Joshua the Weaver: Chapter Five

"Okay all thumbs, you need to get to work. You can't take all day to set up the loom, you have work to do. You have to concentrate." The pressure of the day pulled at Joshua's mind. He felt like he was sitting on a rock again at the apprentice loom. He may as well be sitting before his fathers wheel instead the loom he knew so well. Sitting at his father's wheel...

"Joshua, you need to kick the wheel so it moves at the same speed the whole time. You speed up and slow down too much. Feel the rhythm."

"Father, I know the rhythm. I have heard it all my life. I just can't get it. Can't I make pots without the wheel?"

"Well," Jonathan's eye's closed for a moment. "I suppose you could; the same way a carpenter carves a yoke for oxen without a saw or a chisel. No Joshua, you must get the feel of the wheel or you will never be a potter."

"Maybe, I should try something."

"Joshua," he paused too long and Joshua turned to look at his father. It was still a new thing for Joshua to turn to his father and see his face. Jonathan found his voice again, "I have waited all your life to sit you before the wheel and teach you all I know. I have kept that little dream tucked in a cold, stone jar since the day the rabbi told me," Jonathan stopped again, struggled to retain his uneasy grip on his composure, "told me that you would never see. Now that jar has broken and that dream fills the room with a fragrance I cannot escape. Joshua, we have to try."

"I know. I really want to be able to do this, Father, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it. Would you show me one more time?"

"I suppose. I need to get some work done anyway." Jonathan traded places with his son. The lump of brown earth that had defied his son yielded to the instinctive touch. "Now watch how I give the clay its basic shape as I center it on the wheel." The words "Watch me" still felt odd on his tongue after all these years.

Joshua sat and watched a small bowl grow from the center of the wheel. The walls grew taller as the center deepened. Finally, the once defiant mud ball sat on the drying shelf with delicate flowers drawn on the side. "What flower is that? I've never seen that one."

"They grow in the desert. We'll go out to see them after we finish today. You will need to learn the looks to all the desert flowers so you can drawn them on any surface, perfectly from memory."

"Father, how did you decide to make a small bowl from that lump of clay? You could have made a much larger one. You put most of the clay back on the pile."

"A master potter gets to know the feel of the clay. If I had tried to make a vase out of that lump of clay, I would have failed."

"But, Father, I've seen you make many vases since the festival. What do you mean, you would have failed?"

"The problem was not me, son, but the clay. I felt in that clay the strength for a small bowl, but a vase would have fallen before I took it off the wheel. You need just the right clay for a vase."

"But how did you know?"

"Practice."

"Practice? How did that tell you?"

"Joshua, before the festival did you ever run with Eleazar to the market?"

"Of course I did. We ran to the market all the time."

"Do you still run the market with him."

"When I have time I do."

"Is it any easier?"

"You mean know that I can see?"

"Yes."

Joshua's mind raced ahead to find where his father was going with his questions. Practice. What does practice have to do with me running to the market? "Well, I can take any route I want to now. I don't get lost when I turn down an unfamiliar street. I can see where I'm going." Practice, doing something over and over, walking the same route time and time ag... "That's it; isn't it. I practiced going the market with Eleazar so many times I could do it with my eyes closed."

"Right, and I have handled so much clay, and made so many bad vases that I know the feel of the clay and what I can do with it."

"You made bad vases?"

"Hundreds of them. Hundreds of hundreds of them. Each one taught me more about the abilities of the clay."

"So you learned to tell good clay from bad clay."

"No, I learned to discern the limits, the strengths and weaknesses of the clay. Being a beautiful small bowl is just as honorable as being a beautiful large vase. Now let me see what the next piece of clay wants to be." Another large piece of clay jumped onto the wheel and found a home at the center. Gradually, the sides grew taller, the center deepened and deepened. The walls of the pot were up to Jonathan's elbow. Joshua watched as his father drew the clay taller than he had ever seen before. Soon Jonathan could picture his small nephew hiding in the water jug that grew on the wheel. Jonathan stepped carefully up to a small stool. His feet now out of reach of the wheel, he called to his son, "Joshua, the wheel, I need your help. I can't pull this water jug and keep the speed of the wheel constant. Kick the wheel for me, son."

"But, Father, I will ruin the pot. I can't get the speed right, you said so yourself."

"Joshua, if you don't try the pot will be ruined anyway."

"I have never seen a pot so tall. Don't you think it's tall enough?"

"Joshua, the wheel."

With a final glance at the tallest pot he had ever seen, Joshua's feet hit the wheel. He sat opposite his father and kicked with all his heart. He kicked gently and steadily. The speed slowly picked back up to the correct speed. "That's it son, just a little faster." The extra pinch of speed stole from Joshua's feet. "Perfect, now maintain that speed until I finish." Joshua almost forgot to breathe, he concentrated so hard. A lifetime later, Jonathan told his son to stop, the pot was done.

"Father," Joshua whispered, "I have never seen a water jar this tall with such delicate design. It will be worth a fortune."

"No, Joshua, it will be a gift for a rich man's son on his wedding day."

"A rich man's son? I don't understand."

"You will, someday."

"Someday, I will have to ask my father what he meant by that remark, someday. Today I must focus on the loom. What shall I do for this final test?" Joshua's mind raced back over the many pieces he had completed over the past year and a half. He had to complete the piece in one sitting, so it could not be very large. It had to be perfect so, he should use his favorite flax; he loved linen. It had to show creativity and bring honor to God. The loom was now set. All he had to do was start the piece.

Hands and feet danced quickly at the master loom. He started the piece like he had many others. The first few inches established his signature border as the beginning. He was the only one who used the intricate border just to start a piece, the only one other than Joash. Joshua glanced up to see the hidden smile on his teacher's face. Joshua knew this beginning would cost him time later, but he wanted to honor his teacher. "See, Joash," his thought's echoed against the intensity of the task. "You have taught me well. You took the gift and nurtured it." Joshua had chosen a prayer shawl as his master piece knowing that the shoulders of his teacher would fill it out well. Joash smiled. He must know by now what I am making. I wonder if he knows it is for him?

Joash's smile dropped from his wrinkled face when he saw the first knot on the far side of the material. He looked intensely at Joshua. If he could just get Joshua's attention, he thought. That knot could ruin Joshua's chances to be a master weaver. Joshua, he tried to get the boy's attention. Stares and shouted thoughts could not break Joshua's focus. Another knot stained the prayer shawl dying in Joshua's loom. Joash turned to walk out; watching the joy of his old age fade took the last light of hope from the old man's eyes.

"Joash, don't leave. This is for you. This is to be your prayer shawl. I used our special border. I selected the colors you love. I have the light blue of the noon day sky. I have the purple of the mountains, and the flowers. I decided to use a whole new idea to sprinkle flowers across the shawl. I picked the flowers I know best. My father showed me these flowers the day me made the most exquisite water vase in all Jerusalem. Please stay Joash. " Joshua's thoughts could not bring his master back.

With a last look over his shoulder, the old man shuffled out to the street and melted onto a bench. He gave up and slept.

"Joash! Wake up! Wake up! How can you sleep while your new master weaver is going to celebrate. Joash, come on old friend, wake up."

"Isaac, what did you say?" Sleep had a tight grip on the old man. He shook out the sleep and slowly collected himself to rise from the bench. "Isaac, tell again, slowly. Did you say that Joshua passed the test? I saw the knots, I saw the mess, and I left. How could he have corrected such a big flaw?"

"You saw the knots, I saw a fields of flowers."

"Flowers?"

"Flowers, all over the most beautiful prayer shawl I have ever seen. Joshua, come help me wake up your teacher. Tell him he is not dreaming. Tell him how you painted a field of flowers in tiny knots across the shawl."

"Wait, what are we talking about, shawls, flowers, knots. Go back to 'celebrate with the new master weaver.' Joshua, you passed the test?"

"Yes, Joash," Joshua had never addressed his teacher by his name, "I have been accepted by the others. Your name has been honored in the council of the master weavers. Never again will the name of Joash Bar Nabas be spoken in whispers or in jest. Everything you have taught me brought me to this honor today."

"But, Joshua, all I did was nurture the skill born on your hands. I can't take credit for your honor. We are now brothers, master weavers in Jerusalem. "

"Joash, I give the Almighty the glory for opening my eyes and placing the raw talent in my hands. But you, you had the patience and wisdom to take the raw talent and scuplt it into a vase worthy honor. Now, put on this new prayer shawl, old man, and let us both go down to the temple and offer a sacrifice in praise to the one who made this day and made is such a wonderful one."

© 1998 Laughing Wind Production Company. All rights reserved.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

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