Br. Jordan Herboth, LC
Copyright: October 21, 2008
The first rays of light came down on the flat roofs of the village as the sun peeked over the hills. One ray fell on a small stone jar sitting on the windowsill of a modest house. It had a smooth oblong body and a short neck, and was made of soft, yellow-brown alabaster. The light from the sun filtered through it so that from inside the house it appeared to glow. At this time of day, the container's liquid used to cast shadows on the wall of the jar at the slightest movement in the house, and a woman would sit near the window to watch those shadows play. Now, however, the jar was empty and alone. The woman was in her bed, though she had not slept all night; and now and then soft sobs came from that direction while all else was quiet in the house.
The jar was not the only neglected item in the room. Near the window there was a wooden cupboard where the woman’s jewels were kept. These had been so carelessly put away the day before that they still laid out of their containers as if objecting to their misuse. When the woman finally got up from her bed, she did not give so much as a glance to this corner, so that the items there remained unaltered in their forlorn state. The woman herself seemed forlorn. She did little to improve her appearance before she left the house. She was out all day and in the evening she wandered back only to cry herself to sleep. The next day she was out again as soon as she was up. This time, however, she returned in the early afternoon. She entered her house in a rush. She came to the corner where her jewels were, hesitated, bit her lip, and creased her forehead. After this initial pause, she started moving frantically: opening and closing boxes, hanging necklaces, and so on. She could not keep her hands steady, nor could she focus on one task, but moved everything without leaving anything better than she found it. Then her eyes spotted the alabaster jar. She dropped what she had in hand, and picked up the jar. After almost dropping it, she stood still for a moment and forced herself to calm down, then she carefully wrapped the jar in her mantle and left the house.
The streets were quiet. It was a warm spring day, and no one wanted to be in the hot street in the mid-afternoon. Only those who had an urgent errand would venture from their cool houses now which meant that on many streets the woman was alone with her jar. She soon found the shop she was looking for. When she entered it was cool and fragrant. All around the walls were big clay jars containing liquids whose strong aromas filled the room. It was a perfume shop. In the middle of the room, a little closer to the far end, there stood a table. Sitting behind the table was a short bald man, who eyed the woman curiously. He was fixing one of his scales and was evidently not expecting customers. The woman walked up to the table and pulled out the alabaster jar. The jar had been here often. The perfume it had held previously was kept near the table in clay bottles. It was a common perfume made of jasmine extract. Behind the table were the more costly perfumes, oils seasoned with myrrh, cassia, and spikenard; several of these were kept in stone jars because of their value. The woman started bargaining for one of these, and the negotiating took much longer than normal. After much raising and lowering of prices, an agreement was made. The woman pulled out a bag of gold and started weighing it on a scale that was on the table. The bald man went to one of the stone jars and opened the lid; the strong aroma of spikenard filled the room. It overwhelmed the many sweet smells, which were already floating in the air, and testified to the value of this substance. The man drew some of this perfume from the jar with a ladle, skillfully transferred the dark liquid to a measuring jar, and then to the alabaster jar. Through the whole process he did not loose a drop. The woman carefully closed the lid of her jar on the precious oil. She carefully wrapped the jar in her mantle again and returned to the street.
This transaction had taken nearly an hour, and the streets were not as vacant as they had been before. The woman hurried home with her treasure held securely under her cloak. Yet, for all the care she gave it, it could not calm her heart for long. As soon as she entered the house, she returned the jar in its place on the windowsill and sat on her bed. Her appearance was all distraught. Her hair was tangled. Her eyes were red. Her momentary purpose and energy were gone. She was the perfect opposite of the little jar which sat on the windowsill only a few feet away. It was dignified. Its delicate walls were a warm color. It held a substance of great value. The woman and the jar remained in the same places until the light in the sky began to fade. When, through the window, the woman could see the last red beams of sunset fading into the dark blue of night, she got up from her bed. She washed her face, and quickly gathered her hair. Then she took the jar, and again went into the streets.
The dry air had cooled greatly since the afternoon. The night was clear and the stars were out. The half-full moon lit the way of the woman who held her full jar near her empty heart. She walked quickly at first, but as she went her pace slowed and she became troubled. She doubled back on her steps more than once, only to stop her retreat and re-take the steps. In those pauses when she was unsure where to go, she would hold the jar tight. It was her only comfort. It pushed her on to her goal. It was late when she made it to her destination. She stood before a stately house in a fine neighborhood. Light poured out from every window, and the noise of a feast rang out in the street. The woman spent a long minute outside the building, breathing hard, with her heart pounding. Finally she went in. The room was bright, with a light smell of incense mixed with the smell of wine and of baked meats. Many men were reclining at a long low table. In the farthest place from the door, to the right of the host, was the guest of honor. He was a strong and handsome man, his skin darkened by the sun. When he spoke, it inevitably caused a lull in the conversations. His deep voice had a commanding quality to it that was pleasant to listen to. At the moment the woman walked in, the man’s eye wondered to the doorway where she stood. At first she thought that he had noticed her, and his glance made everything within her stand still, but then he looked away and continued talking. The woman knew that this was the man she was looking for.
For a while no one noticed the woman who stayed near the walls of the room until the man had finished speaking and the attention turned away from him. Soon she had a chance to approach him without anyone noticing. As she approached she pulled out the jar from the folds of her mantle. The jar fit into the scene much better than the woman did. It was fine and elegant, complimentary to the generous meal. Gifts were often given in such banquets and oil was a fairly common gift. This oil would have been a generous gift, even if it had been poured out in normal ceremony. The woman stood behind the man and waited for him to notice her. While she waited, she tried to open the jar, but her nervous hands would not remain steady. As she fumbled with the lid, the man finally turned to look at her. She lost all control of herself. She held the jar over the man’s head; holding the lid, her excited hands cracked the side. The soft stone gave way and shattered. The dark oil gushed out onto the head of the man and ran down his neck and beard. The whole room was filled with the sweet smell. All eyes turned towards the woman, but she saw only the smiling face of the man. His warm eyes gave her the peace that she could not receive from her jar or jewels; he gazed deep into her eyes as she dropped the last piece of broken alabaster.
Copyright: October 21, 2008
The first rays of light came down on the flat roofs of the village as the sun peeked over the hills. One ray fell on a small stone jar sitting on the windowsill of a modest house. It had a smooth oblong body and a short neck, and was made of soft, yellow-brown alabaster. The light from the sun filtered through it so that from inside the house it appeared to glow. At this time of day, the container's liquid used to cast shadows on the wall of the jar at the slightest movement in the house, and a woman would sit near the window to watch those shadows play. Now, however, the jar was empty and alone. The woman was in her bed, though she had not slept all night; and now and then soft sobs came from that direction while all else was quiet in the house.
The jar was not the only neglected item in the room. Near the window there was a wooden cupboard where the woman’s jewels were kept. These had been so carelessly put away the day before that they still laid out of their containers as if objecting to their misuse. When the woman finally got up from her bed, she did not give so much as a glance to this corner, so that the items there remained unaltered in their forlorn state. The woman herself seemed forlorn. She did little to improve her appearance before she left the house. She was out all day and in the evening she wandered back only to cry herself to sleep. The next day she was out again as soon as she was up. This time, however, she returned in the early afternoon. She entered her house in a rush. She came to the corner where her jewels were, hesitated, bit her lip, and creased her forehead. After this initial pause, she started moving frantically: opening and closing boxes, hanging necklaces, and so on. She could not keep her hands steady, nor could she focus on one task, but moved everything without leaving anything better than she found it. Then her eyes spotted the alabaster jar. She dropped what she had in hand, and picked up the jar. After almost dropping it, she stood still for a moment and forced herself to calm down, then she carefully wrapped the jar in her mantle and left the house.
The streets were quiet. It was a warm spring day, and no one wanted to be in the hot street in the mid-afternoon. Only those who had an urgent errand would venture from their cool houses now which meant that on many streets the woman was alone with her jar. She soon found the shop she was looking for. When she entered it was cool and fragrant. All around the walls were big clay jars containing liquids whose strong aromas filled the room. It was a perfume shop. In the middle of the room, a little closer to the far end, there stood a table. Sitting behind the table was a short bald man, who eyed the woman curiously. He was fixing one of his scales and was evidently not expecting customers. The woman walked up to the table and pulled out the alabaster jar. The jar had been here often. The perfume it had held previously was kept near the table in clay bottles. It was a common perfume made of jasmine extract. Behind the table were the more costly perfumes, oils seasoned with myrrh, cassia, and spikenard; several of these were kept in stone jars because of their value. The woman started bargaining for one of these, and the negotiating took much longer than normal. After much raising and lowering of prices, an agreement was made. The woman pulled out a bag of gold and started weighing it on a scale that was on the table. The bald man went to one of the stone jars and opened the lid; the strong aroma of spikenard filled the room. It overwhelmed the many sweet smells, which were already floating in the air, and testified to the value of this substance. The man drew some of this perfume from the jar with a ladle, skillfully transferred the dark liquid to a measuring jar, and then to the alabaster jar. Through the whole process he did not loose a drop. The woman carefully closed the lid of her jar on the precious oil. She carefully wrapped the jar in her mantle again and returned to the street.
This transaction had taken nearly an hour, and the streets were not as vacant as they had been before. The woman hurried home with her treasure held securely under her cloak. Yet, for all the care she gave it, it could not calm her heart for long. As soon as she entered the house, she returned the jar in its place on the windowsill and sat on her bed. Her appearance was all distraught. Her hair was tangled. Her eyes were red. Her momentary purpose and energy were gone. She was the perfect opposite of the little jar which sat on the windowsill only a few feet away. It was dignified. Its delicate walls were a warm color. It held a substance of great value. The woman and the jar remained in the same places until the light in the sky began to fade. When, through the window, the woman could see the last red beams of sunset fading into the dark blue of night, she got up from her bed. She washed her face, and quickly gathered her hair. Then she took the jar, and again went into the streets.
The dry air had cooled greatly since the afternoon. The night was clear and the stars were out. The half-full moon lit the way of the woman who held her full jar near her empty heart. She walked quickly at first, but as she went her pace slowed and she became troubled. She doubled back on her steps more than once, only to stop her retreat and re-take the steps. In those pauses when she was unsure where to go, she would hold the jar tight. It was her only comfort. It pushed her on to her goal. It was late when she made it to her destination. She stood before a stately house in a fine neighborhood. Light poured out from every window, and the noise of a feast rang out in the street. The woman spent a long minute outside the building, breathing hard, with her heart pounding. Finally she went in. The room was bright, with a light smell of incense mixed with the smell of wine and of baked meats. Many men were reclining at a long low table. In the farthest place from the door, to the right of the host, was the guest of honor. He was a strong and handsome man, his skin darkened by the sun. When he spoke, it inevitably caused a lull in the conversations. His deep voice had a commanding quality to it that was pleasant to listen to. At the moment the woman walked in, the man’s eye wondered to the doorway where she stood. At first she thought that he had noticed her, and his glance made everything within her stand still, but then he looked away and continued talking. The woman knew that this was the man she was looking for.
For a while no one noticed the woman who stayed near the walls of the room until the man had finished speaking and the attention turned away from him. Soon she had a chance to approach him without anyone noticing. As she approached she pulled out the jar from the folds of her mantle. The jar fit into the scene much better than the woman did. It was fine and elegant, complimentary to the generous meal. Gifts were often given in such banquets and oil was a fairly common gift. This oil would have been a generous gift, even if it had been poured out in normal ceremony. The woman stood behind the man and waited for him to notice her. While she waited, she tried to open the jar, but her nervous hands would not remain steady. As she fumbled with the lid, the man finally turned to look at her. She lost all control of herself. She held the jar over the man’s head; holding the lid, her excited hands cracked the side. The soft stone gave way and shattered. The dark oil gushed out onto the head of the man and ran down his neck and beard. The whole room was filled with the sweet smell. All eyes turned towards the woman, but she saw only the smiling face of the man. His warm eyes gave her the peace that she could not receive from her jar or jewels; he gazed deep into her eyes as she dropped the last piece of broken alabaster.
Comments for this post
