The Glassmaker

There once was a very talented glassmaker.  He worked alone for many years and then decided to take on an apprentice.  Many young men applied, but the glassmaker was looking for very specific qualities: precision, patience, dedication, and a real desire to work with glass.  After weeks of searching, a young man walked into the shop and applied for the job.  The young man did not pretend to know all there was to know about glassmaking, as some applicants had done; neither did he feign wonder and awe as he looked around at the work the glassmaker had done.  He just asked a simple question: “Can you teach me?”  It was at that moment the glassmaker extended his arm to shake the hand of his new apprentice.

The apprentice started work the very next day.  He walked into the shop, looked around, and was surprised to see the glassmaker was not there.  Walking up to his new work space, the apprentice found two things – a piece of blue glass and a note.  Picking up the fragment and examining it, the apprentice felt an appreciation for its rich color and uneven edges made smooth over time.  He found a box in the shop and placed the glass piece inside after reading the note which simply said, “I have given you this piece of glass.  Another will be given to you tomorrow.”  He placed the box under his work bench, but straightened quickly when he heard the glassmaker coming down from where he lived above the shop.  The apprentice's first day went as quickly as an hour.

The second day was almost identical to the first – empty shop, piece of glass, note, work.  At first, the apprentice was able to keep track of how many days he had spent learning under the great glassmaker by counting the pieces in the box before dropping in the next.  Soon, however, there were too many pieces to count.  The apprentice could always tell what kind of day he was going to have by how he felt about that piece of glass.  Some mornings, he walked into the shop, full of anticipation, curious about the color, shape, and size of the day’s piece of glass.  Other mornings he felt indifferent about the colorful fragment and tossed it in the box without a second look.  Still other mornings he felt angry about the piece of glass, resentful of the glassmaker for not revealing to him why he was doing what he was doing.  No matter which reaction he had, there were always questions racing through his mind: Why am I doing this?  Am I supposed to know what to do with these?  What do these pieces of glass mean?  Most days, these questions were quieted by the simple act of beginning the day’s labor.  He was working so hard and learning so much that he barely had time to consider the strange morning ritual or its meaning.  The glassmaker made no mention of it, either.

Nine months into his first year with the glassmaker, the apprentice realized that the box was full.  It was then that he decided to bring the matter up with the glassmaker.

“Excuse me, sir?” said the apprentice.  The glassmaker looked up from his bench.  “The pieces of glass that you’ve been giving me every morning…well, the box is full, sir.”

The glassmaker smiled and said, “What should be done with those pieces of glass?”

Immediately anxious, the apprentice answered, “I’ve often wondered that myself, sir.  What would you have me do with them?”

“I believe,” said the glassmaker, “that I will leave that decision up to you.”

The apprentice felt afraid when he heard those words.  “But, sir!  I don’t know what I should do with them.  Can’t you give me some direction?”

“I have taught you for many days.  I entrust those pieces of glass to you.”  Without another word, the glassmaker turned around and continued to work.

The day was ruined for the apprentice.  He somehow managed to finish his own work, but his mind and heart were not in it.  All he could think about was this task that was looming large on the horizon.  That night, he tossed and turned for many hours, asking himself, “What does the glassmaker want me to do?”  By the time he arrived at the shop the next morning, he was exhausted and anxious.  The apprentice approached his work bench only to find a piece of red glass.  He threw it into the box with some force, and he tried to take deep breaths to slow his pounding heart.  However, as the glassmaker was coming down the stairs in his usual morning fashion, the apprentice felt his frustration boil over.

Spinning on his heel, he practically shouted, “How am I supposed to know what to do with these meaningless pieces of glass?  They are fragments…fragments!  Dull fragments of glass…useless trash!”  Looking at the glassmaker, he saw no anger or hostility in his face at all, just the patience that accompanies wisdom.  The apprentice immediately felt ashamed for his outburst, but he knew he couldn’t take back his words.  So he simply lowered his head and waited.

The apprentice heard the glassmaker’s measured steps as he walked toward the box of colored glass.  After a moment’s pause, the glassmaker said to the apprentice, “Come back in three days’ time and arrive before the dawn.”

Without a word and without looking up, the apprentice left the shop and spent the rest of his day wandering and thinking.  He knew he had been presumptuous and disrespectful; he worried that he had ruined his wonderful opportunity with the glassmaker.

“I’ve learned so much from him,” thought the apprentice, “and now I have insulted him.”  He fully intended to arrive in three days and be asked to pack up his things and leave.  “How could I have been so stupid?” he wondered.

On the day he was supposed to return to the shop, the apprentice woke up very early and readied himself, his heart heavy in his chest.  Not knowing what to expect, but still expecting the worst, he walked toward what he assumed would be a terrible day.  The tinkle of the bell that hung outside the door of the shop announced the apprentice’s arrival.  The glassmaker was already at his work bench, and the apprentice just stood at the door, waiting for a clue of what to do next.

The glassmaker turned around, a genuine smile on his face, and said, “Welcome back.  Let me show you something.”

The apprentice followed the glassmaker across the shop and toward a door that had always been locked.  The glassmaker turned the key, opened the door, and motioned for the apprentice to enter the now-unlocked room.  Silence reigned as the apprentice stared at what the glassmaker had so obviously wanted him to see.

It was dark outside, but the stained-glass window in front of him was still quite visible.  He could make out a pastoral scene – sheep, grasses, hills, flowers, clouds, and trees.  Off in the corner, a shepherd watched over the hills with a serene and steady eye.  The apprentice began to weep as the glassmaker began to speak.

“You were correct when you said that the box contained fragments.  But you were wrong when you said they were meaningless.  These pieces of glass can only be understood once they are placed side by side.”  He pointed at the red piece from three mornings ago.  “Alone that is a misshapen fragment of glass.  But next to the other misshapen reds, the odd-looking greens, and the jagged yellows, it becomes the bloom of a flower.”  He touched each piece as he spoke.  “And look at what these blue fragments create together – a sky that is clear and open.”  He paused and placed his hand on the apprentice’s shoulder.  “You must understand that it is the pieces that create the whole.  No piece is more important than another, and without each piece the window would not be complete.”  The apprentice nodded, still overwhelmed with emotion.

“It was also not entirely incorrect to say these pieces of glass are useless trash.  To some, they might seem to be.  But to someone like me, a glassmaker, these beautiful fragments are filled with potential.  Each piece’s usefulness becomes obvious when we look at this window.”  Again he pointed to particular shards as he spoke.  “This one was the exact shape I needed to construct the crook of the shepherd’s staff.  Those pieces there fit together to create this sheep.  Without the way that one is cut, the hill would seem to be flat.  Each piece’s shape is different than the next, but each one matters in the creation of the window.  Do you understand?”  The apprentice nodded again.

“But there is more,” spoke the glassmaker.  “You were telling the truth when you said these pieces of glass are dull.  Just looking into the box, it was hard to discern their color, their texture, their beauty.  Glass reaches its full potential when it is placed in the light.”  He paused, and the apprentice realized that the sun had been rising as the glassmaker had been speaking.  The window was taking on an entirely new appearance – the colors brilliant, the nuances obvious, the beauty breathtaking.  Softly, the glassmaker said, “It is only once the sun shines through these pieces of glass that they become all they were meant to be.  It is only the light that gives the glass life.”  No more was said as the glassmaker and his apprentice stood basking in the sunlight and drinking in the beauty of the window.

Finally after a long silence, the glassmaker said, “I have much to teach you if you are willing.  I will help you become a glassmaker, but you must learn to see glass differently.”

“I will, with your help,” replied the apprentice.

The next morning, there was a piece of green glass and an empty box waiting for him.