent. His father approached each person individually asking what they thought about the menorah. Each one saw a defect — each a different defect.

The father told his son, what one person praised another person cursed.

That’s what I learned, said the son, each defect is in the eyes of the person who sees it. I fashioned a menorah entirely out of defects, I made the menorah out of flaws. Now I will begin its repair.

When you find a flaw, he said, you find your own flaw.

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